


First Impressions

by TheTopazDragon



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 69
Words: 512,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTopazDragon/pseuds/TheTopazDragon
Summary: Allena Jones, a young woman working a summer job at a local museum, makes a fascinating discovery while tending to a popular exhibit. As she comes to learn, however, first impressions can be terribly misleading. When she is cast into the terrifying wilderness of the Constant, it will take all she has just to keep herself alive. What, then, will it take to get her home?
Relationships: wilson/oc
Comments: 47
Kudos: 60





	1. The Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Don't Starve or any of its characters :)
> 
> Just a heads-up: This story is being brought over from my FFA account. If you've read it there already, there haven't been any major changes. Just some grammar/spelling edits, very minor sentence additions, and the removal of author's notes that respond to comments from the FFA site. 
> 
> I've decided to transition to AO3. This is my first time posting here, so it might take a few tries to figure out the formatting. Hopefully by the time you're reading this, I'll have all the kinks worked out! And now, without further ado...enjoy!

Darkness stretched above, behind, before, and all around. The only light to be seen came from a few faintly flickering fires set atop pedestals that flanked an ornate black throne. In the throne was a dark-haired man, hunched and pale.

A record player to the man's left belted out an infuriatingly perky tune, but the man was not listening to it. Instead, he was listening to a very different sound. His fingers were twitching in rotating motions at odd intervals, almost as though he were turning a set of radio dials.

He had been doing this for a very long time. Finally however, he tensed. It seemed he had heard something of interest to him. It was a girl's voice, tired and resigned.  
"Honestly, what was this thing…? I'm going to be here half the night polishing you…not that anyone will notice if I'm home late, I'm sure. I could be gone for a week and Uncle Jeb wouldn't much care…I just hope I don't get locked into the museum, everyone will be going home soon…"

The man's dark eyes flashed in the low firelight. He'd found exactly what he'd been looking for.


	2. The Radio

The midday sun hung heavy in the sky as Allena Jones walked through the regal stone arches of the Foxcroft-Dover Museum of Local History. She pushed open the swinging glass doors and passed the admission booth after giving a quick, "Hello," to the teller. The teller, noting her sharp black and brown uniform, waved her through disinterestedly.

As she passed the toll booth she turned to make for the back room, which contained her supplies. It was her third week on the job, a janitorial position for the old small-town museum, and she'd just recently settled into the rhythm. She'd managed to land a summer position, something that would help her get a bit of money in her pocket before she headed back to school. She found she enjoyed the job. The museum didn't attract many patrons so it was always slow and quiet, but it still kept her busy and attentive. Nothing attracted dust like a museum and she had her work cut out for her keeping the exhibits spick-and-span – sweeping and mopping the floors, cleaning the glass of the windows and display cases, and dusting anything that she had permission to touch. Some relics were fragile enough that only the curators were allowed to work on them, but many of the pieces in the museum were sturdy enough to handle a feather duster or a polishing rag.

As she strode across the slightly scuffed marble floors she was hailed by her shift manager, an older, grumpy man named Ford. She stifled a sigh, turning to greet him with a tired smile. Any time Ford called on her it was usually to take care of some detail-intensive job that he didn't want to do, and it always took her enough time that she was hard-pressed to get through her normal duties. "Jones! Not doing anything important today, I hope?"

Allena, hoping to dissuade him from heaping anything more onto her plate, answered, "I'm sweeping and mopping the west wing, polishing the display cases, tidying up the restrooms, helping Gerald uncrate the new shipment–"

She was cut off as Ford waved her schedule aside. "That shipment got delayed, won't be here until tomorrow. I need to you work on one of the exhibits in the back."

Allena frowned. Not only was she annoyed that he was, as usual, dismissing her already busy schedule, she was a bit concerned about the job he was suggesting. "Er, aren't those all fairly delicate jobs? I'm not authorized to handle any of those."

Her manager didn't share her concern. "Nah, it's that great clunky thing – the Device? Just needs some shining up on the metal bits, a bit of polishing on the wood. Don't need any special permission to deal with that. Just don't touch the radio."

Allena bit her lip. She knew which exhibit he was referring to. It was true, she didn't need permission to clean it…but it was a big exhibit, and it would really cut into her time. Still, she didn't have much of a choice. "Alright, but I won't be able to handle everything else. Can you get someone to take over one of my other jobs?"

"Eh? Sure, sure, I'll get Gerald on it," he said absentmindedly. "Just take care of it before you retire tonight. Justine will want to look it over tomorrow morning."

Her manager was already walking away, mind elsewhere, satisfied that he was off the hook. Allena hoped he wasn't going to space out and forget to update her chore list. He'd done so twice already and she'd gotten chewed out by the curators because they assumed she just wasn't doing her job. Three weeks and she was already tired of explaining that she wasn't lazy – she just kept getting conflicting instructions.

She sighed and decided to take care of as much of her work as she could and leave the Device for the last hour and a half of her shift. Hopefully that would be enough.

The day went by quickly. Her Monday shift started at four and ran 'till nine, four hours past closing time, which was when she did most of her work. She got through the display cases and the bathrooms and just managed to sweep the west wing, leaving Gerald – one of her co-workers – to do the mopping. He wasn't happy about it, and he took the supplies from her with a scowl. By that time it was half-past seven. Time to get polishing.

Sighing, she went and picked up the supplies she would need to take care of the old relic and made her way to the back room. This was where they kept pieces that needed to be touched up or examined before being put back onto the floor for display. She didn't need to look long to find the one Ford wanted her to handle.

She walked up to it and clicked her tongue. It would be quite a job to shine up. It was a fair bit taller than her, all wooden frames and metal paneling and clunky gears, and if there was one word that could be used to describe it, it was 'convoluted'.  
No one knew what the Device was supposed to be for. All anyone knew was that it had belonged to a private scientist by the name of Wilson Percival Higgsbury, and it was the last thing he'd ever invented. Possibly the only thing. The man had vanished under mysterious circumstances nearly a century before and information on him was scarce. Over the decades following his presumed-dead disappearance, his house had been dubbed the most haunted building from there to Sidewinder, and had attracted many thrill-seekers over the years. Dumb kids were one thing, but once the tourists started coming in the town took an interest and simply confiscated all of the notable belongings in the house, condemning the shell as structurally unstable. The man's attic-laboratory had been replicated as an exhibit in the museum and contained, among other things, a large bookshelf, a few work desks, a grandfather clock, numerous scientific implements, the ancient radio that sat near her waiting for attention from the curators, and of course…the great, clunky monstrosity right in front of her.

Allena looked up at it and shook her head. "Well, you're going to take a while, aren't you? And I'd better do a good job of it too. You're one of the most popular exhibits in the museum."

Silently cursing Ford for the job he'd saddled her with she grabbed the supplies and started polishing. As she started working in earnest her heart sank. She'd badly underestimated how much detail work the thing would require. At this rate she'd be here two hours past her shift at least, and she didn't have much choice but to stay and finish it. Not with a curator set to look it over the next morning. Ford would have her fired for sure. Oh well. At least she'd be getting some overtime.

She started muttering to herself in the silence of the back room. "Honestly, what was this thing…? I'm going to be here half the night polishing you…not that anyone will notice if I'm home late, I'm sure. I could be gone for a week and Uncle Jeb wouldn't much care…I just hope I don't get locked into the museum, everyone will be going home soon…"

As she delicately polished one of the cogs on the back she glanced over at the radio that sat on a pedestal beside the device. "Wouldn't mind some music to go with the job. Too bad you don't work, huh?"

Suddenly, a crackly voice cut through the silence, causing her to jolt and drop her polish in shock. The voice sprang from the little metal box which, despite a decade of work from numerous expects, had never uttered so much as a hiss of white noise. The voice said,

"What, the radio? Who says it doesn't work?"


	3. The Voice

Allena stared at the radio, wide-eyed. She wasn't sure what to do. After a moment it occurred to her that it had responded to what she'd said, so obviously there was someone listening. While looking around for a recording device she asked, "Uh, hello? I'm sorry, who was that?"

The voice responded, "Good evening! That may be a bit difficult to explain. Perhaps I might ask who you are?"

She frowned. The voice sounded like a man's, though she couldn't discern anything else from it. "My name is Allena. I'm an employee here at the Foxcroft-Dover Museum of Local History. I was just cleaning up this exhibit…where are you?"

The voice said, "Again, that is rather difficult to explain. Exhibit? Museum? Are you saying my radio has ended up in a museum?"

The man sounded a bit agitated at the news. Allena's eyebrows furrowed as she replied. "The…yeah, the radio is here as part of one of the exhibits, and I'm polishing up this other thing here now. The Device."

The voice took on a sharper tone. "Device? You don't mean my gateway, by chance?"

Allena looked at the device. It didn't look much like a gateway. "I don't know. Does this sound like it?" She described it to him.

After only a few lines of description his voice sounded again, this time heavily colored with excitement. "Yes! Yes, that's it! Clearly intact, too! I'd assumed it destroyed after what happened."

Now Allena was very confused and becoming somewhat alarmed. The voice was referring to this stuff as though it belonged to him, but that was clearly impossible. "Excuse me, but who are you? Why are you calling this stuff yours?"

Then a very obvious answer crossed her mind, and she flushed a furious red. "Wait, is this some sort of prank? Gerald, is that you? Oh, for the love of…cut it out! I'm trying to work!"

She picked up the bottle of polish and went back to cleaning the device, sure that she'd just been duped by her coworker as revenge for dumping the mop job on him earlier. She expected to hear his voice come snickering out of whatever microphone he'd hidden behind the radio.

To her annoyance, however, the voice piped up again and didn't seem happy with her assumption. "What? No, no, this isn't a prank. Please, listen to me. My name is Wilson Percival Higgsbury–"

The scientist. Yup, definitely a prank. "Look, Gerald, I told you I didn't have a choice. Ford shoved this job on me, so I had to shove my job on you. Don't you have anything better to do with your time? It's late. Go home."

The voice was silent for a long moment. When it spoke up again it sounded afraid. "I suppose for my things to have ended up in a museum I must have been gone for quite a bit longer than I'd thought. That must make it very difficult to believe I am who I say I am. But please, do not dismiss me as a prank. I've been stuck here alone for a very long time, and I need help."

Allena shook her head and put down her cleaning supplies. She walked over to the radio, intent on finding the recording device and shutting it off. When she looked it over, however, she found nothing besides the radio itself. That was troublesome. Even for a prank as silly as this one Gerald wouldn't dare tamper with the radio by putting a speaker inside of it. It was one of the most priceless exhibits in the museum, being both a part of local history and also a relic of a fascinating era of technology. It was the only thing here that regularly attracted interest from out-of-state and was worth a small fortune.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, I suppose I don't have anything better to do than chat with you while I work, prank or not. What do you need help with?" She asked the question seriously enough, though her inner voice was a bit sardonic.

The voice sounded relieved. "I'm a gentleman scientist," he began. Allena was familiar with the term – a financially independent man, generally unconnected to any existing scientific institutions, who devoted his time to scientific pursuits more as a hobby than out of any real need. The voice continued. "Things weren't going well for me. In fact I hadn't made any progress in my studies in a long time. That's when I stumbled upon something rather enticing."

As Allena continued polishing the device she couldn't help but become intrigued. She'd always loved a good fiction. "Oh? What was that?"

"Information pertaining to a device. The very device that now sits dormant in front of you."

She hummed in response. No longer terribly irritated by the intrusion into her work, she found she was actually glad of the company. Though she had to admit she was getting a bit creeped out by the story – the man would be a hit around the campfire. "Go on?"

The voice perked up a bit at her obvious interest. "I sketched out the blueprints and crafted the device, but when I threw the switch something went wrong. It was meant to open up a stable gateway to another world. Instead the gateway opened only briefly. It drew me in then shut down. I have been stuck here in this wilderness ever since."

Now Allena's hands slowed in their work. There was no way this was Gerald. The inflections in the voice…this had to be the best actor that ever lived. Either that or -

She shook her head. "I see. So, how do you intend to get back here?"

She asked out of a desire to keep playing along with what she was still convinced was an elaborate prank. At least, that's what she told herself.

"I can't get myself back. I've tried everything. I'm trapped."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?"

It was when the voice responded that alarm bells really went off in her head. He said, "Yes! Please, if you can just fix the device–"

She walked at once back over to the radio and began searching it thoroughly up and down for a speaker. That's what this was about. Trying to get her to monkey around with an exhibit. If she was caught – and no doubt she would be, there was probably a hidden camera somewhere nearby – she'd be fired immediately. "Do you think I'm an idiot, Gerald? I'm not going to mess around with a priceless exhibit. Seriously, what did I do to merit this? I already told you I'm sorry about the mop thing, but this is going a bit too far. You're trying to get me fired!"

"No! Please! You're my only chance. You're the first person I've been able to talk to. Please…"

The voice trailed off. It sounded positively wretched, and Allena had to really force herself not to say anything. This guy was good. She was very, very tempted to believe him.

But she couldn't.

The voice came back, and this time it sounded strangely calm. "Is there anything I can do to convince you of the truth? Anything? You have no idea what it's like here. This place…it's a living hell. I can't stay here any longer. I'll go mad."

Her movements ceased completely. The desperation in his voice was heart-wrenching. Could this possibly just be an act?

Could it possibly be real?

She was silent. After a minute the voice said, "Hello? Are you still there?"

It sounded small, and terribly sad. She sighed and said, "Yes, I'm still here. Just give me a minute."

She decided there was no harm in checking the voice's validity, though it was likely a waste of her time. She pondered what she could do to confirm or deny it's claims, then came to a decision. "Okay, if you're really Wilson Higgsbury, you ought to remember the original setup of your lab, right?"

"Yes! I do, every detail."

"Alright. Wait there for a moment. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

She turned and went to visit one of the archives. There would be the original pictures of Higgsbury's lab. Although the exhibit was meant to be a replica, the layout of the lab had been altered to make it more appealing to visitors. Several things had been moved around and a few things added and removed. If the voice could tell her what it really used to look like…

She went and found the book containing the pictures, flipping to the correct page. Then she went to the exhibit and took a few pictures of it with her phone. That done, she returned to the radio.

She set the book down on a small table nearby and pulled out her phone's pictures, holding them next to each other. "You still there?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she said. "The exhibit we have here is an imperfect replica of your lab. I have pictures of the original lab before anything was moved, added, or altered. Think you can describe the real thing?"

"Absolutely! The window was a round old thing facing west and set just over my main workbench…"

Over the next few minutes he described the old attic lab almost perfectly. She threw in a couple extra questions to see if she could trip him up, such as,

"Okay, how many beakers were sitting on your main worktable?"

"Hmm? I don't know…not many, very few of the device's components were alchemical…"

That was an acceptable answer. In fact there were three beakers on the table, one broken, but if he'd remembered that much detail she'd have assumed it was someone looking at a copy of the picture. She asked him the purpose of one of the implements that had been added from a different local collection, and had not in fact been in the original lab. He'd responded indignantly, claiming he'd never owned such a piece of equipment.

After several minutes of this she was forced to admit it; either he was the real deal, or someone had gone to an inconceivable amount of trouble to prank her, and frankly, there was no one in the entire town who cared enough about her one way or the other to pull something like this.

She bit her lip. "Alright, that's enough. You really aced it."

The voice came back, this time cautiously hopeful. "So you'll help?"

She sighed, loudly. Rubbing her temples, she looked at the strange, looming device which the man – perhaps Wilson Higgsbury, perhaps not – claimed was a defunct gateway to another world. Cogs and gears sticking out this way and that; buttons and switches and levers; more nuts and bolts than she could count; even a spun-glass orb mounted on some sort of electrical component, all straight out of Frankenstein's lab.

She said, "I don't know if I can. It looks incredibly complicated, and I have no experience with engineering or handy work. I can barely fix my toaster back home, and you want me to open a gateway to another world?"

When the voice replied it was soft and encouraging. "You can do it. I'll walk you through every step. From what you described you may not even need to replace any of the components. Just shove a few things back into place, mend a bit of broken wiring at the very most."

She groaned. If she was caught messing around with this thing she could lose her job. Maybe even get arrested for vandalism. Anyways, there was no way this could be real. But if he was telling the truth, as mad as it sounded, then he needed her help. If she walked away from this and it was real, the man could die, trapped in whatever hell he'd fallen into.

She looked at the radio, wrenched between fear and pity. What should she do?


	4. The Device

Allena steeled herself and said, "I don't think I'll be able to fix the machine…but if you need my help, I suppose I have to try."

The voice responded, and the hope and gratitude that laced his voice was so intense that she decided that if this wasn't real then the man on the other side of the radio truly had to be the greatest actor of all time. "Thank you. Thank you. I'll walk you through every step, it won't take long at all, then…home. I'll finally be able to see my home again."

Allena winced. "Uh, I'm really sorry to tell you this, but your home isn't much of a home anymore. You've been…" She trailed off, not really wanted to tell the man he'd pulled a Rip Van Winkle and been gone for a hundred years. "Uh, well, never mind. We'll work something out for you if you're home isn't up to snuff. Maybe you can stay at my place."

"You're too kind. Thank you, again, thank you. Now, perhaps you could describe a few things for me? It would help give me an idea of how much work it will need, how long it will take."

She agreed. "Sure. But while I do I'm going to keep polishing, okay? I still really need to get this thing cleaned up for the curators."

"Understandable. Alright, first, do you see the axial setting beneath the leftmost liquid calibrator?"

She stopped and said, "The axial-what beneath the leftmost liquid what?"

The voice paused, then said, "Alright, this may take a bit more time than anticipated."

Over the next two hours Allena simultaneously polished the device and described it in intense detail. A few times he asked her to look inside various panels on the device and she asked him if it was strictly necessary. She really only had permission to work on the outside.

He assured her it was, so she went ahead and very, very carefully removed the panels and described what was inside. As much as it worried her, she found herself uplifted by his response to her descriptions.

"Excellent, almost everything is still fine. At this point, finding the damage may be a greater hassle than repairing it!"

As she worked and described, she began to yawn with increasing frequency. Finally she said, "Okay, I'm done with the polishing. Have you figured out what needs to be fixed?"

"Yes," he said. He sounded thoughtful. "There are a couple of cogs that will need to be shifted around, a few screws tightened, and, as I thought, a bit of rewiring. Do you have any tools?"

She yawned deeply. "Um…actually, no. The head janitor will have gone home hours ago and locked all the supplies up behind him. And I don't think I could get away with borrowing them anyways. I'll have to bring my tool kit from home."

The voice sounded a bit worried. "I see…if you lack the supplies I suppose the repairs will have to wait until tomorrow."

Allena suspected they would have had to wait regardless. At this point she could barely keep her eyes open. "Yeah, sorry about that. Will we still be able to talk then?"

The voice paused before replying. "Hopefully, yes. Though in this world nothing ever seems to stay stable for long."

She felt a twinge of pity, but there was nothing for it. "Okay, I have the same shift tomorrow. I'll be able to come back probably around the same time. I hope, anyways. Worst case scenario, I'll have to wait a couple extra hours so no one will be around while I fix the thing. I really, really can't afford to get caught doing this."

"I understand," the voice said soothingly. "Please, go home and get some rest. And tools. Then come back tomorrow and we will work. It shouldn't take but an hour or two to get it functional, hopefully."

She nodded, then recalled that he couldn't see her. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight…um…Wilson."

It was the first time she'd used his name, and by doing so she felt as though she'd signed some sort of pact. She'd made this as real as it was going to get for her, and a part of her wondered whether that was the right choice.

The voice replied, "Goodnight, Miss Jones."

She picked up her things and left.

She was worried she'd have trouble getting out of the museum. The doors, once locked, wouldn't open again without sounding an alarm until they were unlocked the next morning. Thankfully someone had cracked a few windows in the west wing – probably Gerald, hoping to let the breeze dry the floor before morning so he wouldn't have to do it himself. She climbed out and made for home.

As she unlocked her bike she felt a slight shiver pass through her. The moon was nearly full above her and gave her plenty of light to see by. The evening was warm, even for a Maine summer. Why was she shivering?

She decided it was probably just nerves from her encounter that night. As she took off pedaling down the street she tried to push it out of her mind. Within the hour she was back home, her teeth were brushed, and she was ready to go to sleep.

As she crawled into bed she realized that a sense of foreboding had crept up on her and sat heavily upon her chest. A sense that something was wrong. That something had happened, something worrying, and it had escaped her notice.

She forced the unease away as she laid down to sleep, but all night long it seemed to pester her. Her dreams were full of dark forests and stone roads to nowhere. All the time she walked down them she was pervaded with a terrible sense of uncertainty.

* * *

The next morning she awoke. When she went downstairs to get her breakfast her uncle was sitting at the table reading the morning paper. She wondered if he would remark on her absence last night – she hadn't gotten home until well past midnight.

He didn't. In fact, as usual, he didn't acknowledge her at all. After she got her breakfast tea and a waffle she went back upstairs without saying a word to him. She knew he'd just get irritated at having his paper interrupted.

As she sat at her desk sipping her tea, she pondered what she was going to do that night. Not for the first time she fretted that it was all a prank, or wondered if it had perhaps been a dream. The memory had already taken on a hint of surrealism to her.

She would go ahead with her promises and do the repairs. Anyways, she'd already done enough messing around with the device to get her fired if it was a prank. In for a penny, in for a pound.

A couple hours before work she showered, got dressed, and went upstairs to pack. She didn't know what she would need so she decided to just drop her entire Black and Decker household toolkit into her backpack.

As she dropped the kit in, her dreams flashed back to her. Helplessness. Uncertainty. Wilson had said the device was a gateway to another world, and it had already malfunctioned once. What if it was all true? What if it malfunctioned again? She certainly wouldn't be willing to bet her life on her own engineering skills. What if she got trapped there, too?

A large part of her was telling her the whole thing was silly. She hadn't been able to internalize the idea that this could all be real. She was still half fearing that her return to work today would be met with a walk to the manager's office and a recording of her messing with the device.

She decided the best way to assuage her concerns would be action. She couldn't do anything about being fired if it was a prank, but she could allay her other worries. She was scared about being dropped off in some hellish wilderness? Okay, she'd make sure she could take care of herself if that happened.

Over the next hour she loaded up her backpack with every survival tool she could think of. Water bottles, water filter, thermos, first-aid kit, pocketknives, portable solar charger, hand-warmers, hat, tons of snack bars, a warm jacket – even a miniature inflatable sleeping pad barely bigger than a liter bottle. To top it off she wrapped a sleeping bag in a spare blanket and strapped them both to the top of her pack, knowing full well that she would look absolutely ridiculous carrying all of this to the museum but feeling comforted, nonetheless. She'd likely get some odd looks, but she had three days off after this next shift. She'd just tell them she was heading off for a camping trip as soon as she was off the clock.

As she rode to her work, her backpack a comfortable weight on her shoulders, her unease wouldn't let her be. She still felt like she was missing something. Something Wilson had said, something he had asked her or told her. She just couldn't figure out what it was.

Same as yesterday, she arrived at the museum in her uniform, locked up her bike, and made for the doors. This time she got a strange look from the teller as she walked past, clearly the result of her bulging pack. She said, "Going camping after the shift. I'll leave it all in the back room, keep it out of the way."

He shrugged and, without saying anything, waved her through.

As soon as she was through the doors she looked over and saw Ford. He noticed her, dropped the conversation he'd been having with Gerald, and beelined straight for her.

Her heart sank. Did he just have another job for her, or had he found out about her fiddling with the device?

As he walked up she waited in apprehension for him to order her to the head manager's office, but to her surprise he just grunted out a short greeting before saying, "Jones. I looked in on that old relic you worked on last night. Was expecting to have to spend an hour making it presentable. Gotta say, there wasn't a thing for me to do. You've got quite a knack for that sort of detail work, don't ya?"

She let out a silent breath of relief. "Yep. Always been detail-oriented. The curators were happy, then?"

He nodded. "As clams. You know what this means?"

She shrugged, shoulders really aching from the weight of her pack. He responded with a crooked grin and said, "I'll be sure to foist this sort of work off on you more often. I got a recommendation from the curator for the good job! Much obliged."

And with that he winked at her and walked away.

Her jaw dropped and she bristled with anger. Seriously? He'd taken credit for all the work she'd put into the thing? And then just owned straight up to it? She knew she had more important things to worry about, but still!

She gritted her teeth as she made her way to the back room to drop off her pack. She'd work her normal shift, then once night came she'd fix up the machine and see where things went from there. She'd been feeling anxious about the idea all day, but the prickling of injustice had all but eradicated the worry.

At least, it did until she walked into the back room and saw that the device was gone.

She smacked her head. Of course – she'd done such a good job they must have put it back out on the floor. The radio was still back there, clearly waiting for the same degree of attention from the curators. As she walked over and shoved her pack behind a filing cabinet she ran her fingers through her hair. "Damn. This is gonna be a problem."

"Miss Jones? Is that you?"

She jumped. Well, at least now she knew it hadn't been a dream. "Yeah, it's me. Um. Now isn't a good time for you to be talking. Someone could come in here any moment."

"Very well. But what is the problem?"

She groaned slightly. "They put the device back out on the floor. I don't know if I'll be able to work on it tonight."

A moment of silence. Then, "We'll deal with that later. Return when it's safe for us to talk."

"Will do. See you tonight."

She made her way back out and got to work on her normal duties, all the time wondering what she was going to do. Working on the device in a quiet backroom was one thing. Working on it in a large, open, echoey room full of windows and security cameras was quite another. There was no way she'd be able to avoid getting caught.

As she was worrying over this she caught a glimpse of Ford talking to one of the curators, who seemed to be expressing some obvious satisfaction with him. Anger bubbled up again and her resolve hardened. Honestly, she was really starting to hate this job anyways. What was it to her if she got fired?

Night came quickly. She attended all of her normal duties and she and Gerald spent a couple of hours unpacking and inspecting the shipment they'd gotten in that day – a collection of carnival glass from some woman who had been murdered during a big scandal some thirty-odd years ago in the town up the road. Once they were done with that she helped Gerald finish all of his extra work, partly as an apology for yesterday and partly because she needed an excuse to stay late. He looked at her suspiciously the whole time knowing she was staying past her shift, but accepted the help as a way of making up.

When they finished everything Allena said, "Night, Gerald. Have a good weekend."

He said, "Yeah. See ya."

No 'thanks for helping out,' or 'don't worry about the mop thing, it wasn't half as much work as you just put in.' Just, 'see ya.'

She watched him slouch away and sighed. As soon as he was gone she returned to the back room to hunker down and wait for everyone to go home. Then an idea occurred to her. Before she found herself a comfortable spot under a covered table, she went back to the archives and found something that she hoped would help out later. The blueprints Wilson had sketched out for the device a hundred years ago. They'd been extremely well-preserved.

She took all of the blueprints and made her way back to the hiding place she'd found for herself. Over the next two hours of waiting she examined them but was eventually forced to admit she just didn't have the technical experience to make heads or tails of them. She very, very carefully rolled them back up, put them in their cases, and slid the case into her backpack just in case she needed to reference them later.

Once she was fairly sure everyone had gone home – she'd heard the main doors close twenty minutes prior, and had heard nothing since – she emerged from her hiding place and approached the radio. "Wilson? You there? Everyone's gone."

"Yes, I'm here. Do you have everything you need to fix the device?"

"Yes," she replied. "I think so. I have a full toolkit and a spool of copper wire. But I also have one concern."

"And that is…?"

"The device was moved onto the floor today. It'll be in full view of security cameras, and anyone who walks by a window will be able to see me working. We're going to have to be very quiet, and very quick."

When his voice came through again it was greatly diminished. "Is this quiet enough?"

She half-smiled. "As good as it's going to get, I suppose. Alright, let me do a quick scan to be sure everyone's gone, then I'll come back and grab the radio."

"Certainly."

She crept out of the room and carefully had a look around the museum. As expected, no one was there. She breathed a sigh of relief then returned to the back room. She grabbed the radio and carried it out onto the exhibit floor. The device sat in the midst of its exhibit surrounded by century-old furniture. This was actually fairly useful, as there were several surfaces she could use to hold her tools, as well as the original stand the radio had been on. She set her backpack down and dug out her toolkit, as well as a portable lantern she was now extremely glad she'd packed since she wouldn't have the back room light to work by. "Alright, I'm here. I have everything we need. Let's get this over with, okay?"

"Gladly," he replied. "I can't believe I'm finally getting out of here. I'm finally going to see home again."

He sounded like a man starving, suddenly presented with the prospect of food. She tightened her grip on her tools and said with fresh determination, "Tell me where to start."

He cut straight to the chase. "Pull off the rightmost panel on the left side of the device and look for that frayed wiring you told me about yesterday."

She did so, and soon they were hard at work.

She worked tirelessly for nearly two hours, heart pounding the entire time with the fear of getting caught, the thrill of discovery, and the excitement of what may well happen if she managed to fix the device. At one point she frowned and asked, "Say, didn't you say the device was broken? I mean, that it only opened the gateway briefly? What's going to stop that from happening again?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll have you position yourself so there's no risk of you getting drawn in by accident, the way I was. At any rate, the adjustments I'm having you make ought to fix that problem. You see, the wiring connecting the generator to the flux capacitor wasn't capable of handling the charge, and the aluminium failsafe regulator wasn't as fail-safe as I thought…"

She shook her head and asked for the next set of instructions. Every time he lapsed into the technobabble she just ended up getting confused. He was obviously smart. She'd just trust that he knew what he was doing.

At last, she finished mending a last weave of wires and replaced the panel. "What next?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. It should be ready."

Her heart sped up. This was it. "Does it need a power source? There's an extension cord in the back room."

"No, it draws its power from this world. Everything is prepared. All you need to do is throw the switch."

"Which one?"

"The big one, with the bright red knob on the front right of the machine. Just be sure to take a few steps back after you do. Wouldn't want to risk you getting stuck here!"

He sounded almost giddy with anticipation. The corner of her mouth twitched up into a smile, but at the same time she felt hesitant. She still felt like she was missing something important.

But the man needed her help. And so long as she was standing far enough away she ought to be safe. "Alright, give me a moment to put away the supplies – I want to be able to make a break for it as soon as you get here. I don't want to risk getting caught."

"Of course, of course," he said hastily, but she detected just a hint of impatience. She waved it aside. He was anxious to get home. She quickly gathered up her things and slung her backpack over her shoulders.

"Okay," she said. "Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Miss Jones."

Alarm bells went off in her head again, but before she could pay them any mind she stepped forward, grabbed the knob, and pulled. As she did so she realized what had been bothering her since the previous night.

When had she told him her last name?

Her heart sank as the machine roared to life. She hastily took several large steps back, ready to run and hide if anything happened. As she did so the voice from the radio came to life again. This time it sounded…strange. "Ah, there's really no point in stepping back, Miss Jones," the voice purred. "At this point no amount of distance will be of any help to you."

Her eyes widened as the device rose and unfolded, and she could have sworn she saw a sort of face outlined by the mechanical components. A cruel face. It seemed to be laughing at her, and a moment later its laugher was voiced by the radio. "Ha! Hahahaha! One gullible fool after the next! Oh, how delightful. I've played the part of Tempter before, but never Supplicant! I'll have to try that act on the next softhearted idiot who crosses my path!"

Any semblance of warmth or humanity the voice had once possessed had vanished. She cried out. The device flashed with light, and though the illumination lasted only a moment the shadows it cast lingered and writhed. Outlined on the floor were two clawing hands, and in a heartbeat they had traced their way across the floor and encircled her. She tried to leap away from them, the doe fleeing the wolves, but they rose off of the floor and grasped her firmly. As the voice continued to laugh, a great, swirling, black and white chasm opened up beneath her.

The hands pulled her through, and everything went black.


	5. The Man in the Red Vest

A familiar voice sounded above her. "Say, my dear, you don't look so good. You should find some food and shelter before it gets dark."

She cracked open an eye and glanced up. A tall figure loomed above her. It was wavering as though on the brink of disappearing. She croaked, "Wilson?"

The figure laughed. Before it dissipated it said, "The name is Maxwell! But I'm sure the _real_ Wilson will be glad of your company." Then it added with mock sympathy, "If you can find him without dying, that is."

And with that the figure vanished, sinking into shadows that in turn sank into the ground.

Allena was lying curled on her side, a heavy weight attached to her back. As she forced herself to her feet she realized what it was – her backpack, complete with all of her supplies. As she looked around she realized how fortunate she was that she had caved to her fears and brought them with her. She was in the middle of a vast wilderness.

She stared, wide-eyed, and began revolving slowly on the spot. There was no one around as far as she could see. Ahead of her was a thick, dense forest. To her left and right stretched grassy plains interspersed with trees and bushes. Behind her, a dry, flat grassland, like a savannah. She could see small creatures on the plain, and by their hopping movements assumed they must have been rabbits. Other than that the savannah held nothing of interest. Hills rose all around her, putting her in a shallow bowl.

She gazed out on all of this with dismay bordering on panic. What was she supposed to do now?

If she stood there worrying about it she would likely lose her head, so she went ahead and started walking. She decided to head for the grassland. There was no telling what might be waiting for her in a dense forest like the one before her, and she didn't want to give up the visibility of the plains. Besides, if she could reach the top of the hill she'd be able to get a better lay of the land.

That decided, she started to make for the closest crest. As she walked she noticed that she had been hearing an odd, distant, unbroken, roaring white noise the whole time she'd been here, and she wondered what it was. Wind? A city? She just couldn't tell.

Along the way she saw several smooth, angular, somewhat shiny stones among the grasses. Stopping to pick one up she realized they were flint.

They were high-quality stones. She'd hold on to a few.

She saw several varieties of flower, but without knowing the species she wasn't willing to do anything with them. Ditto the berry bushes. The berries were bright red, which was usually nature's way of saying 'don't eat me'.

Still, when she reached the edge of the bowl, where the berry bushes stopped, she looked at them again with cautious ponderance. She decided she would try one of them before she left them behind. If they were poisonous, she ought to be able to handle a single berry without dying. If she got sick, she'd know not to eat them again. If they were good she may have a viable food source if she ran out of energy bars before getting home. She plucked a berry and popped it in her mouth.

Sweet and delicious – she really hoped she didn't get sick.

The thought of getting home sent a sliver of panic through her. How in the world was she going to? Could she at all?

She quashed that sentiment before it could progress. Despair was a fierce enemy, and she wouldn't allow it a place in her mind. She would assume it was possible for her to get home even if all evidence pointed to the contrary.

She made her way to the top of the hill and at once realized what the white noise, which had been growing steadily louder, was. She was surrounded by an ocean.

Well, not entirely surrounded. She was on an island of sorts, water rising to just a foot or two below the ridge of the hill she was on and stretching endlessly on two sides of the fairly rectangular valley, to the north and the west. To the south there was also a sizeable expanse, but she could see land beyond it, several miles away. She'd made her way to the east side of the island and directly in front of her, rising six or seven feet out of the water, was a totally distinct land mass separated by a strait perhaps eight feet across. It would be impossible to swim over and climb up, but…

She looked up and down to see if there was a way to cross, and sure enough there was a bridge of earth spanning the two, sloping upwards from the ridge she stood on.

She walked over to it and examined it curiously. It was clearly not a constructed bridge, but it didn't look entirely natural either. It was stone and dirt, seemingly of the same variety as she was standing on, but there was no grass growing on it. It looked like it could easily host plant life…but it was like the patch of connecting ground had sprung into existence too recently for grass to have grown.

This was very strange. Still, she decided it was stable enough. She crossed it, making her way to the other side.

As she reached the top she looked out on the new land mass that stretched before her. It was far more extensive than the one she'd just left. Grassland, savannah, two forests, a marshy area – and what was far stranger was that they were all distributed like a chessboard. While all these biomes could, theoretically, exist naturally in this sort of proximity to each other, there was no way they would be distributed like this.

They were situated with clear geometrical boundaries. Square and rectangular patches of grassland extended into the marsh, cutting off at clear, straight edges. There was an obvious line dividing the savannah from the grassland she now stood on, though it looked as though a rectangular patch of savannah existed as an island on the grassy expanse a few feet in. Only the tree line was not perfectly uniform, though it did have a clear, if wavy, boundary. It almost looked like some mad deity had looked down on the land with an imperfect idea of what nature was supposed to be and simply patched the various aspects of what it understood together in a strange, geographic quilt.

She bit her lip and looked out at it all. She'd thought her own little island had been intimidating. This was even worse. Where to go now?

She sighed and began thinking it out. Not the swamps – she didn't need to risk getting wet and muddy or falling into a sinkhole. She could try the forest, though she still wanted to avoid it if possible. The savannah here also didn't look like it had much of interest. There were some low cliffs on the far side of it, past the grassland and beside the northern forest that stretched out beside her –

Her heart skipped a beat. At the base of the cliffs were low walls of flat, pale stone. She hadn't noticed them at first because they blended it to the stone behind them, but closer inspection revealed that they were obviously man-made. There was someone else here. Maybe.

Her first instinct was to make for the first sign of human life but she forced herself to pause. If the camp's inhabitant, or inhabitants, weren't friendly, it would likely be impossible for her to escape them if she simply strolled right up to the front door across the plain. She'd have nowhere to hide, and no safe place to escape to. It would probably be safer to scout it out, find a safe place to observe whoever might be living there, and set up a camp of her own in the meantime.

That said, whoever was living there obviously knew their way around the area. She'd stand a much better chance of surviving if she teamed up with them. And she certainly had enough to offer to make it worth their while – her pack was full of survival gear and food.

She weighed her options for a while, but she knew there was only one smart decision. She would make herself a small base and spend some time scouting the dwelling out. She didn't want to risk running into an enemy before she could take proper care of herself.

The forest extended to a hill that was in sight of the stone camp, not too far away. She made her way over to this quickly, aware of how exposed she was.

The small segment of forest was the perfect place to afford her some cover, and so long as she was careful about coming and going no one would know she was living there at all. She found a small clearing a little ways in and began setting up a camp. She thought over what she would need to make a lasting habitation and came up with a list of everything she would want to gather before dark. It seemed to be midmorning, so she ought to have plenty of time.

She emptied as much as she dared from her backpack so she would have room to store supplies. Taking care to check the grasslands and stone base for anyone who might see her leave, she made her way out of the forest and back towards her island. Though the lands below her looked as though they had been picked fairly clean, the island held abundant resources.

She hadn't gotten sick so far from the berry she'd eaten, so she picked a few bushes clean and put them in a plastic container she'd brought with her. If she could avoid eating her non-perishable food bars until it was necessary, that would be best. She would see if she could make a fishing rod eventually and try some of the pools on the edge of the swamp. Fish would be nice. She'd seen frogs - absolutely titanic frogs, at that - hopping around there, so frog legs were a delicious possibility as well.

She spent the next several hours gathering resources. Tons of grass and sticks went into a small tarp she'd brought, which she tied off and loaded on to her back. She picked up lots of rocks from the savannahs so she could make a fire pit; she didn't want to risk setting her camp on fire with a plain log-and-stick fire. After that she made her way back to drop it all off and get more supplies before stopping for lunch.

She unloaded the supplies at her camp and went back to the edge of forest. As she stopped to scan the savannah she saw something.

Movement. A man entering the camp. Someone was living in the stone base, after all. She crouched down beside a tree to watch.

She watched the base for perhaps ten minutes, but the man she'd seen did not reemerge. Just as she was considering leaving to gather more supplies and returning later, she saw another man approaching the base. He'd emerged from the southern forest, the one that lined the far edge of the swamp. He caught her eye due to the outfit he was wearing – white shirt, red vest, and black pants. The other man had been wearing mostly brown, and had blended in better with the environment.

Red-vest was walking towards the base with a backpack on his shoulders and a long, thin stick strapped to his back. Maybe a fishing rod. Perhaps bringing back some lunch for the two of them?

The first man she'd seen emerged from the base just as the man in the red vest neared the entrance, and Allena could immediately see that something was wrong. The brown-shirted man was carrying a bulging backpack he hadn't had walking in, and tensed up when he saw the red-vested man. The two froze for an instant, then Red-vest reached back and pulled on the long stick.

It wasn't a fishing rod. It was a spear. The man in brown put his hands up in a gesture of defense, but almost at once dashed to the side to get around and away. The man in the red vest moved quickly, whirling the spear and slashing at the man's ankles, tripping him. Allena was far enough away that she couldn't hear, but she imagined the man must surely have cried out in pain. He swung the pack off his shoulders and shoved it towards the man in red before rolling onto his back and trying to push himself away.

It seemed obvious he'd been trying to steal supplies, and was now returning them in an attempt to appease the clearly livid owner. She watched, wide-eyed. The thief been injured by the blow. He couldn't fight back or run. He'd returned the supplies. Surely the vested man would let him go?

She watched in horror as she was proven wrong. He paused for only a moment before gripping the spear, walking over, and raising the weapon. The injured man's hands came up in an attempt to ward the blow off, but the spear came down regardless.

Allena let out a shaky, silent breath as the spearhead plunged into the man's stomach. The red-vested man calmly twisted the spear to the side and pulled it out, causing a flood of hot gore to gush from the open wound. The thief jerked, then lay still.

He'd killed him. Quickly, mercilessly, efficiently killed him. He bent over the man's corpse and felt his neck for a pulse, then began searching him, pulling things out of pockets and dropping them into his own. She viewed this with frightened revulsion. She'd never seen a man die before, and the sight was more soul-rending than she'd imagined it could be. Nothing like T.V., or the movies. Nothing at all.

She didn't dare move for fear of attracting the man's attention. She simply sat and watched as he searched the corpse and, satisfied that he'd taken everything of interest, picked up the discarded backpack and walked back to his base.

As soon as he was gone she ran back to her own camp. She forced herself not to vomit, knowing that she was going to need every bit of sustenance going forward and couldn't afford to waste any of it on squeamishness.

She decided she needed to distract herself with work. She dug a fire pit and lined it with stones. She set up her thick tarp between the roots of a large tree and inflated her sleeping mat, laying her bag on top of it. She stowed her food in the bottom of her pack and had a drink of water. Then, exhausted from all she'd been through that day, she fell onto the sleeping bag and passed out.

When she woke a few hours later it was late afternoon, nearing dusk. She got up and went over everything she'd seen. Deciding it would be a good idea to get down everything that had happened to her, she rooted through her supplies and found what she was looking for – a small stationery kit, complete with pens, pencils, and a journal.

She wrote down all that had transpired and when she was finished she felt reinvigorated, both physically and mentally. She got the sense that keeping a journal, and maybe taking the occasional nap, would go a long ways towards helping her maintain her sanity.

She pondered what to do. She was feeling pretty hungry by then, so she decided to try more of those berries. She hadn't gotten any bad feelings about them, so they probably weren't poisonous.

She was afraid of the red-vested man. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if he found her. In an effort to assuage herself, she made her way to the tree line to keep a lookout while she ate.

She didn't expect to see him again so soon but as soon as she got to the edge of her forest she caught sight of that telltale red vest and froze. Seeing that he was facing away from her, she sat down beside a tree, fairly well hidden, and began to pop berries into her mouth. He was down on the savannah kneeling beside something on the ground. She saw that the other man's corpse had been moved, and she wondered what he'd done with it.

As she watched, the man stood up and walked away. She saw that he'd left something behind. She squinted at it and saw that it was some sort of stick and rope trap. But for what?

Ah. The savannah was dotted with holes. She remembered the rabbits hopping around on the island savannah. He must set snares for his own rabbits. He was going around checking them and, as she watched, he reached into one of the holes and pulled out a snared rabbit.

He killed it as efficiently as he'd killed the man earlier, stowing the body in a pack. He did this with every trap, re-setting a few sprung ones and harvesting rabbits where he found them. She'd never made a snare before, and wondered how it was done. She sure as hell wasn't going to go ask him, though. She didn't want to end up the next rabbit.

He finished up just as sunset was drawing near, setting the last snare and returning to his base. She didn't bother watching after that – it was obvious he was going to be spending the next few hours dressing and cooking the creatures.

She really didn't want to risk being seen by him, so she was going to avoid the plains and swamps until she was sure he was long gone, and the forest was dense enough to hide her. And as long as she was going to be living in this forest, she ought to explore it properly. She set off into the wood.

There wasn't much to be seen here. Like the grasslands, they seemed to have been fairly stripped of useable resources, presumably by Red-vest. She kept walking for a long while, but saw nothing of interest.

Until she caught sight of a small clearing, that was. She made her way towards it, jumped over a large log on the ground, and landed in front of _the biggest spider she'd ever seen in her life._

The thing was the size of a dog, jet-black, and had huge white eyes. She'd taken it unawares, and when she landed it whipped around and looked up at her. She felt a jolt of panic as the spider raised its legs, opened its mouth…

And cowered back, letting out a shrill squeal of obvious panic. She didn't move, merely staring it down as it cringed away from her. She looked over and saw another spider, this one in a tree, leap down and run in the opposite direction of her.

After a moment its friend turned and started scuttling away, too. Totally on impulse she ran after it, stomping her feet and hissing at it. It was clearly afraid of her, but it was also clearly dangerous. It would be best for her to establish herself as something that wasn't food – hence the chasing and hissing.

It's pace redoubled and it almost tripped over its own legs in its haste to get away. Once it was gone, Allena decided to return to her camp. That was enough adventure for one day.

She considered the spider's reaction to her. It had been such a visceral response she wondered if the things hadn't had a fear of humans drilled into them. Perhaps the man in the red vest had something to do with that.

She got back just as it was starting to get dark. She piled several thick branches into the pit, wishing she had some logs but lacking the strength or equipment to fell even a small tree, and added a bit of grass as kindling. It was getting dark quickly but rather than just light it up with her lighter she pulled some flint out of her pocket. It would be best to make use of natural resources and preserve her own limited man-made ones whenever possible, so she spent the next ten minutes figuring out how to use flint to start a fire.

She started shivering with nerves as darkness fell properly and was just about to resort to her lighter when she managed a few sparks. A couple clicks later and the grass lit.  
As light sprang forth she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A shadow.

Her head whipped towards it, but if anything had been there it was gone now. She shuddered. This wasn't a nice place to be in, alone in the dark. She hoped the shadow had just been a rogue flicker from the firelight.

She pulled out her journal and wrote down the encounter with the spider. Then, craving a hot meal, pulled out her miniature camp cooking set and set it up over the fire. Tossing several berries in her pan, she waited for them to start sizzling then dumped them onto the lid of the container she'd stored them in.

As she ate them it seemed to her than she got full more quickly than she had eating them raw. Something about cooking them just seemed to make them better.

Full, and as content as she was going to get, she drank more water – she would need to refill her supplies of it tomorrow – and put a few more sticks on the fire before curling up to go to sleep.

As she drifted off in the warm glow of the firelight, it occurred to her that she'd done pretty well on her first day. If things stayed this easy, she decided she wouldn't have too hard a time surviving until she could get out of there.

She'd just have to watch out for giant spiders.


	6. The Heist

The next morning Allena woke early, before dawn had properly risen. The sky was no longer black but it was still terribly dark. The fire must have gone out a while before. Though she wasn't cold, she was shivering. She felt like something was watching her.

She started breathing heavily as she sensed something in the darkness. Something that seemed...aware of her. Instinctively, she lunged for the campfire and started fumbling sticks and grass onto it. Not bothering with the flint this time she grabbed her lighter and brought the fire to life.

As soon as light flickered up she felt the presence recede. She sat next to the light trembling heavily until dawn came proper.

As soon as the sun rose she felt the presence, lurking well out of sight, vanish completely. Thank goodness. Perhaps the shadow she'd seen last night hadn't been just a trick of the light.

She considered what to do with her day, and decided that, with the shadowy presence gone, the biggest threat to her right now was the red-vested man. She would eat the last of her berries while scouting out his base. Perhaps she could determine his schedule over the next few days.

Mind made up, that's what she did. She went to her lookout just in time to see him heading into the far forest, the one just past the swamp to the south. Hoping he'd be gone for a good long while and wanting to gather more supplies, she made for her valley and started gather more sticks, branches, grass, and rocks. The rocks were running low, but she doubted she'd need them for much more than her fire pit.

She also picked up more flint, which seemed to be plentiful, though she wasn't sure why she bothered. She didn't know what she could use it for besides starting fires and maybe cutting things. It was pretty sharp. Still, she had a few knives and sharpeners, so she doubted she'd need to use the flint for anything besides starting fires.

She brought back tons of berries, enough to hold her over for a few days, and even found some root veggies sprouting out of the ground. They looked like carrots, but she checked the stalks. Carrots and hemlock were almost identical, save one major difference. Smooth stalks meant hemlock, bristly stalks meant carrots. These were…

Bristly. Yahtzee!

She spent a couple of hours carting supplies between the valley and her camp, taking care to scan the plains for the man, and finally decided to take a break when it started getting hot.

She cooked up a large pan of berries – enough to hold her over for the next two meals – and took them and the rest of her water to her lookout spot by the tree.

She watched the plains for a couple of hours, dozing a bit in the heat but perking up when the man returned. He seemed to be carrying a huge load of lumber, and she decided she would need to be very, very careful not to get too close to him. He didn't look it – his build was somewhat slim – but it was obvious he was strong. Probably fast, too, given how much strain that kind of weight had to have been putting on his legs. He could very likely outlast her in cardio if he'd been living out here long enough to make that base. She could maybe take him in an all-out sprint, though. She'd been the best sprinter on her track team at home and had won several prizes.

She watched him lug the supplies, which to her seemed a crushing weight, back to his camp. For a man living in the wilderness he looked very well-kept. His black hair was fairly long and combed back into tufts that were halfway between regal and ridiculous; he was at least six feet tall and looked to be in his early thirties or perhaps late twenties; his clothing seemed well-kept, though she imagined if she got a closer look they would be heavily sewn and patched. You don't live in the wilderness for long without tearing your clothes. He moved gracefully, carefully, and his posture was excellent. She really couldn't tell from that kind of distance, but she suspected that up close he would be quite dashing.

Too bad he was absolutely terrifying, what with the whole impaling-a-man thing.

She watched with rapt attention for a few hours as she ate her berries, not unlike the way one might observe a potentially dangerous animal - coyote, bear, mountain lion - from one's back porch. He went back and forth between the far forest and the camp, spending at least as much time in his camp as the forest. Only once did he enter the north forest, her forest, and with his spear on his back to boot. This worried her, but he came out shortly thereafter with a huge wad of something white and fluffy in his hands. She wondered what it was. Cotton?

Finally, around midafternoon he went into the far forest and did not emerge for more than two hours. This was encouraging; she'd need a fair amount of time to go down to the swamp and get some water from the ponds there. She'd tried the water around the island earlier – saltwater. She needed fresh.

She was really concerned about the water situation. While she did believe she could make a small desalinator, that would take a lot of time and effort for only the smallest return, and life would be infinitely easier for her if she could just find a natural source of fresh water. She'd run out a while back and was getting very thirsty. She would need to restock before nightfall, but was terrified at the prospect of crossing the flat, open plain knowing Red-vest may return at any moment and see her. Once he'd been gone for two hours, however, she decided that was her best shot.

Wanting to make as few trips as possible, she got every container on hand took them with her to the edge of the forest. She was thankful for her uniform – brown and white would blend into the environment to some degree.

The man hadn't returned yet, so she took her things and sprinted for the swamp, heart pounding in exertion and fear. She kept herself doubled over despite the restriction on her breath, and scanned the edge of the southern forest past the swamp just in case the man returned. Nothing. So far, so good.

She made it to a pool, avoiding the large frogs hopping around nearby, and knelt down low beside it. Scooping up some water in her hand, she brought it to her mouth to taste.

Fresh. Clean. Sweet and cool. Thank goodness.

She'd brought along a water purifying pump. She put this to use and filled her two water bottles and her thermos. She downed a liter, refilled the bottle again, and made to leave.

She stood up and froze. Red-vest had returned, and was making his way out of the forest towards his camp.

She dropped back to the ground, praying he hadn't seen her. After a few minutes she chanced a look up.

Thank goodness. He hadn't seen her. He'd reached his base and was just disappearing inside the entryway.

He hadn't spent less than ten minutes in the base thus far at any given time, so she decided it was a good chance he'd be in there long enough for her to get back to camp. She stood up and sprinted for her forest, keeping one eye on the base. He didn't emerge.

Once she got back to base she plopped down on her sleeping bag and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She really, really, really needed to pin down his schedule to prevent something like that happening again.

* * *

Over the next four days she fell into a schedule of her own; she'd spend a few hours gathering supplies and making her camp more comfortable, but all of her spare time was spent watching the man go about his daily life. Eventually she worked out his rhythms; she was always able to get water without spotting him now, and with any luck she would be able to avoid him indefinitely…so long as she was very, very careful.

At least, that's what she thought at first. Soon it became apparent that that might not be an option. It hadn't taken but a week for her to realize that her supply of berries and carrots wasn't going to last. It was getting harder and harder to find them, and pretty soon she'd need something else to tide her over.

A few times now she'd seen the man snaring rabbits and fishing, as well as chopping down trees and mining rocks from the low cliffs near his home. It was clear that he'd made all the tools himself, and if she was going to survive out here she'd need similar tools. But how was she supposed to make them?

She tried a few times and failed miserably. If she was going to survive here, she would need to learn how to make tools of her own.

At that moment she was sitting beneath the tree. It was nearing the afternoon, and from what she knew of his schedule Red-vest would be leaving soon to gather lumber. He hadn't in a couple of days, so he would probably be running low.

Sure enough, he emerged from his camp with the pack she knew he used to cart lumber around, an axe on his hip. As he marched towards the edge of the forest she was faced with the hardest dilemma she'd come across yet.

Of course, it wasn't really a dilemma. She knew she had no choice. Either she got the tools she needed, or she was going to starve to death out here.

At last he disappeared into the forest. Waiting a moment to be sure he was totally out of sight of the plain, she rose from her hiding place and jogged towards his camp.

She kept low to the ground and close to the trees. She watched the southern forest for movement and saw none. She quickly reached the stone base.

As she walked through the entryway she was simultaneously struck was wonder and nausea. Nausea from the fear that the man would return and catch her doing exactly what had gotten another man killed, wonder at the sight before her.

The shelves and racks stocked with heaps of food supplies were impressive enough. Beyond that he'd constructed several chests and boxes and cabinets of varying sizes; half a dozen backpacks of different composition, including one large one of what looked like pig skin, hung on the wall. Racks lined several walls, strips of meat drying into jerky in the hot summer sun. Several small barrels of water sat in the shade, and one sat in the sun getting warm. A low fire was smoldering under a huge, covered iron pot. In the middle of the camp was a firepit, beside which sat a bowl full of some strange, chalky yellow mineral.

Of even greater interest was the laboratory. He had an entire section of his base devoted to strange, whirling devices and large tanks of who-knew-what. Laying haphazardly on one of the desks in the area were several large chunks of gold and handfuls of glittering, multi-colored gems. Red, blue, and a couple purple.

This was incredible. The man had really managed to make himself an incredible setup here. No wonder people wanted to steal from him.

At that thought she once again found herself sick with apprehension. She didn't want to do this. Not only was she afraid of the consequences, she had simply been raised not to steal. The idea made her feel ashamed.

Still, she needed to if she was going to survive. She would take only the bare essentials, and if possible she would make up for it later. She passed by the stores of carefully preserved food and went straight for the tool shelf.

She wanted an axe, but she assumed odds on that were slim since he was using his. However, it turned out he had a couple of back-up axes, including one of gold. She examined them closely and decided at once that she would need to study in detail them to make sure she could replicated the craftsmanship.

She didn't want to be there any longer than necessary. She grabbed a flint axe, a shovel, a fishing pole, a small length of discarded rope, and a what looked like a bird trap and made for the exit. There were, unfortunately, no rabbit snares.

A long, thin, cruel spear sat propped against the wall. She considered it only briefly, but shied away from it upon seeing the dark stains set into the rope that secured the sharp, wicked-looking flint to the wooden shaft.

She walked out half-expecting to come face-to-face with the man, her worst nightmare, but he was nowhere to be seen. She looked around, thoroughly scanning the area, then full-on sprinted for the tree line. Once inside she made her way quickly back to her base and laid the tools out before her.

Fantastic. She would definitely be able to replicate all of these, though it would take a fair bit of work. She wouldn't be able to fell any more than the smallest of trees with an axe, but she would make do.

She would be able to replicate the fishing pole since she had some fishing line in her survival kit, though she wondered where the man had gotten line for his own. Was it possible that he harvested silk from the spiders?

She shivered and decided to just be very careful not to exhaust her own store.

She went ahead and got to work replicating one of the tools – the axe. Still nervous about Red-vest returning, she took her supplies to her lookout and started working. She was now glad she'd taken the time to gather so much flint, wood, and grass.

She figured out from the piece of discarded rope how to weave the grass, and with that she was able to start fashioning some sturdy equipment. She'd just picked out a few adequate pieces of flint when Red-vest emerged from the forest.

She watched him apprehensively as he trudged back to his base, a heavy load of lumber on his back. To her concern she saw that his axe was broken, the handle hanging from its holster. Would he want to replace it with a new one right away? Would he check his tools and see that some were missing?

He entered the base. Within a minute he burst back out, looking around furiously. He'd noticed the missing tools.

She felt the blood drain out of her face. Her insides writhed with fear and guilt, and she prayed he wouldn't be able to track her back to camp.

He was clearly trying. He crouched on the ground to look for prints. Her fear redoubled as his investigation led him along her path. No, no, no. He wasn't going to find her, was he? Oh, please, no.

The tracks took him into the forest…but he emerged a few minutes later. He paced around, examined the footprints again, then stamped on them. He looked livid.

She realized that she was trembling. If he found her with his stolen tools, he'd almost certainly kill her.

Thankfully he gave up soon and went back into his base. She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening replicating the tools. By the end of the day she could make everything but the bird trap.

She took care to keep the fire low all night, only stocking it up when she was ready to go to bed. She kept extra kindling near it at all times now, since it had become clear to her that something was in fact stalking her in the darkness, and if the fire went out while she slept it would only leave her alone for so long. Once it got close she needed to make light, or…

Well, nothing had happened so far, but she really didn't want to find out what would happen if she was too slow with the flint.

* * *

The next day she spent half the day replicating the tools, making three copies of each so she was absolutely sure she could do it from memory. She kept lookout, too. Once she was sure the man was gone she took one of her new axes and made for the island.

She picked berries where she found them, but for the most part they had all been exhausted. She found herself a nice, small tree and hefted her axe. She swung it, afraid that it would break immediately and render all her work worthless, but she was ecstatic to find it functioned perfectly. Soon she had the whole tree felled, the wood chopped up into useable pieces, everything stored neatly in her pack.

She got back to camp and stacked the lumber. Meager though it was, she was proud of herself. Mostly.

Of course she knew she wouldn't have been able to manage without Red-vest's axe as a prototype.

She looked up at the sky. He'd be heading out to hunt soon, if she understood his schedule. She decided it was a good time to try out the fishing pole.

She got it ready, grabbed a bag to carry fish in, and went to her lookout. He was gone within the hour, and as soon as he was she made for a pool on the edge of the swamp. She'd scouted out the pool carefully – it was in a shallow dip and surrounded by tall grass, so she would be invisible so long as she didn't stand all the way up. Even a slight crouch was enough to keep her hidden. What's more, the frogs didn't seem to want to come near it. This was fine by her – she'd learned the hard way that the things were territorial. Those tongues were surprisingly painful, and very sticky. One of them had nearly pulled her pants off.

She was excited to try the pole out. She'd seen fish swimming in the seemingly bottomless pond, so she knew she stood a chance at a catch. She expected it to take a while, though.

Amazingly, she'd barely sat there for ten minutes before a fish grabbed her line. Apparently they weren't all that bright. Praying that she'd gotten the reel right, she grabbed the handle and started tugging and cranking. Moments later, a sizeable fish was flopping around on the ground beside her.

She was elated. These ponds would be a goldmine. If she could figure out how to make a frog trap or something, she'd have enough food right here to last her forever!

So long as the ponds didn't freeze, that was. She hoped there wasn't any sort of bad winter here. She had noticed it getting chilly the last few nights.

Shivering, she resolved to figure out the rabbit traps just in case. She could dry some rabbit jerky for winter provisions. She was confident she could figure out a drying rack with everything she'd learned from Red-vest's craftsmanship.

She caught a few more fish, pleased with the prospect of having some protein for dinner, and carefully stood up and scanned the area. Red-vest wasn't around, but she saw that the frogs had incidentally blocked off her normal egress.

That was fine. She'd go around. She made her way past the pond to a clearer patch of swamp, but paused when she saw movement on the ground beside her. There was an odd purplish lump sticking out of the soil, and it seemed to be pulsing. Her brows furrowed in disconcertion. What was that thing?

She paused, but decided not to approach it. As soon as she took a step back, however, she discovered exactly what the thing was.

A tall, thick purple tentacle rose out of the ground and began thrashing around. Gasping sharply, she lurched back just as it swung towards her.

It just missed her, and thank goodness for that. Its tip was covered in spikes.

She turned and sprinted for the edge of the swamp, not knowing or caring if Red-vest was watching. She made it to the edge and turned around just in time to see the sessile tentacle sinking back into the earth.

Panting from the scare, she turned and made her way back to her camp.

Well, tentacle monster aside, the day had gone very well indeed. All of her tools had worked, though she still needed to try out the bird trap. Deciding now was as good a time as any, she set it up to the best of her ability a little ways away from camp, in a place she knew birds frequented often. As she pressed down on the trap to set it, a bleak thought occurred to her.

She'd gotten herself stuck in a trap of her own making. The man had seen that his tools were missing, so he now knew he wasn't alone here. If he caught her unawares or found her camp she was dead meat.

There was no way she'd be able to avoid him forever. But maybe if she returned his tools, and left a few extra supplies behind as recompense, he'd be a bit more lenient?

On the other hand, it was possible that he'd just chalked the tools up to a loss and dismissed the theft. If she was as careful as she'd been so far, there was no reason for him to find her. He never came near her neck of the woods, after all. But if she left supplies near his base he'd know for sure she was living nearby, and he'd definitely keep a sharper lookout for her.

Should she return the tools, or try to just lay low and hope they never met?

She winced. She needed to return the supplies. Not only would it at least give the man some reason not to kill her, it would alleviate the guilt that had been gnawing at her for the last two days. The man had worked hard to create those tools – she had no right to steal them. It may have been necessary, but that didn't make it right.

She spent the next half an hour looking over the tools and making sure they were still pristine. Then, to be sure he knew what her intentions had been and to assure him it wouldn't happen again, she added one of her own copies of each tool to prove she'd figured out how to make them herself. He'd have plenty of extras now.

To top it all off she wrapped three fish in a small straw mat and bound it with the longest weave of rope she'd made thus far. With all of that done she bundled it all together in her extra tarp, tossed in a couple of the logs she'd chopped up for herself, and went to her lookout.

He returned from his hunting trip before long and went back to his base. She thought she'd have to wait until the next day to get the supplies to him, but he was actually only home for a short while before he headed back out towards the forest. He had a torch with him, implying he might not be back for a while. It was getting close to sunset.

Deciding that was as good a time as any she made sure her tarped load was secure and jogged quickly towards his camp. When she reached the entrance she dropped the tarp, untied it, and settled all the supplies – the ones she'd stolen, the new ones she'd made, and the things she'd managed to procure with them – at the entryway of the stone base. Amongst them she left one other thing: a piece of paper she'd torn from her journal and scrawled out a note on, weighing it down with a rock.

_Sorry about stealing your stuff. It won't happen again. Promise._

_~ Allena Jones_

That done she grabbed the tarp and very, very carefully made for the tree line, taking care not to leave any footprints this time.

She went back to her lookout to watch, and within half an hour he returned.

She watched anxiously as he froze upon seeing the pile of supplies. He approached them cautiously, perhaps worried about a trap of some sort, then proceeded to draw his weapon and walk around the base. He was obviously concerned about an ambush.

Once he'd made sure there was no one around, he returned to the supplies and started rifling through them, glancing up and around constantly. He picked up the two axes and examined them side by side. As he set them down he saw the note.

She watched as he picked it up, read it, and stood. He held a hand up to keep the sun out of his face and scanned the area. He didn't look upset this time, but she wasn't about to pop out and start yelling, 'Hi! Here I am! I'm the one you're looking for!'

He kept scanning the clearing for another minute or two, then he turned and began moving the supplies back into his base. When he found the straw bundle he seemed confused, and actually ended up dropping one of the fish when he undid the rope. Still, he seemed pleased enough. More with the rope than the fish, she thought by his close examination of it. She had done an excellent job weaving it.

After he finished carting all the supplies inside he came back out again and stood at the entrance to his base, hands laced politely behind his back. He periodically scanned the area, and was clearly waiting for something. Someone. Her.

She watched him until he gave up and went back inside. It seemed like he was satisfied…

But she wasn't about to take any chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this site isn't PERFECT to upload to. It has its kinks too. Notably, the fact that I can't seem to use the Rich Text option to work on my chapters unless I first upload it, then select 'edit chapter'. So if anyone is reading this within fifteen minutes of my posting each one, go away and come back later. I have to post these without any formatting or italics before I can edit them into what they're supposed to be. 
> 
> Gonna be such a pain later on. I really like using italics, and I'll have to re-italicize everything. Good thing I like italicizing things.


	7. The Chase

The next few days went by without incident. She was as careful as ever to avoid being seen, and her concern spiked as she saw the man – she really wished she knew his name at this point – creeping around in the early morning one day placing things in the tall grass and along the tree line near his base. She suspected they were traps. She went down one day after he left to check, and she discovered several well-hidden boxes attached to trip-lines spread around.

She wasn't about to set any off just to see what they did. She simply took care to avoid them, and lamented that her return of the supplies clearly hadn't been enough to cool his hostility towards her.

  
That particular day was cool enough that she was really forced to consider the possibility that winter could be approaching. As decent as her setup was, she was not prepared for a cold season. No berries, no carrots, and if the pools froze her last source of food would be gone as well. She would need something else.

Rabbits.

She sat at her lookout waiting for Red-vest to leave. As soon as he did she grabbed her sketchpad and made for the plains. She was going to examine one of his traps to see if she could replicate it without having to steal it.

He obviously hadn't been managing his traps recently. The three nearest the northern forest were all sprung, and while she did stop to quickly examine them she really needed a set one if she was to understand the setup.

She found one roughly in the middle of the savannah, halfway between the forest and the swamp. She hunkered down to examine it and pulled out her sketchpad and pencil.

She began drawing the snare, taking note of the knots and points of tension. She wasn't sure how exactly he tied everything off, but she did her best to figure it out without touching anything. She didn't want to trigger his trap by mistake.

As she was making notes on her sketchpad she realized how badly her neck was hurting from being craned over for so long. She rolled it along her shoulders to alleviate the tension. As she did so she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A hint of red.

Her neck snapped around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash, and she felt the blood drain from her face at what she saw. There he was, standing on the edge of the savannah, staring at her. Red-vest. He'd been making his way quietly towards her from behind. How had he gotten there?

He must have abandoned whatever he'd been doing and come back to base – he'd barely been gone twenty minutes. Then he'd seen her from the forest and crept along the edge of the grassland, low to the ground, to avoid detection. And now he was stalking her.

Her eyes were wide and her pulse notched up. He hadn't drawn it yet, but his spear was strapped to his back. He'd paused upon being seen, but almost at once he resumed moving. He was walking quickly, but not sprinting. Yet.

She quickly planted a hand behind her to push herself to her feet. As she did so she screeched in panic – she'd put it in the snare, which was now fastened tightly around her wrist.

She jumped up and immediately fell back down. The man had driven the peg too deep for her to wrench it up easily. She didn't have a knife with her – she'd have to get it off some other way.

She looked back to see that he'd paused again. He was close enough that she could see the expression on his face, though it was twisted into some unreadable expression.

Her hands started shaking. If he sprinted for her now, he'd be on her in moments.

She forced her panic down and looked at the knot. She wanted to grab it, to tug it, to rip it apart and run, but instead she delicately slipped her finger through the loop and used her nail to pry the thin rope back. She stared intently at the knot, not looking up at the man lest she lose track of what she was doing and let it snap taut again.

He was moving again. Closer. Still not running for her. He still hadn't drawn his spear. She was still panicking.

Just as he reached up to grasp the shaft of his weapon she finally managed to loosen the snare enough to get her hand out. Abandoning her drawings and pen, she sprinted straight for the swamp.

She heard him call out, "Wait!" And by the subsequent sound of feet pounding on the ground, she knew he was pursuing her.

There was no way she could get away from him like this. He'd been too close. She could possibly beat him in a dead sprint, but not for long enough to get adequate distance between them. No, she would need to try something different. Something dangerous.

She ran towards her fishing pool, the one she hadn't visited since her first time trying out the pole. There was one thing there that she was fairly certain would at least serve to hold the man up…if she was lucky.

She desperately scanned the ground in search of her one chance. The purple lump she'd failed to even notice on her first visit.

There! She saw the mass and ran for it. As she approached she saw it shudder, only slightly. She needed to wake it up, fast. She glanced back to see the man hot on her trail. She'd put a good fifteen feet of distance between them, but it still wasn't enough. If she could wake this thing up –

She ran for it and, seeing that it hadn't risen yet, jumped. Rather than vaulting over it she jumped on it, foot landing squarely on the insidious lump.

There was a squelching sound beneath her as the tentacle monster reared up. She flew past it, getting out of the way before it could hit her, and she heard the man yell, "What!? I thought I'd gotten them all!"

He sounded like a man expressing frustration at the resurgence of a troublesome weed rather than a giant, furious, Cthulian plant monster. She reached the edge of the southern forest, the one she hadn't stepped foot in yet, and glanced back in time to see the man stopped just out of range of the thrashing creature.

He was staring up at it with a mildly annoyed expression, spear clutched in his hand. Then he looked past it, to her, and his expression grew troubled.

She swallowed heavily, turned, and ran into the forest.

* * *

She'd been running for a while. She'd veered off a straight course a while back, taking care to make sure she knew where she was. She didn't want to get lost in here. The only light she had was her cellphone's flashlight, and that wouldn't last nearly long enough to get her back to camp.

She pulled the device out to check the battery and winced. It barely had any power. It probably wouldn't last more than a minute, tops. She had a solar charging cell, but she'd forgotten to plug it in. Well, at least the solar battery would be full when she got back. Fat lot of good it did her now.

She'd been making a wide loop in an attempt to get back without risking running straight into the man if he decided to pursue her, but now she turned fully in the direction of the swamp again. The sun would set soon. She needed to get back or risk running afoul whatever came out after dark.

After another twenty minutes or so she reached the outer edge of the forest again. She hadn't seen anything of interest, besides another giant spider that ran away from her. Pausing just inside the tree line, she looked out on the swamp.

Her heart sank. The man was still there. He'd taken up fishing beside the pool, and had a sizeable stack of fish beside him. He started scanning his surroundings, and she jerked her head back behind the tree.

It was getting very close to dark. He'd never been out this late before, not for something as trivial as fishing. He was waiting her out.

Well, he'd just have to wait a good long while, then. She was not going out there. There was no way she'd be able to sneak past him, but he wouldn't be able to stay out much longer. He didn't have a torch with him, nor anything to make a fire with. Unless he had some other way of fending off the dark, he'd need to leave soon.

She stood behind the tree for another half hour, muscles tense, waiting for him to pack up. Finally he did so, gathering his fish and stowing them in his backpack. He slung his fishing pole on his back and turned once more to the forest, prompting her to hide again. When she looked out a minute later he was walking to his base, his back to her.

She shivered. It was late now. Dark enough for the thing to come out, but still just barely bright enough for him to see her if she made for her camp. She'd just have to wait for him to reach his base and hope she wasn't attacked in the meantime.

She waited, and as she did so she sensed the emergence of the shadow creature. Her heart sped up, her hands grew clammy, and all she could do was keep perfectly still and pray she wasn't noticed by either of the things that seemed ready and willing to kill her.

A few minutes later he was finally out of sight, and she put on all the speed she could muster and ran. Almost at once she felt the presence take notice of her.

For the first time, she heard it. A deep, growling hiss in the forest behind her. As she felt it approaching, her sense of the creature became sharper, more intimate, and she was instilled with a sense of…

Playfulness. Whatever this thing was, it was having fun.

It was close. It was very, very close and she wasn't going to reach her base and even if she did she wouldn't be able to start a fire in time and she needed a light and –

Eyes widening, she thrust her hand into her pocket. The thing growled happily as it rushed in for the kill, but Allena clicked on her phone, pressed frantically on the picture icon, pointed the camera backwards, and clicked.

 _Cheep!_ The phone-light flashed blindingly as the picture was taken, and she heard the creature behind her roar in displeasure and fall well back. The phone wouldn't be able to take many more pictures – three or four at the most. Would it be enough?

It would have to be. She was maybe halfway across the plain, nearing the forest when the creature began rushing her again. She pointed the camera back and clicked.

 _Cheep!_ Another flash. Another roar. Almost there.

It seemed the creature was beginning to realize the flashes of light weren't going to last. It rushed her again much more quickly. Just before it reached her she clicked. _Cheep!_

A furious snarl. She'd reached the forest. She clicked again, and wildly wondered exactly what she would see if she got a chance to look over her pictures.

She heard the phone play its out-of-power tone and shut off just as she flew into camp. She kept the fire stocked with kindling at all times now, flint beside it in abundance, and she lunged for this just as she felt the creature darting for her one last time.

Just as she stuck a few sparks onto the dry grass, a searing pain slashed across her left shoulder blade, and she cried out. The creature snarled happily, and something wrapped around her leg and began pulling her back into the forest.

Then the fire caught in earnest from the sparks, and the force gripping her leg let go, receding with a disappointed growl.

She crawled back to the fire, blowing frantically on it to make it catch faster, and soon she had a merry blaze to ward off the dark.

She wasn't feeling remotely merry, though. Her heart was pounding, her breath was heavy in her lungs and sharp in her throat, and her shoulder was screaming in agony. Spent, she collapsed by the fire, thankful that she had at least enough kindling to get her through the night.

She wondered how heavily she was bleeding. Would she bleed out before morning came? How was she supposed to treat the wound? She couldn't even reach it.

She whimpered and closed her eyes, willing the fear, pain, and uncertainty away.

She was drifting lazily in and out of consciousness for several minutes before she heard something rustling in the bushes.

She turned her spinning head to the side to see a light flickering in the darkness just outside of her camp, and a moment later the source became apparent. A torch emerged gripped tightly by…him. The man. He'd found her at last.

Her throat constricted. He was gripping his torch in one hand, but the other held his spear, drawn and ready for use. He caught sight of her at once, laying facedown beside her fire, and his eyes widened in shock.

The blood-loss must have been pretty bad, because she found that she lacked the energy to do anything. She barely even had enough energy to be afraid at this point. She said nothing as he walked over to her. What was there to say?

Instead she just scrunched her eyes closed and waited.

She heard him kneel down beside her and felt the light warmth of a hand on her back. After a moment of silence, he said, "Oh, dear. This doesn't look good. And no medical supplies here either, I shouldn't wonder."

She cracked her eyes open and looked up at him. He seemed to be examining her wound, and when he caught her eye he explained, "I saw those flashes of light leading to this little branch of the forest and assumed you must have been fleeing the Shadow that stalks the night here. I grabbed a torch and came out to investigate. It's a good thing you managed to get a fire going – that thing is merciless."

She groaned in concurrence and shut her eyes again. She was tired.

"Ah, none of that, now. Come on, we need to get you back to my base. I have medical supplies there. Come on, _up."_

And with that he moved to her other side, wrapped an arm around her, and started tugging her into a kneeling position.

She opened her eyes and looked at him again. It seemed he wasn't as hostile as she'd assumed. Was he...really trying to help her?

Obviously he was. Once she was kneeling he got an arm under her shoulder and helped heave her to her feet. It agitated the wound on her other side and she winced in pain.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But we need to move. This torch won't last forever, nor will your blood supply. Let's go, quickly now." He began half-dragging her towards out of the camp, towards his base.

The journey seemed a bit surreal to her, not unlike that first night she'd heard the voice – Maxwell's voice – come to life on the radio at the museum. As they stumbled through the darkness she croacked out, "Who are you?"

"I," he grunted through the strain of supporting her, "Am Wilson Percival Higgsbury, gentleman scientist, survivor extraordinaire, master and tamer of this vile wilderness. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

She thought he sounded a bit full of himself, but in a quirky way rather than an irritating one. "You're Wilson? The real one?"

"Real one? Is there an imposter of some sort running around?"

"Mhm," she replied drowsily. "Some guy named Maxwell."

To her dull surprise, Wilson seemed to recognize the name and responded to it with a low hiss. "Maxwell! Of course. That…bah. I have words for that man, but none that would be appropriate to utter in polite conversation."

Yeah, she had a few words for him too, but darned if she could remember any of them. Her head dipped and she heard Wilson say, "Almost there, come on, just a bit further."

It was just as well that they were close – the torch was burning low. Thankfully it seemed that Wilson had left a fire going because as they neared the base Allena could hear the crackling of a large blaze.  
For the second time she passed between the rough stone pillars that marked the entry to the man's home. This time with his permission. He dragged her the last short ways to what appear to be a makeshift medical station and put the torch out. He sat her down heavily on a low bench and said, "Wait here. I'm going to get a bit more light and fetch my salves and sewing kit. I already have a pot of water boiling, thankfully."

She made a sound of confirmation, but her eyelids were fluttering closed. It was all she could do to stay upright.

She drifted off a bit and the next thing she knew, Wilson was talking to her. She opened her eyes to see that it was considerably brighter than it had been before, and that there was a wide array of medical supplies on a small table near her. She hadn't been hearing him, but now she was picking up the words.

"…a bit uncomfortable, I know, but I need to work on the wound. At least it isn't too cold out tonight."

He started unzipping her jacket and she realized he must have wanted to look at the injury. It was a bit chilly, but she was too out-of-it to protest. Instead she just shrugged the jacket off and let him remove her shirt. It seemed to her that she should probably have been embarrassed about this, but she was just too tired. Her bra strap had been severed by the blow, so he didn't need to remove that.

He laid her face down on the bench so he could work on the wound, and for a moment she was comfortable enough to fall asleep. Then the pain started.

She whimpered when she felt him dabbing at the wound with a hot, wet cloth. "I know it hurts, but I need to clean it," he said calmly. "Just bear with me, I know what I'm doing. I may not be a doctor, but I did undergo extensive medical training during my school days. Actually, I received quite a few commendations from my professors…"

She listened hazily as he recounted his academic triumphs and scientific prestige, and for the sake of not interrupting him she bit down on her lip and kept her expressions of pain all but silent. He droned on quite a bit while treating her wound, and she found the distraction oddly comforting. She decided it was partly his voice, partly his confidence. His voice was soothing, almost musical, with a hint of some vaguely European accent. His tone was one of supreme self-assurance, the subtext of his words clearly stating: 'there's no one better qualified in all the world to treat your injuries than me, so just sit still and relax.' She had to admit, the subtext was hardly necessary given the explicitly grandiose nature of his self-description.

"And finally," he concluded as he finished applying some foul-smelling, stinging salve and reached for a tuft of silky white gauze, "I graduated summa cum laude from that accursed school, in spite of my disdain for their skewed grading systems and absurd tendencies towards politicization…though the title of valedictorian eluded me. A bureaucratic decision, I assure you. I was well deserving of the title." He began unwinding the gauzy substance and applying it to her wound. "At any rate, I think all of that – combined with the extensive hands-on experience I've accrued during my time here – ought to be enough to deal with _this._ "

He pressed the gauze on and she winced slightly. The pain had revived her a bit, but she was starting to flag again. As he secured the gauze in place she said drowsily, "You really are a genius, aren't you? I'm sure I'll be fine…" She yawned.

She sensed him pause, and when he spoke again some of the self-assurance seemed to have left him. "I certainly hope so. It would be…disheartening to lose the first decent person I've come across so quickly."

She hummed in response, barely conscious. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"I have a spare sleeping bag," she heard him say. "I'll set it up for you…"

Her shoulder barely hurt at all anymore. She wasn't sure if he got the sleeping bag ready or not, but it didn't really matter. Within the minute she was asleep.


	8. New Territory

The man must have managed to get her into her sleeping bag, because when Allena awoke it was in a cloth and leather bundle lined with some sort of hair or fur. It seemed he'd carried her to it and tucked her in, because she had no memory of anything past him treating her injury.

She woke to the sound of a crackling fire and sizzling food. A delicious smell pervaded the air, and she forced herself to sit up. The sky was rich blue with pre-dawn light, and it was extremely chilly.

She brought her hands up to rub the sting of sleep out of her eyes. When she blinked them open she saw Red-vest – Wilson – sitting in front of a fire, poking at something on a crude metal griddle. He looked over and saw that she was awake, then blushed and looked away.

She was confused for a moment. Then she looked down and realized that her shirt was still gone. Oh, cripes. Everything must have been ruined in the attack. She blushed as well and tugged her sleeping bag up around her shoulders, wincing as it brushed her wound. "Uh…good morning."

"Good morning," he said without looking at her. "I left a spare shirt there for you."

As he said this he gestured to a roughly-sewn brown shirt. It would be baggy on her given that it was his size, but better by far than nothing. She tugged it on, though her shoulder injury made it difficult. Once she was decent again she wormed her way out of the sleeping bag and stood up shakily.

He glanced over. When he saw her dressed and rising he got up and dashed to her side to help her. "Steady, now. You lost quite a bit of blood last night. Take it easy."

She let him help her to the fire. "I'll be okay," she said groggily. She really, really didn't want to be a burden, not after all he'd done for her last night. Now that everything was coming back to her she realized that had he not seen her fleeing the shadow and come to investigate, she'd very possibly be dead.

It was also true that he was partly the reason she'd been out so late, but she was willing to overlook that for the moment.

As soon as they were both seated comfortably she felt curiosity emanating from him as strongly as the warmth pouring from the fire. His eyes kept flickering between her and the food he was making, and Allena got the sense that he was waiting for her to make the first move towards conversation. It seemed he didn't want to pressure her into talking if she wasn't feeling up for it. A gentleman scientist in more than the traditional sense, then.

She wasn't exactly feeling great, but truth be told she was just as curious about him as he was about her. He still made her a bit nervous – unavoidable, given her injured state and corresponding dependence on the strange and intimidating man – but he'd made it fairly obvious that he didn't view her as an enemy.

She opened her mouth to speak and realized that she was horribly parched. "I don't mean to be a bother," she said. "But do have any water?"

He reached at once for a rough cloth and used it to pick up a clay bowl that had been resting on the outskirts of the fire pit, in the embers. "Here," he said while handing her the insulated bowl. "It has some honey mixed in. It isn't a good cup of tea but it will suffice, I think."

She sipped the hot honey-water and nearly moaned in relief. Quenching, warming, and sweet. "Thank you. That's very kind of you." She drank deeply. It soothed her sore throat and brought her back to life a little. "It's perfect."

He looked quite satisfied with himself. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No," she said. "I'm fine for now. So, you're…Wilson? The scientist?"

"Wilson Percival Higgsbury. At your service." He nodded deeply in lieu of a bow. "It seems you're familiar with my name. You mentioned something about an imposter last night, I believe? And Maxwell…?"

Ah, that seemed to be the current root of his curiosity. She dredged up that part of the conversation – everything was still a bit blurry to her. "Yes. It's a bit complicated."

His eyes flashed, though he tried to hide it by focusing on the meat and feigning a more casual interest. "Oh? Well, if you're feeling up to it, I'm always interested in a good story…"

Wilson was not a good actor. He set the cooking fork he'd been using aside and began twiddling his thumbs, glancing around as though she wasn't the absolute center of his attention. She found herself smiling. "I guess I should probably introduce myself–"

"Allena Jones," he cut in suddenly. Then he restrained himself. "I mean, I assume that's you? The one who left the note, and the supplies?"

Oh. Right. She'd forgotten that she'd signed that note. "Yes, that's me. I live in Foxcroft-Dover. Are you familiar?"

She wasn't sure if the town had been around when he'd been living there. He answered promptly, though. "Hmm. Well, I know of Foxcroft, and I know of Dover. Have the two towns merged since I've been gone?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I work at a museum in town. Some of your…uh…stuff ended up in the museum."

He now looked at her more fully, surprise clear on his face. "My things? In a museum? I've only been gone three years. Surely my belongings don't qualify as antiques quite yet? Unless it's one of those newfangled museums of _modern_ history?"

Her heart sank. Three years? It looked like time really did pass differently here than there. In the amount of time he'd been gone…

She swallowed. "Oh. No. I'm not sure how to tell you this, Wilson – may I call you Wilson?" She asked nervously. He might prefer Mr. Higgsbury. Or Doctor. Had he mentioned a doctorate last night?

He nodded at the familiarity, so it seemed 'Wilson' would be fine.

She continued. "Time has been passing differently back in our world than here. It's been going a lot faster."

"Faster? What do you mean?"

She hesitated, but decided it was probably better to just spit it out. "It hasn't been three years since you vanished. By our clock, you disappeared almost a century ago."

His expression morphed into absolute shock. "A century…? A _hundred years…?_ How…but…what year is it where you come from?"

"You disappeared around nineteen-twenty, right? Well, I came here from twenty-nineteen."

His jaw dropped. "You're from the twenty-first century…well into it, too…but that means…when I finally get home…"

She waited for him to lament about the uncertainty, the strangeness, the loss of everything and everyone he'd known.

She was very surprised when his mouth broke instead into a wide smile. "When I get home I'll have a hundred years of scientific advancements to avail myself of! Oh, you'll have to tell me what I have to look forward to, assuming humanity didn't completely grind to a halt with the loss of my magnificent mind!"

It took her a moment to realize this last statement was, in fact, a joke. When that occurred to her, along with the fact that he didn't seem remotely upset about the news, she answered his smile with one of her own, and laughed.

The sound seemed to take him by surprise as much as the news that he'd been missing for a hundred years. His attention, which seemed to have been wandering to realms of unimagined scientific advancement, snapped back fully onto her again.

She quieted quickly. Realizing that his look had been the cause he said, "Pardon me! It's just been so long since I've heard the laughter of another human being, let alone that of a young woman. I'd forgotten how pleasant a sound it could be."

She blushed and took another sip of honey water.

"So," he asked, eager to continue the conversation. "You say my things ended up in a museum? How did that come about?"

She finished the drink and set the bowl down. "You vanished without a trace a hundred years ago, and no one knew what happened to you, so everyone assumed that you died working on that device in your lab. Your house has been widely regarded as the most haunted building in the region ever since. Kids had been going there for decades on dares and whatnot, but once tourism started picking up – people love visiting haunted houses – the town council decided it would be wiser to just take everything of note from the house and put it all into a museum. They didn't want people wandering around a century-old manor. It just wasn't safe."

He'd been listening intently, seemingly amused at the idea of his house being regarded as haunted, and now nodded. "I see. Then my device still exists?"

"Yeah," she said grimly. "That's sort of why I'm here."

He frowned. "My device brought you here? I'm surprised that it still works."

Well, here was the part where she had to tell him she got played for an absolute fool. "It didn't," she said hesitantly. "But a couple of weeks ago I was cleaning it – I got a summer job as a janitor in the museum – and the radio next to it started talking to me."

Now Wilson scowled deeply. "Maxwell. Of course. I take it he offered you forbidden knowledge? Perhaps some sort of untold reward, or a gateway to adventure?"

She shook her head. "No. He actually didn't introduce himself as Maxwell. He sort of…pretended to be _you._ He spun me a story about having made the Device to be a permanent gateway, but that it malfunctioned and trapped him here, and that he needed me to fix the thing so he could get home."

Now that she was recounting it, her shoulders started to droop. She'd really fallen for his stupid story hook, line, and sinker. And she'd thought the fish in the ponds here were dumb. "He said this place was a living hell, that he needed help, and I felt awful. I agreed to help him and I fixed the machine, but as soon as I flipped the switch he just started laughing. Called me a gullible fool. Then I got dragged in here and…well, I've been here for about two weeks."

She'd been staring into the low fire, but now she looked up and saw that Wilson looked quite stricken. "You fixed the machine in an attempt to help me? Him? Me?"

He seemed a bit baffled. She shrugged. "Yeah. I guess I should have been more careful. Now I'm stuck here, too."

As she said this she felt her throat tighten. She felt like an idiot for getting herself trapped here, and though she'd kept herself distracted for the last two weeks just keeping herself alive and hidden, she was now forced to admit that the odds of her ever getting home were slim. Maybe nonexistent. If Wilson, with all his knowledge and experience, couldn't get back home…what chance did she have?

She wrapped her arms around herself and looked away, forcing back the tears that were starting to sting her eyes. She didn't want to cry in front of a complete stranger. Especially one who had gone to such lengths to make her feel safe and comfortable.

He was quiet for a minute. Then he said, "You shouldn't feel bad about getting fooled by Maxwell. Trust me, he's outwitted smarter people than you. At any rate, you were only trying to help. That's a far more noble reason for being here than mine."

She swallowed her tears, took a deep breath, and asked, "What happened to you?"

His features morphed into a look of pompous indignation, and a spark of humor melted away some of the despair that was threatening to freeze her. "I'd been conducting research in my private lab, and things hadn't been going well for me. Maxwell showed up talking through the radio, as he did to you, and temped me with some 'secret knowledge'."

That brought a memory back to her. "Oh. I guess that's what he meant. While I was being pulled through he said, 'I've played the part of Tempter before, but never Supplicant'."

Wilson nodded. "Well, he shoved a bundle of raw information into my head – all sadly gone now, it seemed to leak away within days of my arrival and I retained no records of it – and I put it to use without thought or hesitation. When I threw the switch I was tossed into this world, and I've been here ever since. About three years by my clock, as I said."

At this point the meat he'd been cooking was done. He pulled out a couple of smooth wooden plates and dished them both up some food, then pulled some roasted carrots out of a small container nearby and dumped them on the side. He handed her a plate and kept one for himself. "As you can see, I've made myself quite comfortable here, in spite of all I've have to put up with."

She took the plate and popped a carrot slice into her mouth as she looked around. She finished chewing and said, "So you made all of this yourself?"

He straightened up and nodded. "All from scratch. I came through with nothing but the clothes on my back."

She was struck with a sense of genuine respect and admiration. She had wondered – though she would never tell him this – whether he'd made this himself or simply found the base and driven off (or killed) its previous inhabitants, making it his own. But now that she'd seen his capabilities firsthand she was quite certain that he wasn't the type of man who needed to steal.

She shook her head in amazement. "This is incredible. You did all of this with nothing…and I couldn't chop down a tree without stealing the axe," she concluded bitterly.

He paused with a bite halfway to his mouth. He looked to be at a loss for words.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. The meat was really amazing, and she told him so.

"Beefalo," he explained. "It's a treat, and so long as I'm careful about how many I hunt they make quite the sustainable food source."

It sounded like he hunted bigger game than rabbits and fish, then. This guy really was impressive. "I'm sorry about stealing your things," she said. She knew she'd left a note saying as much, but she was still going to take this chance to apologize face-to-face. "I didn't know how to make anything. I just wanted to look at them to figure out how it was done."

He swallowed the bite he'd been working on and said, "Hmm. Yes, I surmised as much by the replica tools you left behind, as well as by the fish and wood. Thank you for all of that, by the way – I was running low on extra tools. I greatly appreciated it, and the craftsmanship was superb, especially for a beginner."

She shrugged. "It was the least I could do. I saw you when you discovered the tools were missing. You looked furious."

He sighed. "Yes. I'd been having trouble with a thief for the last month, and was afraid that I'd have to deal with another one."

She shuddered. "You mean the man in brown?" Her voice came out as an unintentional squeak.

He'd become absorbed in his meal again, but at her tone he froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. Lowering it back to his plate, he asked, "Did you know the man?"

She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "No. He was just the first person I saw when I got here. I'd barely been here half an hour before I saw him walking into your base. Then you got back and caught him and…"

She trailed off, not wanting to finish.

"Ah. If you saw that, I supposed it explains why you were so reluctant to simply come over and introduce yourself."

His voice sounded oddly detached. She nodded and took another bite of meat. Though it was excellently cooked, it was dry in her mouth.

They finished the rest of their meals. Then Wilson stood up and she did the same. He walked over to a shallow basin of water and began washing his plate.

He reached for hers, but she said, "I can do it." She didn't want to make him do all the dishes after he'd already cooked the meal and done everything else.

He took it anyways. "It's fine."

As he began scrubbing her plate he spoke, voice low. "I'm sorry you had to see that. It may be difficult to justify what I did, but I must tell you, that man had been stalking me for a month before our last encounter. He'd been raiding my supplies continuously, stealing my food and tools, and I assure you he never made any attempt to return them or compensate me for them. Nonetheless, if theft had the worst of it I may have let him go; but the last time I'd seen him, I'd been hunting spiders. Tricky creatures, and dangerous if you don't know how to handle them, but I'd been doing it long enough that it was no longer a bother to me."

His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a harder tone. "The man had followed me to my usually hunting spot. He waited for me to engage one of the creatures, then snuck up from behind and tried to stab me. He underestimated my combat prowess, however. I avoided him, quickly dispatched the spider, and made to defend myself. Having failed to kill me in an ambush, he decided – wisely – that fighting me one-on-one would be a losing proposition. He ran. That was when I decided that it was too risky to have him living near me. So when I had the chance, I killed him."

Allena listened. When he finished speaking she mulled it over. If the man had indeed tried to murder him, and had been continuously stealing his supplies – and in a harsh wilderness, that could be just as akin to a lethal attack – then the killing would have been justified.

She sighed. "There's a difference between 'right' and 'necessary'. Taking a life just isn't right…"

He looked over at her, expressionless.

She took a deep breath and concluded, "But sometimes it is necessary. I suppose I need to accept that. Anyways, it's not my place to judge you."

His eyebrows twitched. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

He dried the dishes, put them away, turned to her and said, "So, I take it this means we shan't be enemies?"

She smiled at him. "No. Let's see if we can be friends instead."

At this his face lit up considerably. "Friends. I must admit, a friend would be a pleasant change of pace. It's always nice to have someone to talk to. I had a talking parrot for a while, but aside from the fact that he did very little besides insult me, he died the first winter I had him. A tropical bird, you know?"

Her eyebrows rose. "A tropical talking parrot? It sounds like you have a fair few stories to tell."

He nodded eager concurrence. "A fair few. But I must admit, I'd rather like to hear yours first. You say that you didn't have a good handle on survivorship upon arriving, but you seem to have done fairly well for yourself regardless. You clearly aren't starving, and you had a decent setup from what little I saw. You even had a sleeping bag. Pray tell, how did you manage so much?"

They went to sit beside the fire again. Although the sun had risen properly it was still a bit chilly. "After the first time I talked to the man on the radio – Maxwell – something struck me as a little bit wrong. He'd mentioned getting trapped in some sort wilderness, so the next day before I came back to repair the device I packed up some camping supplies, just in case, and they got dragged in with me. I've used those to skate by, but mostly I've just been getting stuff from the island."

Wilson frowned. "Island? What island?"

She pointed in the direction of her island. "The island I showed up on. You know, the one just over the rise over there?"

He shook his head dismissively. "There's nothing over there but open ocean. I scouted this entire place out when I first settled here."

Her mouth quirked down. "Well, either you missed an island or it just wasn't there the first time you looked. Would you like to go over and check it out…?"

He had an annoyed expression on his face, though she suspected he was more annoyed with the circumstance at large than with her. She wasn't sure why, though. Maybe it just had to do with him not having a perfect understanding of his surroundings.

At any rate, he jumped up and said, "Certainly. I'll be just a moment getting my things together. Do you think you're fit to travel?"

She stood up and tested her legs. Solid. "Yeah. Not much of a 'travel', though. It's hardly a ten minute walk."

He looked skeptical, and she suspected he didn't believe her about there being an island. Well, more fool him.

He gathered up a few supplies including a mostly empty backpack, his spear, a flask of water, and a map and quill. He showed this to her before they set out. "Look, I've made a map of the region. Perhaps you could point out to me where, approximately, you arrived?"

She looked it over. It was an excellent map; clear, detailed, and accurate. Well, mostly accurate. She pointed to the spot on the map that very clearly stood out to her as her point of origin.

He looked at the spot where her finger hovered. "Hmm. That's open sea."

She shrugged again.

He sighed and rolled the map up. "Well, lead on. At the very least I'm sure you'll want to get back to your own camp and make sure everything is in order there. I apologize for dragging you away from it so unceremoniously last night."

"It's fine," she said. "If you hadn't I'd probably be dead. Thank you, by the way, for everything you did last night. Your care was excellent."

He puffed up a bit as they departed. "Yes, well, as I said, I have a great deal of experience and education in matters of medicine and anatomy."

"I've always enjoyed anatomy, though I haven't gotten the chance to study it thoroughly. I did take a class on it in high school, though. We dissected a cat."

"Indeed? What was your favorite part?"

"Well, I really enjoyed comparing the feline muscle composition to that of humans and seeing where they differed in terms of proportion. I hadn't realized how similar we are. Though from a purely aesthetic point of view, the greater omentum was by far my favorite internal structure. It's surprisingly beautiful, what with the translucent membranes and veins of adipose tissue."

They spent the rest of the walk to the edge of the land mass discussing the relative aesthetic merits of various anatomical structures, occasionally even touching upon their practical functions. They were just coming to the relative thinness of the feline abdominal wall when they reached the ridge.

As soon as they made their way up the gentle slope to the edge of the land mass Wilson stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened as he looked out on the small island which upon which she'd spawned. "What!? How? This wasn't here when I first arrived! This wasn't even here two months ago!"

Allena, holding back laughter at his shock, said, "Well, when I first woke up it was to Maxwell standing over me telling me to find some food and shelter. That was right over there." She pointed to where she'd first awoken.

Wilson was gazing out on the landscape, and as he did so his expression grew a bit hungry. "Well, this is really something. I awoke in just such a spot as this – resource-rich, bright, open, forgiving. I suppose it's this world's way of making sure we don't die right off the bat."

Allena hummed thoughtfully. "To what end, I wonder?"

Wilson's face darkened for a moment. Only for a moment, though. He brightened up almost at once. "Why, you haven't even touched the flowers! Look at them all! I haven't seen a hoard like this in months!"

  
"I didn't know what kinds they were," she said. "I can't tell a geranium from a daisy. For all I knew they could be poisonous."

He shook his head as he started across the land bridge. "I've long since learned that none of the flowers or fruits in this world are poisonous, though there are a few that will really give you the chills if you pick them. I've written myself an entire encyclopedia botanica on the subject. Only the mushrooms can be dangerous, though that depends on how they're prepared. _Never_ eat them raw."

They made their way into the shallow valley, and as they did so Wilson began picking every flower he came across. Allena strolled casually behind. As much as she may have enjoyed joining him, she was really exhausted from the short trek. She'd lost a lot of blood the previous night. Her shoulder felt great, though.

She couldn't help but smile, watching him. He'd generally come off as either intimidating or a bit austere thus far. It was really something to see him running excitedly through an open field, picking flowers. He plucked them almost frantically as they wandered around investigating the area.

Wilson drew farther and farther ahead of her but she didn't mind. There wasn't anything dangerous out here, anyways. Eventually he stowed the bulging handful he had in his pack, then looked around to see that she had fallen quite far behind. He jogged back to her and said, "I'm sorry, this must be exhausting you. Perhaps you'd like to sit down for a while? I brought a snack if you get hungry again."

"No, I'm alright for now. Thank you, though."

He shifted his pack on his shoulder and said, "Very well. Tell me if you need anything. Now, I wonder what else this island might hold…?"

She wasn't sure what he was looking for, so she decided to fill him in on where she'd been. "I've gone over the savannah for rocks and cleaned out most of the berry bushes and carrots. Haven't done much with the forest except chop down a small tree or two."

He turned towards the forest. "Well, there's almost always something of interest in such places. Perhaps a spider's nest. I can always use more silk."

She thought back to the line he'd used for his fishing pole, as well as the gauze he'd used on her last night. "You really hunt those things for their silk?"

He nodded. "And their glands, too. It's the main component of my healing salves."

She recalled the size and menace of the spiders she'd seen so far. She couldn't imagine getting within thirty feet of one of those things willingly, let alone hunting them. "You really are incredible," she said offhandedly.

Again he seemed to light up at her compliment, and she sensed that he rather enjoyed having his ego stroked. That was fine by her. She'd never anticipated that cordiality and arrogance could mix well, but lo and behold, he truly seemed like the perfect gentleman in spite of his relatively big head.

He made for the forest, though when she reached the outskirts he paused and said, "You're welcome to wait here if you're tired. Or to come along if you're feeling up to it. Rest assured, nothing in there will harm you while you have me on your side."

As he said this he reached around and drew his spear, winking at her. This man tooted his own horn so much he could have been a one-man band.

She decided to go along with him. It couldn't hurt to get to know her environment a bit more. "No doubt," she said laughingly. "Honestly, what made you decide to start hunting giant spiders?"

His expression grew a bit more somber. "Necessity, I'm afraid. My first winter here was rather harsh." They started into the forest. "I'd been running low on rabbit jerky and I'd exhausted all of my vegetables. I knew the beefalo weren't going to hold me over forever, not if I wanted the herd to last, and the only other living thing the region had in abundance was spiders."

Well, it seemed there were winters here, and without adequate preparation they weren't apt to be pleasant. He helped her over a large fallen tree and said, "The first time I killed a spider I was quite amazed at how easily they went down. It didn't take but a few well-placed strikes to defeat them. The problem was numbers, as I soon found out. They shriek, you know. It draws every spider from their nest in their direction, so I quickly learned that I needed to be careful. Nowadays I take care to keep their numbers fairly low without eradicating them completely. I need the silk and glands."

"And the meat?" She asked. "Is it any good?"

He winced. "It's atrocious. It kept me alive as an emergency ration, but it made me sick as a dog if I ate too much, and no amount of cooking or spices made it remotely palatable. I even tried making a lasagna of it, to no avail. It will keep you from starving to death, but not much more."

They made their way into a small clearing. As they did so there was a loud rustling sound in the bushes to their right. Wilson tensed immediately. Allena asked, "What was that?"

Wilson held up a hand to silence her. He looked back and motioned for her to wait there while he investigated.

She didn't like the thought of him stalking off to confront whatever was stalking them, but she was sure he was capable of handling whatever the forest may throw at them. She nodded and stepped back to wait beside a tree.

He gripped his spear tighter and silently crept towards the sound.

Allena listened intently for the sounds of a struggle. There was nothing for at least two minutes, but this was more encouraging that worrying. The sounds of a fight would have been more alarming.

As she considered this she heard a slight shuffling off to her left. She looked over slowly and saw the spider.

Like the others she'd seen, it was the size of a large dog; a German shepherd, perhaps. Unlike the others she'd seen, it showed no fear of her whatsoever.

She didn't move. If she ran or called for help it would very likely be on her in moments. Her best bet, as much as she hated the idea, but probably to try to intimidate it while calling for Wilson to come back.

  
She clenched her fists, made to jump at it – and heard something in the tree just above her.

Her reflexes had become too good over the last two weeks to make the mistake of looking up. She reacted instantly, leaping into the clearing away from the tree and letting out a bark of alarm as she saw the huge black shape descend right where she'd been a moment before. The one that had clearly been distracting her started crawling aside to cut down on her venues of escape while the ambusher turned about to confront her.

These things were pack hunters.

She cried out in alarm. "Wilson? Wilson!"

She wanted to turn and run in the direction Wilson had gone, but it would be foolish beyond measure to turn her back to these things. Instead she raised her fists in a defensive posture and braced for an attack.

The two spiders had been stalking towards her, but halted when they saw her fighting stance. The three of them – two giant spiders, one frightened girl – stared each other down. Everyone was weighing their options.

Apparently she didn't weigh very much. Another moment's pause and they both rushed her at once.

She cried out in fright, stepped forward, and desperately punched one of them right in the face.

It drew back with a hiss. The other one lunged, but she leaped backwards out of its range. The first one made to lunge at her again, and as it leaped a spear hurtled out of the bushes behind in and sank into its fanged gullet.

Allena couldn't tell due to the lack of pupils, but it seemed to her as though the second spider's bulbous white eyes rolled to the right, where Wilson was just hurtling out of the undergrowth. He charged straight at the spider and it turned and ran away with a terrified squeal.

She let out a sigh of relief. It seemed Wilson was as good at this as he said he was.

She was about to thank him for the save, but before she could he whirled around, grabbed her by her shirt collar and threw her violently to the side.

As he did so he leaped to the opposite side, and a colossal black-and-yellow striped spider flung itself out of the bushes Wilson had just come from, barely missing them both.

All three of them hit the ground hard. The spider regained its footing and turned heavily around to face them. The thing was nearly twice the size of the normal spiders. Its legs were thicker as well, and it looked to be able to use them to spring like a jumping spider. It seemed to Allena that its six beady white eyes were gazing in two different directions – half at her, half at Wilson.

The moment froze. The spider stood, legs bunched beneath it, ready for a lethal leap. She and Wilson both made adequate targets, given that the man was unarmed. Would it go for the weaker prey, or the more substantial meal?

To Allena's horror, it seemed to think Wilson was the better choice. It leaped for him without warning, a cannonball with fangs, prompting the man to fling himself to the side to avoid being barreled into.

  
Allena acted without thinking. Wilson was on the ground, back to the spider, and it had already turned and was baring it fangs to strike.

She ran for the spider and jumped.

It hissed horribly as she landed on its back, and her arms flew out to hook around its pedipalps. Its fangs sank down, but weren't able to quite hit her. Its legs came up and back in an attempt to knock her off, but it couldn't get a good grip on her.

It was able to sink its little leg hooks into her shoulder, though. On the right shoulder it was barely more than a sting. On the left, it was agony.

She screamed as the tiny hooks started tearing into her wound. Wilson wasted no time whatsoever, gaining his feet and flying for the spear. He grabbed it just as the tiger-spider turned to face him, and with a roar of fury he ran straight at it, plunging the spear into its face.

The spider went cross-eyed in an attempt to look at the shaft of the weapon. Allena feared that the blow wouldn't be enough, but as it tried to step away it jerked once – twice – then fell limply to the ground.

She let go of it and rolled off its back, hurt and tired. She was gasping for breath, but Wilson jumped over the dead spider, grabbed her uninjured shoulder, and like last night began dragging her out of the forest. He must have been concerned about more spiders attacking.

This time she was altogether more helpful. Though tired, she was at least able to walk mostly on her own. They reached the edge of the forest and as soon as they were a good ten feet from the tree line he settled her down on the grass and said, "Are you alright? Were you bitten?"

"No," she said. She was gasping for breath, and had to speak in short increments. "It just got…my shoulder. Why…? Are they…venomous?"

He shook his head. "No, none that I've seen so far. Their fangs are solid, actually. Not hollow. So no venom, but the bites are deep and vicious."

She sat there catching her breath. Her heart was thudding heavily in her chest and her head was starting to spin.

He was already examining her shoulder. "Damnit. It's bleeding again."

She felt awful, physically and emotionally. Breath regained she said, "I'm sorry. You patched me up so well and I managed to get myself injured again immediately."

  
He looked at her incredulously. "Don't be absurd. You were amazing. You were brave and smart enough to stand your ground against the spiders that attacked you, and had you not intervened the way you did…"

He trailed off, paling slightly. Then he shook his head and helped her back to her feet. "It's my fault this happened. I should have known not to be drawn away by a noise in the bushes. I've only ever faced them by myself, so while I knew they were pack hunters I didn't realize they were clever enough to split us up intentionally. _Damn_ those things."

As they stood, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder and said, "Thank you. You saved my life again."

He glanced down at her and said, "You saved mine."

"You wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't been trying to help me."

"I shouldn't have left you alone in the first place."

"You wouldn't have been drawn away if you hadn't been trying to keep me safe."

"Your injury was reopened saving my life."

"The only reason my injury was closed in the first place was because you treated it."

"You wouldn't have gotten that injury in the first place if you hadn't been out so late, which was my fault for chasing you into the forest."

She started laughing as they began making their way back towards the ridge and mainland. "If it's that important to you, let's just say we're even, alright?"

He looked worried. "I still feel as though I've wronged you."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if you feel the need to make up for it even more, I suppose I could allow you to treat my injury again." She winked at him.

He looked down at her in surprise, then smiled weakly. "I suppose that will have to do."

He frowned as they reached the top of the ridge. "It's quite a ways back to my base. Will you hold up until we get there? You've already lost so much blood."

It was true. She'd been leaning on him more and more heavily as they'd walked, and she was worried she might pass out if they tried to cross the savannah. "Why don't we go to my base? I have a first-aid kit there."

"Indeed? Very well then. That will suffice for triage."

They shambled towards the forest. Within just a few minutes they reached her camp.

She was glad to see everything still in order from when she'd left it. Her tools were still stacked beneath one of the trees that surrounded her clearing, the tarp that covered the food-hole she'd dug was undisturbed, and everything else was piled neatly beside her backpack.

She let go of Wilson and made her way unsteadily to her supplies, left arm dangling limply by her side. She quickly picked out the large white plastic box marked with a telltale red cross and turned around, passing it to Wilson.

He was looking past her to her things, a very curious expression on his face. No doubt they all looked strange to them. Not only were they all manufactured goods, something he wouldn't have seen for a long time, they were also twenty-first century goods. Doubly strange.

Still, he wrenched his eyes off her treasure trove and opened up the box. As soon as he did so his eyes lit up. "Look at all of this! High-quality gauze, disinfectants, sterile needles and tools…what are all these pills?"

She sat down heavily and shrugged off her shirt again, back to him. "Normal stuff. Antihistamines, decongestants, anti-inflammatories, painkillers. Everything you'd need to help you get over basic injuries and illnesses."

He got to work immediately unpacking what he needed. "Good heavens. An apothecary in a box. I hope you'll be willing to show me what other marvels you were able to bring with you?"

She supposed she ought to have been concerned that he might want to simply steal all she'd brought with her, but she wasn't. Perhaps it was what they'd been through in the last hour; perhaps it was all the care he'd given her since they'd met; perhaps it was the fact that he was the only other human being in this dreadful place; or maybe it was the fact that he was terribly attractive. Whatever the reason, substantial or shallow, she found that she already trusted Wilson as much as she'd ever trusted anyone in her life.

Not that that was saying much.

"I'd be happy to…ahh…"

She groaned in pain as Wilson began disinfecting the wound. He worked quickly, but it was still awful to endure. Eager for a distraction, she made an attempt to get Wilson talking again. "So, you said you've been here for three years? Have you been living in this area all that time, or have you traveled around?"

"I settled in this area and began building that base almost two years ago, actually. I arrived in this world in early spring three years ago and spent the first year wandering around making temporary encampments as I explored the region in an attempt to find a way home."

"I guess you weren't successful."

He sighed. "No. I'm afraid not. In all my time here I haven't found a single clue as to how to get home. I still make exploratory expeditions every spring, but thus far…nothing."

Her heart twinged along with her wound. "I'm sorry. I imagine it's been awful living here alone for so long. Or have you had any other company?"

Rather than answer her question he said, "The spider did quite a lot of damage to your injury. The wound is now large enough to warrant stiches. The next few minutes are going to hurt quite a bit."

Her mouth went dry. She'd never gotten stitches before and she wasn't looking forward to the experience without anesthesia. "Okay. I'll be fine. So, have many…urk…other people been trapped here?"

She felt the cold prick of the needle on her skin, and when it slid in she clamped her teeth down hard, grinding them in an attempt to hold in the pain. Wilson continued, seemingly unperturbed. "Yes, I've run into other people from time to time. No one friendly, and all dead now. The largest percentile of humanity I've come across has already been deceased. You'd be amazing how many skeletons you find while you're wandering around this world."

Through the pain she said shakily, "That must be a terrible thing to…ungh…come across."

"Hmm. Better them than me, I suppose. And they always have supplies to scavenge. I'd probably be dead several times over had it not been for them."

His attitude seemed a bit callous, but she supposed that was understandable. Besides, her own empathy was badly blunted at that particular moment by the searing pain of a needle delving in and out of her skin. Tremors were passing sporadically through her body as she forced herself to endure the procedure in relative silence.

"After my first winter here I realized that I needed a permanent base if I was to survive future winters. I scouted around for another two months before settling here. It had everything I needed – a forest for lumber and spiders, savannah and grassland for flowers and rabbits, a swamp with pools for fishing, and there's a beefalo herd not a mile from here on the other side of that forest."

His story, though fascinating, was no longer enough of a distraction from the pain. He'd been working steadily and quickly, but he still wasn't finished, and her tremors were nearly constant now. "Stop," she gasped. "Stop, I need a break…"

His hands paused. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but it will be better to get it over with quickly. Just a few more stiches."

And he kept sewing.

Her breathing became harsh, and she had to force herself not to pull away or shriek. She was now whimpering almost continuously and gasping for breath. This was more than she could take. Still he kept at it, now counting down the stiches. "Four more…alright, now three…two…just one more…"

At last he pulled the thread taut and the wound closed. She had tears in her eyes and was trembling violently, but it still wasn't quite over. "Alright, now a bit more disinfectant and I'll put the gauze on. Then we can head back to base and you can rest."

Again he applied the disinfectant, but now her threshold for pain was so thoroughly depleted that she flinched away. He actually had to hold her still with one hand so he could apply the gauze. She wasn't meaning to move; her body was acting of its own accord, struggling frantically to get away from the pain.

Finally it was done. "Alright, I'm finished. Now let's just get back to base and you can rest."

Nope. Every ounce of her energy had gone into having her injury treated. She simply didn't have an adequate tolerance for pain, given the comfortable and undemanding life she'd lived thus far. Arm limp, she forced herself to her feet, staggered over to her sleeping bag, and dropped onto it face-first. She didn't even bother with the shirt – it was hot enough today that she didn't need it.

Her shoulder hurt too much for her to fall asleep so she drifted uncomfortably on the edge of consciousness. She didn't know what Wilson was doing and she didn't really care. He'd be fine. Her head was throbbing, her eyes burned, and she felt parched and feverish.

The tremors subsided and after a while she felt a hand on her shoulder, compelling her to roll over. She obliged, shifting so she was on her right side, and she her shirt was draped over her chest. That was good. She was spending too much time around this man topless.

She sighed in bliss as a cool, wet towel was draped over her forehead. Her eyes were closed and she didn't bother to open them. She just relaxed, feeling the last of the tension flow out of her muscles.

She slept.


	9. Promises

She probably didn't sleep long. It can't have been more than an hour before her eyes fluttered open. She'd have thought that Wilson would have left her alone to tend to his own interests, but she found him sitting next to her. Her camp pan was by his side, filled with water. He'd been using this to mop her head with a spare cloth she'd had amongst her supplies.

She looked up to him. He was staring straight ahead, gaze distant, hand automatically going through the motion of cooling her. His eyes were dark, his resting face almost brooding. His hair, onyx-black and lustrous, was only slightly disheveled from their early mishap.

Dashing.

She lay there in the late-summer sun staring up at him until he finally glanced down and saw that she was awake. "Feeling better…?" He asked cautiously.

Her heart fell a bit, perhaps in more ways than one. "Yes. I'm sorry about that," she said, referencing her earlier fit. She'd been utterly graceless.

He just wet the cloth and dabbed at her hairline again. "You need to stop apologizing. This world is harsh. You can only be expected to endure so much."

She sighed and sat up, grabbing the shirt to prevent it slipping. He handed her one of her water bottles.

She accepted it, twisting off the cap and drinking slowly but deeply. Once she was hydrated she felt immeasurably better. "I never even asked if you were alright. Were you hurt at all?"

"Not a scratch on me," he replied haughtily. "I've dealt with too many of those beasts to count. There are many ways I've foreseen dying in this dreadful place, but if it's a paltry spider that does me in I'll be too embarrassed to show my face in heaven or hell."

She smiled drowsily, then shook herself awake. "If it's any consolation, if you'd died back there I would have thought it quite a glorious demise. Pardon me while I put the shirt back on?"

"Of course." He stood up and turned around, hands laced politely behind his back while she got dressed.

Once she was decent again she stood, making her way over to her supplies. "That really hurt. But you were right, it was better to get it over with quickly. Thank you, again, for taking such good care of me."

"Not at all. I'm glad to be of service."

Though he really did seem to have gotten away without a scratch, his hair was disheveled and that gave her an idea. She glanced around the area next to her backpack as she looked for a tall green Pringles can. Spotting it, she grabbed it and pried the lid off, dumping the contents into her hand. She always used Pringles cans to carry her brushes and tooth paste and things so they wouldn't get squished or broken in the main pack. She pulled out something she was willing to bet Wilson hadn't seen in a while, and may very well appreciate given how important grooming seemed to be to him.

She stood and said, "I was able to bring quite a few supplies, and I have a few extra things I really don't need. Would you like this?"

She held out a shiny, black, fine-toothed comb. It was a good brand, the kind that wouldn't break easily.

When he caught sight of the offering, his expression became that of a child's on Christmas morning. He actually wiggled his fingers and reached forward tentatively to take the item, which she handed off gladly. He inspected it and his face broke into a wide grin. "Oh, wonderful! You've no idea how challenging it is to replicate such basic articles here. I've been making do with a comb made of whittled-down bone splinters, but this…"

At once he brought it up and ran it through his hair. He was obviously delighted.

She was glad. Turning back to her supplies, she rifled through them until she found was she was looking for – a small signaling mirror in a tough plastic case. She held the mirror out to him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Ah! How long has it been since I've seen my own reflection in anything clearer than a still pond?"

She held it up for him as he used it to style himself, the tip of his tongue just sticking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on his grooming. At last he stood up straight and said, "Perfect! How wonderful to have some proper supplies. You can't imagine how long it's been since my hair was last adequately managed."

"I've been spying on you for the last two weeks and I've never seen you have a bad hair-day. You always look splendid."

The man puffed up like a peacock, and she had to clamp down on her tongue to keep in a bray of laughter, quickly turning to put the mirror away. She'd never met someone so physically expressive in her life.

Tone laced with barely-contained curiosity he asked, "Say, what else do you have here, if I may be so bold?"

Allena found herself quite excited to show him all she had. Having spent two weeks here she knew now how valuable some of these things could be, and she wasn't at all averse to sharing. Actually, she imagined he could put much of what she had to better use than she herself could.

So, she set to showing him. "Well, you saw the water bottles already, and the cooking supplies."

"Yes! What are those bottles made out of, if I might ask?"

She picked one up and handed it to him. "Plastic. I think they had some variety of it in your era, but it wasn't popularized until later. It's a bit like cellophane, but thicker, harder, and more durable."

Recognition. "Cellophane? Indeed! But such high quality…I imagine these were terribly expensive."

She laughed. "Plastic is cheap. I could buy two of these bottles brand-new on an hour's working wage, or ten of them for the same price if I picked up them from a thrift-store."

He whistled. "And the pans? Very light-weight. Aluminium, I assume?"

"An alloy. That's nothing, though. Let me know you my toolkit."

This was what she was really excited to show him, given his inclination towards science. Besides, she had virtually no use for it – she only had it in the first place because she'd been working on the device.

She clicked it open and lifted the lid.

The tools within, all shiny and new, glinted in the bright sunlight. Wrenches, screwdrivers, pliers, clippers, and a dozen more tools that she couldn't even name. The kit even held a power-drill.

She looked over to see his expression. It was priceless. He looked like a man who had been presented with a blank check from a billionaire, or a sack of diamonds. "By that heaven that bends above us," he breathed.

"By that God we both adore," she replied, finishing the quote. She'd memorized The Raven, by Poe, years ago and recognized the line. "It's a basic toolkit. I never really use it for anything other than changing lightbulbs and stuff, but I brought them along to fix the device and they came with me. You're welcome to use them – just take good care of them and return them to the case whenever you're done."

He swallowed heavily, and she realized with a stifled laugh that he was actually salivating. "The things I could accomplish with these…the time I could save, the accuracy I could achieve…"

He picked up the power-drill and she quickly reached out and grabbed it from him. "You'll want to be careful with that. You could put a hole through your hand if you don't know how to use it."

He looked at it with acute interest. "What is it?"

"Let me show you."

She grabbed one of the two fully charged batteries and picked out a screw from the kit. She walked over to a tree, loaded the battery, fixed the screw to the drill, set it against the smooth trunk, and motioned for him to come over. He did so, watching curiously.

She pressed on the trigger and the drill whirred loudly to life, sinking the screw into the wood like a knife into warm butter. She pulled the drill back so he could see.

He actually gasped. Then, wonder of wonders, she reversed the drill and removed the screw with another mechanical whir, handing it to him.

He examined the screw, the trunk of the tree, then the tool. She showed him how it worked. "See that? That's the trigger. Pull that and it'll rotate the screw head. It'll drill right through your finger, though, so be careful when you're using it. This setting will reverse it and let you remove the screw. This is the battery pack – the power."

He looked closely at this. "Ah, of course, an electrical tool. I take it, then, that it will only last for so long?"

She nodded. "Yes. There are two battery packs, and they're pretty small. You won't get a lot of life out of each. But," she added at his dismayed look. "I have a portable solar cell. It generates energy via sunlight, and it's a really high-quality one. So long as we keep it in pristine order, we'll be able to keep recharging the batteries and my other electronics."

He perked up considerably at this. "Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Other electronics, did you say?"

She nodded, but recalled that her phone was still dead and needed to be recharged. "Here, let me show you."

She grabbed the solar charger from where it sat on a raised, flat patch of sunny grass and plucked out the battery, plugging her phone into it. "My phone is dead, but this is what I used to generate those flashes that warded off the shadow last night. It was the camera flash."

"You're telling me that little device functions as a camera? Preposterous."

She laughed. "You wouldn't believe the kind of technology we have in my era. This little thing isn't just a wireless telephone and a camera, it's also a calculator, a flashlight, a word processor, and about two dozen other things. It has games, it stores documents, it can even play music, though I have something else for that."

"A phonograph?"

She reached over and grabbed her iPod. She hadn't used it since arriving. She'd been on constant alert for sounds, too wary of approaching threats to let her guard down even for a minute. She unwound the headphones, turned the volume down, gestured for him to put one earbud in his ears and she flipped to her music collection.

Green Day? No, he didn't seem the type. Enya? Eh, too girly for him. Avenged Sevenfold? No, she didn't have any defibrillators handy.

Frank Sinatra. You couldn't go wrong with Frank Sinatra.

She put the other earbud in her ear, selected My Way, and hit 'play'.

His eyes flew open as the music began to flow, and in moments he was mesmerized.

_And now the end is near,_   
_And so I face the final curtain._   
_My friend, I'll say it clear,_   
_I'll state my case, of which I'm certain…_

She smiled and closed her eyes, allowing the music to wash over her. You couldn't go wrong with Frank Sinatra.

Wilson tensed as much as she relaxed, clearly astounded by the technology in her hand. Phonograph, indeed.

As the song ended she hit pause and tugged the earbud out. "So? Pretty neat, huh?"

"Astounding," he replied, handing the other earbud to her. "I can only imagine what other wonders your era will hold for me when I return."

She put the iPod away and said, "Then you still believe it can be done? That there's a way home, I mean?"

He huffed. "But of course. I got myself here, I'll get myself home again."

His confidence was such that Allena couldn't help feeling encouraged. "If anyone can, I'm sure it will be you," she said.

He looked satisfied with her vote of confidence. "Well, given the advancements I'll be able to make with those tools, I'd say the odds just got quite a bit shorter. Now if you're feeling up to it, perhaps we can head back to base for some lunch? You have blood to replenish, after all."

She walked over and knelt beside her tarp. "I have food here. Not much, but I'd be happy to cook us up a meal, since you covered the last one."

"Very well. We can have some of the rabbit jerky I brought on the side. Shall I start up a fire, or do you have anything pre-cooked?"

"Berries and carrots, enough for the two of us. Would that be alright?"

He sat and said, "Certainly! I ran out of berries a while ago. I'd be happy to taste them again. And carrots are, of course, a staple. I grow them behind my base, among other things."

No doubt they were, here. She dished up the rest of her cooked store and they ate. The rabbit jerky was delicious.

They finished the meal quickly and Wilson said, "Miss Jones, might I ask you a question?"

Miss Jones. How formal. "Yes. You're welcome to call me Allena, though, if you'd prefer."

That seemed to appeal to him. He tested the name out. "Allena. Lovely. Allena, you have a commendable setup here, but if I may be so blunt it won't be very comfortable come winter. If the suggestion isn't too forward, would you be inclined to join me in my own base?"

She blinked. Move in with him? So quickly? They'd only just met the other night.

On the other hand, she was forced to admit that the idea of having some solid walls around her as she slept was very appealing. She hadn't exactly been a nervous wreck, but she'd been sleeping only fitfully since arriving. Her position sorely lacked security. What's more, she'd already offered to lend him her tools and supplies, and that would be far more convenient for both of them if she simply brought everything over to his camp. And also…

She hated being alone all the time.

She'd always been a solitary person, but there was a difference between choosing to forgo social interaction and having no access to it whatsoever. It had been wearing on her badly. As good a companion as her journal had been, it just wasn't anything like the ear of another living human being.

As she thought it over Wilson said, "Please don't feel pressured to respond right away! I'm sure you'll need time to think it over, weigh your options, perhaps contemplate the possibility of constructing a more adequate camp here instead…"

She didn't want to sound needy, but now that she'd come to trust that Wilson wasn't an enemy to her she simply didn't want to go back to living alone. "No. To be honest the isolation has been miserable. It's more refreshing than I could have imagined, being around someone again. And you're right – this camp really won't stand up to a winter season. I would love to move in with you."

His face lit up yet again. "Wonderful! When would you like to move? I could start carrying your things over right now if you'd like?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'll start packing. But I want to be very clear on one thing–"

He ran her over at once. "Though it's been a very long time since I've entertained company, let alone a roommate, I assure you my social graces have not left me, rusty though they may be! I'll be entirely respectful of your boundaries, I'll ensure you have everything you need to live comfortably there, and I wouldn't dream of taking any personal liberties with you."

She watched him gesticulate furiously during his speech, and once again had to suppress a laugh. "Thank you, Wilson. I have no doubt you'll be a perfect gentleman – you've already been one so far. I'm not worried about any of that. I was just going to say that I will absolutely _not_ be a burden to you."

He looked like he was going to continue on his tirade of reassurance, but stopped, a bemused expression on his face.

She continued. "You've made a life for yourself from nothing," she explained. "You've had to fight tooth and nail to make yourself safe and comfortable here. You've had to fend off thieves and monsters, the elements, and goodness knows what else to achieve what you have."

She took a deep breath and proceeded to voice an uncomfortable truth. "Without your help I won't last through the winter. I don't have the expertise, the mindset, or the plain physical strength to make it on my own. I'm injured and inexperienced, and if it wasn't for the supplies I chanced to bring with me I'd have nothing at all of worth to offer you in exchange for your help."

He looked like he wanted to object to this, but she was going to finish having her say. She held up her hand and said, "I'm going to recover as quickly as possible, and then I'm going to do everything in my power to contribute to what you've managed to build, rather than just take advantage of it. I'm going to put in more than I take out. I might need some help getting started, but if you promise to show me the ropes then I promise to be an asset – _not_ a hinderance."

She looked him in the eye as she said this. It wasn't often she made promises – and she never asked them of others – but this world wasn't going to forgive many mistakes. This man was her best chance of surviving here, and her only chance of making it home. It was vital to her that he understood that she wasn't just some helpless damsel in distress or lost little girl…even if that's what she felt like.

He met her gaze, and though he stood at least a head taller than her she got the strange impression that he wasn't looking down on her at all. He mulled over what she'd said and then blinked, bowing slightly at the waist. "I have no doubt that your presence will be anything other than a pleasure and a boon. You face a hard life here, but by my count you've already proven yourself more than equal to the struggles this world will present you with. I'll be happy to share what I've learned with you, and I look forward to a long and mutually beneficial relationship."

She swallowed heavily and nodded. It seemed he had faith in her ability to survive here. Hopefully that would go a ways towards helping her have a bit more faith in herself.

Without further ado, they started packing.


	10. The Blueprint

Evening had come. Two figures sat beside a roaring firepit waiting for their meal to cook. Behind them in an unused corner of the base all of Allena's things sat stacked neatly against the wall. Wilson had carried everything over in just two trips, insisting that his new base-mate take it easy and rest while he did all the heavy lifting.

Allena had been telling him all about the modern world for the last hour. Prior to that she'd gone through most of the stuff she'd brought with her, each and every one delighting Wilson more than the last.

"So you can store entire books on a device as small as a paperback novel?"

"Yup," Allena responded. "I didn't bring it with me but when we get home you're welcome to use it."

His eyes flashed with longing and she imagined he was considering all the different subjects he'd like to pursue. "What sorts of books do you have on it?"

She tapped the side of her head as she racked her memory. "Mostly fiction. Some classics, but mostly modern stuff. Horror, fantasy, sci-fi. I do have a few interesting books on psychology and some political commentary."

"Classical fiction? Horror? Political commentary? Goodness, most of the women I knew stuck primarily to silly romances."

She laughed. "Oh, yeah, there are still plenty of those around. I'd say romance never appealed to me, but to be fair I've never even given the genre a try. I might like it if I gave it a shot, but honestly…a couple of people gazing longingly into each other's eyes?" She clasped her hands over her heart and put on a simpering expression, then dropped with it a noise of mild impatience. "I'll stick to dinosaurs and monsters and crazy technology that threatens to wipe out the human race, thank you very much."

Wilson's mouth quirked up into a smile. "You'll have to introduce me to some of your favorites. I've never had much time for fiction, but perhaps I, too, would like it if I 'gave it a shot'."

She thought he would. "I'll introduce you to Michael Crichton. I think you'll love him. Lots of stuff about the hubris of scientists and whatnot."

"Hubris of scientists? No idea what you're talking about."

She laughed. She truly couldn't wait to show Wilson everything the modern world had to offer. Nothing daunted him, nothing intimidated him. Everything was an opportunity.

"So," Allena said, turning to more practical matters. "I don't think I'll be able to do much strenuous work until my injury heals, but I can definitely help with some things. Maybe I can spend tomorrow crafting tools or weaving rope? Does your spider silk need spinning? Oh, I'd love to learn how to craft those snares. Maybe you could show me how?"

At the mention of snares Wilson coughed, nearly spilling the cup of water he'd just raised to his lips. "Ah, yes, the snares. You were trying to figure them out yesterday when I first saw you, yes? I saw the notes you were making."

Allena winced at the fiasco. "Yeah. I didn't get very far."

Wilson's jaw clenched as though he were trying to hold back a laugh – then released as it became a bit too much to contain. "Heh…hehehe! I'm sorry, but when you planted your hand in the snare…that was the funniest thing I'd seen since arriving here! He! Hehehehehe!"

His laughter sounded strange, as though he were unaccustomed to mirth, but it was clearly genuine. Allena rolled her eyes, shoving down a chuckle of her own. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You're lucky I didn't have my knife with me at the time, or that trap of yours would have been so much sliced up grass."

"Yes, and no doubt you'd have punched a few holes in me had I tried to offer you my hand. I do apologize for startling you."

She shrugged. "It's fine. It all worked out for the better, anyways. Say, if you don't mind my asking, what do all of your machines do? And what sorts of things do you study here?" She'd been studying his lab out of the corner of her eye throughout their conversation, but was still at a loss as to the functions of his many devices.

He grabbed a spoon and stirred the large iron pot in front of them. Stew for dinner that night, and likely for breakfast tomorrow. He pointed to one of his creations. "That machine spins silk." He pointed to another. "That one breaks objects down into their primary components so that I may better understand some of the substances and devices I come across, and therefore discover new ways in which I may combine their constituent materials. The alchemy engine," he said while gesturing to yet another machine, this one bulbous and round, "is a bit more complicated, but suffice to say it aids me in more challenging pursuits. As for what I study, I could go into great detail – and no doubt I shall, in time. For now, however, suffice to say I have but two fields of study. The art of survival and the understanding of the forces that brought me here."

Allena nodded. "I see. I doubt I'll be able to offer much help on that front, but I'd be happy to help with maintenance and gathering once I recover. If I can take over some of the menial, day-to-day tasks perhaps you can spend more time and energy on your research?"

His eyes wandered away from his machines and across his tool racks and baskets of materials. "Ah, help with the menial tasks? That…well, yes, that would certainly be nice." He started lightly snapping his fingers. "It does require most of my time and energy simply to keep this base safe and comfortable. It can be rather discouraging, exhausting every ounce of time and energy just to avoid falling behind. Sometimes I finish the day's work with plenty of time for research and simply not enough energy to make any headway."

She nodded sympathetically. "That must be rough. A genius with no time to think."

He sighed. "Quite. Oh, how nice it will be to be in the modern world again. Yes, it's settled. We'll give your injury a few days to heal, then I'll show you around the daily chores, yes?"

She shifted her aching shoulder and pain flared up again. "Sure, but do you really think it will only take a few days? I know your treatment of me was really excellent, but injuries like that take time, don't they? Not to mention the blood loss."

Wilson stirred the pot, tested the meat, and pulled out some bowls and spoons. Looked like dinner was done. "Things work a bit differently here. Salves and poultices have nearly preternatural healing properties. Even torn muscles and fractured bones heal rapidly if you only take the time to treat them."

He dished them up some stew, giving Allena a particularly large bowl. She responded to his comment offhandedly. "Huh. Maybe the powers that be consider recovery-time boring. Want us to either die or get right back to the struggle. Thank you for the stew. It smells amazing."

He blew on a spoonful and took a small sip. He looked pleased. "Ah, I think I did well on this batch. Yes, I've gotten the sense that whatever the entity that brought us to this place – presumably Maxwell – its primary concern is its own entertainment. This place has a somewhat…crafted feel, yes?"

She took a sip of her own stew. It tasted as good as it smelled. "You mean the fact that people tend to start out in areas that give them a leg up, that the landscape looks like a jigsaw puzzle, and that islands can apparently appear on the basis of convenience? Nah, no idea what you're talking about."

He chuckled again. "Well, that's what I've been working on. Thus far my studies are someone stunted due to my lack of Nightmare Fuel."

She tilted her head. "Of…what?"

"Nightmare Fuel," he responded as he took a long sip of soup.

"You're short on nightmare fuel? Sorry, I don't have any, but I have plenty of elbow grease."

He shook his head. "No, no. Nightmare Fuel is what the shadows are made of. You were acquainted with the worst of them last night."

She shivered. "You mean that thing that…oh!"

She'd just remembered – her phone would be charged by then. She'd be able to see what exactly she'd snapped pictures of, if anything. She hopped up and went over to her solar battery. "When I was running I used the flash on my phone to fend off that thing. I may have gotten some pictures."

He shook his head again. "I sincerely doubt it. I image that shadow is much like the others here. Nebulous. They only appear when one's mind is frayed and the spirit is low and hopeless. I've been in a few such situations before, and it wasn't pretty. I managed to harvest a fair bit of their remnants, but it all went into creating the devices I now use to study and refine the Fuel further. But I'm out, and I have no intention of actively seeking out more…is that the camera you told me about?"

He raised an eyebrow, still skeptical, as she detached her phone from the battery. Before she pulled up her pictures she snapped one of his expression, which was highly amusing. She turned the phone around to show him the image.

His eyebrows, already raised, shot up even higher. "Good heavens! It _is_ a camera, isn't it? Still, I doubt you got any viable pictures of the Shadow, though we can check if you'd like."  
She nodded. Crossing her fingers, she swiped back to view the previous picture.

Her brows furrowed, as did Wilson's. The imagine in the photo was badly blurred and mostly black, but there was a color there that she hadn't been expecting. A light, pale peach.  
The color of human skin.

Wilson's mouth dropped open. "Is that…?"

She swiped back again. This time it was clearer – a definite human form, clad in black but with a definite face, still too blurred for good recognition.

They glanced at each other and she swiped back one more time.

This picture was almost perfect. A woman lunging out of the darkness, arms thrown back like some absurd anime character. Her entire body was jet-black, as was her short hair, but her face was unmistakably human, mouth split in a wide grin. Except for the eyes. They 'whites' of her eyes were black as pitch, broken only by glowing snake-slit pupils.

She whistled. "So. That's the, uh…monster that stalks the night here, huh?"

Wilson looked baffled. "That can't be right! I was envisioning some hulking, clawed shadow-beast like the other ones!"

She clicked the phone off to save battery power. "Um. Sorry?"

"The ones that show up when you start to go insane."

She swallowed heavily. "Man, you're really going to have to fill me in on what this world has to offer."

"In time," he said as he set his bowl aside to ponder their newest discovery. "How strange. I'd assumed that all of the shadows were simply inhuman monstrosities, perhaps the nightmarish craft of Maxwell himself. But for one to be human, at least in part…perhaps she's related in some way to Maxwell?"

Allena looked at the picture again. The woman was rather pretty aside from the homicidal gleam in her snake-eyes. She had really cute dimples. "I don't know. Maybe we can ask him the next time we see him. How often does he pop in?"

Wilson snorted. "I've seen him perhaps twice since I came here, excluding his gracious welcome to the world. Honestly. 'Hey pal, you don't look so good…' The insufferable…!"

Allena took a large gulp of stew and almost choked. Too hot. She chugged some water and cleared her throat. "So he's not very interested in us, huh?"

Wilson picked up his bowl again, poking at the stew with his spoon. "Oh, no, I think he is. He just doesn't like to show it. I get the odd feeling that he's looking for someone, or something. Perhaps waiting for one of us to…I don't know. Accomplish something other than survival. From what I heard from the other survivors he doesn't check up on anyone but me. Some people didn't even know his name, and a few of them he didn't even bother to greet."

"Wow. So what makes you different?"

Wilson sniffed haughtily. "Well, I'm a genius, aren't I? And likely the most accomplished survivor here. I'm surprised he doesn't drop in on me for tea every week. Not that I'd humor him if he did, the bastard."

At once he blushed and covered his mouth politely. "Pardon the language."

She snorted her soup. "Uh, oh. If that's what you consider rough language then you're in for an unpleasant surprise when you get back."

"I take it profanity is somewhat more common?"

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe."

They continued to chat as they ate their stew and the stars came out above their heads. Allena finished her bowl and, during a lull in the conversation, leaned back off of her seat and propped herself up on her uninjured arm. She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. "You know, this place may be dangerous, but it sure it beautiful. The stars here are incredible."

"Quite. Still, each time I look up I long for the night I'll see Orion, Cassiopeia, Ursa Major…I miss our own constellations."

She looked back at him. "I take it this sky doesn't have any of ours?"

He shook his head sadly and looked down at the fire.

Allena sat up and pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face. Though he clearly wasn't the type of man to wallow in self-pity, she could hear the weight of his incarceration place a somewhat heavier tone on his voice.

Her heart skipped a beat. On an impulse she stood, walking around the fire and sitting down beside him. Then she laid down carefully on her back. "You know, if this world doesn't have any constellations, maybe we could make a few of our own?"

He turned to her, tilting his head slightly. "Make our own?"

She nodded and looked back up at the sky, eyes darting around the bright pinpoints of light.

He was still for a moment. Then, slowly, he leaned back and laid down beside her. He was very close. Her attention to the stars wavered slightly as his arm brushed hers. "Well, I've noticed that there is something of a north star…perhaps we could start there?"

"Point it out to me."

He did so, and before long they were busy at work tracing constellations.

"Oh, that cluster of stars there looks like spider's eyes. And I can almost make out all the legs, can't you?"

"Where – next to the north star?"

"A bit below that."

"Ah, I see it! And over on the other side, look at that pillar of stars snaking up – like one of those tentacle monsters."

"Heh, indeed. I'll have to take care of that thing this week, they're quite the nuisance. Ah, look there – two eyes, the body, a bright fluffy tail and the prongs above the eyes – a rabbit!"

"That's right, the rabbits have antlers here. We call that a jackalope back home."

She wasn't sure how long they laid there tracing out constellations wherever their imaginations suggested a familiar shape, but before too long her lids were drooping and her yawns were becoming more frequent.

"Hmm, that one looks like…oh, dear, perhaps it's time for bed."

Her eyes had closed, and she blinked them open. "No, I'm f-f-f-fine," she said, voice haltered by her yawn.

"Nonsense," he said while sitting up. "You need your rest."

He sat up and offered her a black-gloved hand. She took it and he lifted her lightly to her feet, arm wrapping around her waist to steady her as she stood shakily. He led her to her sleeping bag, which he had set up beneath a makeshift lean-to in the corner near his tent. "Your sleeping bag will keep you warm, yes? It has started to cool off these last few nights."

She unzipped her bag and kicked off her shoes. "It'll be fine. It's really high quality. If anything, I've gotten too warm at times."

"Well, you won't have that problem come winter. And winter is coming, make no mistake."

She snuggled up in the bag, shifting to ensure her shoulder wasn't bothered. "Does it snow here?"

"Yes, ten feet deep! And the frogs freeze solid, the stew turns to ice the moment it's off the fire, the rabbits go white, the beefalo shiver…"

Ugh. His tone may have been jesting, but she wasn't laughing. She'd always hated the cold. Well, at least she'd mostly prepared for it. "Sounds lovely," she said drily. "Night, Wilson."

He chuckled. "Goodnight. Sleep well, and let me know if you require anything."

She watched from her bag as he tidied up their dishes, stocked the fire, and retired to his tent, glancing over at her one last time and nodding deeply when he saw she was watching.

She considered her new circumstance as she drifted off into unconsciousness. Solid walls at her back, a bright and well-kept fire to ward off the shadows, abundance and variety of food…

And Wilson.

Her mouth turned up in a slight smile. For the first time since arriving she fell asleep with nothing but bright anticipation for the day to come.

* * *

Wilson was right – the healing salves did wonders for her injury.

It took only two days of regular applications of the spider-gland salve for the wound to close up. The injury still stung, but it was no longer debilitating. Once the injury was healed Wilson set to showing her the ropes in earnest.

"You're already quite good at weaving basic ropes, but let me show you how to do the thinner ones for the snares. Look, I use small amounts of this glue to make sure the weave is particularly strong in spite of its thinness. Don't worry, I have plenty of that, it's really quite easy to make…"

Wilson was finally showing her how the snares were made. He'd picked up the notes she'd dropped on their first encounter, and had just returned them to her. "Do you use the glue to make normal ropes?"

  
"No," he replied as he finished the weave on the snare-rope. "Well, occasionally yes, but not for basic things like tools and such. A long, thick, reinforced rope is one of the things on my to-do list, but it just isn't feasible at the moment. Enough grass, not enough time. Perhaps next spring, though."

He pointed with his thumb to a list on the wall above one of his workbenches. She'd noticed it before, but hadn't known what it was. On it was a list of things he evidently wanted to procure or accomplish.

  
_Regular honey access – beekeeper's hat?_

_Waterproof bag – frog skin? Glue?_

_Rope, 7m, reinforced._

_Nightmare Fuel. Rabbits, low sanity. Creepy flowers?_

And a few other things that she understood even less than the last one. She took a keen interest in that board, and wondered if she might be able to manage one of them for him.

Over the next week Wilson showed her everything that needed doing, and she took over all of the basic resource gathering. Well, almost all of it.

Wilson pulled a spear off the wall and slung it across his back. "I'm off. Although silk is one of the few resources that are easy to come by in winter I still want to stock up. Glands, too. I imagine we can expect twice as many injuries this winter, at least."

She sat on her sleeping bag with a selection of flint, sticks, and rope beside her. "Are you sure you don't want me coming with you? I'd be happy to learn how to kill spiders."

Lie. She did not want to go anywhere near them. Wilson, thankfully, was chivalrous in the extreme and refused to even entertain the thought of having her march off to fight monsters. "I'll teach you some basic defense once your shoulder is one-hundred percent healed, but leave the spiders and beefalo to me."

She had no problem accepting the judgement. As far as she was concerned, giant spiders and stampeding, horned beasts were best left to strong men with pointy sticks. "Alright, have fun. Bring me back a trophy commemorating your glorious hunt."

"Hrmph. Glorious hunt, indeed. Spiders are hardly worth the time, my dear. I'll bring you back a necklace of hound's teeth, or a tallbird eye sometime. Something more worthy of a mighty hunter such as myself!"

He bowed deeply and departed, leaving her grinning in his wake. She no longer feared his jaunts into the forest. She'd seen him dispatch the tentacle beast the other day without getting a scratch on him and had been quite in awe of his skill and agility. She'd told him as much, heaping praises on him all the way back to camp and pressing him for stories of past hunts and fights all evening by the fire, which he'd happily obliged. He'd practically been glowing ever since.

A while later she tied off the last knot on the last tool – a pickaxe – and walked over to place her creations on the tool shelf. Wilson always needed more pickaxes – they wore down quickly and he needed a lot of stone to maintain and improve upon his base. Their base.

She set it beside the others and pondered what to do next. Wilson would be an hour or two getting silk and glands and she'd finished all of the basic chores for that day. It was late afternoon and he'd told her to take the rest of the day off and do as she pleased. They would need to hunker down and work hard during fall to prepare for winter, but they still had a bit of time to relax and enjoy the last vestiges of summer. She was glad – the world, for all its difficulties, was beautiful and she was enjoying exploring it.

As she turned from the tool shelf she saw Wilson's extra spear on the wall. He'd made it only recently in anticipation of teaching her basic defense, but she hadn't even touched it yet. Now she walked over and picked it up, twirling it in her hands. She'd done a bit of baton-twirling in her high-school marching band, and she found the skills translated fairly well to the spear once she got used to the weight of the spearhead. She twisted it and twirled it, jabbing the air experimentally a few times.

As she looked at it she recalled that, of all the delicacies Wilson had shared with her so far, she had not seen frog legs on the menu. He'd mentioned that he'd never had much to do with the frogs besides testing their skin for crafting quality. It wasn't very good.

She was suddenly filled with ambition. As much as Wilson expressed appreciation at her helping with day-to-day tasks – and he lauded her for her help as much as she did for his combat skills – she wanted to bring something new to the table.

She decided she would chance the frogs. With the tentacle gone she wouldn't have much to worry about, she was sure.

She grabbed some supplies and a fishing pack and headed towards the swamp. Soon she stood on the edge of it, the neat line of grass giving way to squishy, murky-brown soil just an inch before her toes. She set her pack down and gripped her spear tighter as she eyed the amphibious cretins before her.

Like the spiders, they were about the size of dogs. Their back legs were thick and powerful, and Allena suspected they would provide a wonderfully meaty meal. She wasn't sure when her mouth had started to water every time she looked at animals, but it hadn't taken very long.

She waited a short while, picking out a good target. Wilson had told her how important it was to make a choice and stick to it, because other members of a pack, herd, or swarm were apt to attempt to draw your attention away from your quarry and make you lose them all.

She picked one out. It had an unusually short tongue and particularly thick legs. It was right near the edge of the swamp, too.

She'd already thought about how she would tackle them, and had made her decision. Gripping her spear tightly she waited until the frog hopped just a bit farther from its pond…and ran at it full tilt, spear ready for a downward thrust.

It turned towards her just as she reached it, and readied for a tongue lash. She thrust down with all her might at its head…

…and the spear bounced right off, leaving the frog more or less unscathed.

She hopped to the side just as the tongue shot out, and drew back her spear. The rebound had caused a bad twinge in her shoulder, but nothing serious. Alright, if the head was too well protected, she'd have to go for a softer target. The eyes? The belly?

She decided on the eyes first. The toad let out a deep, rumbling croak after its tongue settled back into its mouth following its missed attack, and Allena took the opportunity to lunge again. This time the spear sank a couple of inches, eliciting a deeper, angry croak. Again its tongue shot out, and again Allena dodged out of the way, withdrawing the spear.

The toad hopped forward suddenly, almost overbalancing her, and she realized that she may have bitten off more than she could chew. Not only was the toad proving difficult to kill…the croaks seemed to have riled all of its friends.

They were bounding steadily towards her, one leap at a time. She had time enough for one more jab at the very most before they reached her.

She gritted her teeth and thrust the spear out once more. This time she didn't bother with the head, but instead tried the underbelly and prayed it was softer than the back hide.

It was. A single slash and the toad's entrails popped out like stuffing from a teddy bear. It was revolting, and it sprayed a fine mist of foul green slime as it died. She leaped backwards and fled.

She felt the sharp jab of a tongue on her back, but other than that she escaped unscathed. The toads wouldn't follow her far onto the grassland. Once they were gone she would return, drag the dead toad out of the swamp, and butcher it.

Sure enough the toads left off quickly, uninterested in vengeance for their fallen amphibious friend. As she stopped and turned about she found she was breathing hard and trembling in exhilaration. Maybe it wasn't a giant spider, but it was the first real kill she'd made aside from fish.

The frogs calmed down quickly and Allena jogged back to the swamp, grabbed the toad, and dragged it onto the grass as one or two of its comrades eyed her angrily. At least they seemed angry. They may have just been hungry. She was pretty sure toads were cannibals. 

The toad had flopped onto its belly which made it easy to gut. She quickly removed the entrails and began sawing at the legs, hoping they weren't too grisly or bony.

She pulled one off, examined it, and smiled widely. It looked amazing. A single frog would be enough to tide her over for a meal, though Wilson would probably be able to eat four or five legs all by himself.

She eyed the frogs back and decided that now that she knew how to kill them, and if she was careful, she may at least be able to get two or three more before Wilson was due back.

She nodded to herself, picked up her spear, and started scouting out another target.

* * *

A couple hours later Allena was back at base. She saw movement at the entrance and looked up from the fire to see Wilson strolling back into camp. His eyes sought her out immediately and widened as he saw that she already had dinner on the griddle. "Ah! Wonderful, I'm starving! I don't suppose…wait…what is that you're cooking there?"

His peered curiously at the crooked chunks of meat. She answered nervously, trepid of his reaction. "Frog legs. I'm not sure if they're any good, but I've tried them back home and they're delicious. I thought we might give them a try here. That's why I started cooking early, so we can make something else if it doesn't pan out…"

He set his spear beside her own on the wall. "What? Frog legs? Where did you get them?"

She cleared her throat as she turned one of the legs. "I thought I would give that spear a try and went out and hunted them myself." She'd grown increasingly worried that he would flip out when she told him about her solo-hunting trip, so she found herself stammering out an explanation in an attempt to tone the story down a bit. "I mean, you know them, they're not very fast, and I've had experience with them before, while fishing, you know? And I was very careful not to let myself get surrounded, I stayed on the outside, they got in a couple of licks but nothing serious, it'll just be a few bruises, and my shoulder is fine."

She took a deep breath to go on, but before she could Wilson came over and sat down to examine the legs. "You killed these? All on your own? And look at this! Eight legs, four frogs! I must admit, I hadn't taken you for a huntress, but…"

He leaned forward and sniffed them. At once he swallowed. "Oh, my. Those smell…rather tantalizing. I have heard they're a delicacy in some cultures, though it never crossed my mind to try them myself..."

His eyes rolled back and closed as he took a deep whiff of the sizzling legs. Allena had been rather encouraged by the smell as well, and was now doubly so. It seemed Wilson wasn't upset. "Yeah, I have high hopes. So, did your spider hunt go well?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, fine! Not as much silk as I'd have hoped but plenty of glands. That's the important thing. What about you? You're quite certain you're alright? Tell me, did you figure out to hit their bellies?"

She nodded and, thrilled that he was so eager to hear about her experience, told him all about it as the spoils of her hunt grilled over the open flame.

He listened raptly, occasionally asking questions and wincing when she described getting hit. Overall he was a splendid audience. When she finished the story he brought his hands together and started clapping excitedly. "Oh, wonderful! Stupendous! Here I thought I was lucky enough just to have some pleasing company. Doubly lucky to have access to the treasury of tools you brought along. Triply so to discover that you possessed at least basic survival skills, enough to help me with my chores. But such initiative, such vivacity! You are truly a credit to your gender, Miss Jones. Tell me, are all the women in your time such impressive specimens?"

She covered her face and started bubbling with laughter. "I've never been considered a terribly impressive specimen back home, so I really couldn't tell you. A credit to my gender, though. Wow. That is…quite a compliment."

She once again chirruped with laughter and Wilson looked a bit concerned. "I haven't said anything wrong, have I?"

She reached out to start turning the legs on their roasting sticks as she replied. "I suppose it depends on who you ask. I know there are some women back home who would probably be offended by that compliment. Don't worry," she said hastily as a dismayed looked crossed his face. "I'm not one of them. Really, consider me flattered."

He opened his mouth as though to say something but closed it again. He stared into the fire for a while before shaking his head. "Hm. I wonder how much I'll have to learn to fit in properly to your society. No doubt social standards have changed quite a bit."

"Yeah," she said. "Did you know we got the right to vote?"

"That passed?! Good heavens, that was going through the senate when I left, I always wondered whether it got through. They amended the constitution for it, yes?"

"Yup."

"Huh! No wonder you're interested in politics. Tell me, are you lot allowed to run for public office as well?"

She chortled and began filling him in on a bit of the modern political climate as she finished turning the frog legs.

Half an hour later they were holding the legs in front of them and examining them cautiously. Wilson poked at his a few times. "It smells so good. I truly hope it doesn't take after spider meat."

"Or poison us," Allena added with forced cheer as she looked at her own leg.

Finally Wilson sighed, took a deep breath, and bit into the steaming leg.

Allena's stomach dropped as his eyes popped open and he began to chew very, very slowly. The look on his face certainly suggested some sort of extreme input.

"This is…" he swallowed properly and looked the leg over again. Then he smiled widely. "This is delicious! Good heavens, I've had these hopping about on my doorstep for two years and I never even thought to taste them! They're wonderful! Oh, I must see if I can jerkify these! Frog-leg jerky all winter! Delightful!"

Surprised but pleased, Allena dug into her own leg. Sure enough, it was the best frog leg she'd ever had. "Wow, these are good."

She finished hers and had two more, but insisted that Wilson eat the rest. "Really, I'm stuffed. Enjoy."

He didn't take much convincing. Not long after, bones and tendons lay discarded by the firepit and they laid back to pat their stomachs as the sun began to lower outside the base.

Just as Allena was starting to relax Wilson sat up suddenly and said, "Say, would you like to go watch the sunset? I don't have the time to very often, but it's really quite a treat. So long as you have a torch handy for when the sun actually _sets,_ that is."

She sat up and looked at him. It was really a simple request, just a casual stroll and a nice view; still, she didn't have to read all those gushy love stories to know that sunsets held certain romantic connotations.

She shook herself. Wilson was clearly not interested in her that way. It was a friendly suggestion, nothing more. "Yeah, that sounds nice. Let's go."

She hopped up and grabbed her flashlight in addition to Wilson's torch. Happily, the flashlight was also compatible with her solar battery and would therefore last as long as the solar panel.

They set out towards the ridge. Allena pointed out the piles of frog remains on their way in case Wilson wanted to go over them tomorrow for usable materials.

They got to the ridge that marked the end of the landmass. Allena picked out a comfortable spot and sat down on the grass, dangling her feet over the edge. Her heels bumped the rocky siding and she looked down at the tide beneath her. It roiled calmly against the stone a few feet below her toes, and she saw nothing of interest in the clear, dark water.

Wilson sat down beside her. She was vaguely surprised at how close – they were only a couple of inches apart. She knew that the concept of personal space differed based on era and culture. Perhaps people from his era were simply accustomed to narrower boundaries.

She found she didn't mind. Her pulse sped up a bit, though.

_Oh, calm down. It's just a sunset._

They were silent for several minutes. Eventually the sun began to fall beneath the horizon before them, turning the clouds pink and gold. Suddenly, he spoke. "It really is nice here, isn't it?"

"Mhmm," she hummed in response. They'd leaned back to brace themselves on their hands, and she was very aware of the fact that his fingers were less than an inch from her own.

_Stop it!_

"I mean," he continued. "I haven't really gotten much of a chance to appreciate the beauty of this place. I've started to notice it a bit more, though, just recently."

She made another noise of simple acknowledgement, too lost in her own thoughts. _He only means that he has more time to spend enjoying it, what with all the chores you've been helping with. What did you think he meant…?_

He coughed slightly. "I suppose this world does have some definite upsides. Good food, abundant resources, m-many lovely sights. This place really did seem to be designed with the blueprints of human survival in mind–"

_Blueprints…?_

"–and in spite of the things I've endured these last few years I really don't have entirely too much to complain about. Especially now. I mean, I of course can't wait to get home, but–"

_!!!_

She jumped up just as the sun dipped below the horizon. "Oh! Oh, my goodness, Wilson, I've just remembered, I can't believe I forgot–"

He scrambled to his feet after her as she turned to head back to base. "What? What is it?"

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She'd recalled something he'd said in passing during their first real conversation.

_…he shoved a bundle of raw information into my head – all sadly gone now, it seemed to leak away within days of my arrival and I retained no records of it…_

She hurried back to camp, Wilson close beside her pressing her for the reason for her sudden excitement, but she said nothing until she reached her backpack. She unzipped the main compartment pushed a few things out of the way, and found what she was looking for. Her fingers wrapped along a long, narrow tube. She tugged this out and popped the top off of it.

As she shook the papers out of the tube she said, "I grabbed this out of one of the old filing cabinets in the archives before I left. I thought it might help me understand your machine better, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. You said you lost all the information Maxwell gave you, and I wonder if this might be at all helpful…"

She unfurled the blueprints to his device and held them out to him. He took them, peering at them closely in the fading light, and Allena pulled out her flashlight and shone the beam on the detailed schematics.

Wilson gasped, and his hands shook slightly. He steadied them and said, "The blueprints to my device…? To the gateway I made…?"

She nodded. "You also had a journal, I think, but that was sold to a private collector way out of state. We had scanned copies, but they weren't readily accessible."

She realized that his breathing was shaky, and a spark of concern overtook her excitement. "Wilson? Are you okay?"

"Okay? Am I okay? This…"

He took a deep breath, and when he turned to her he was beaming. "With these blueprints I'll be able to reconstruct the gateway that brought us here. Even if it doesn't take us straight home I'll be able to use it as the basis for further research, I'll be able to refine this art and technology, to further my understanding of it by leaps and bounds! Oh, how I've longed for something like this! And you…"

His hand came up suddenly, almost impulsively, to the side of her head. She felt his fingers twine themselves slightly in her hair. The simple contact was enough to halt her breath.

He looked her in the eye and she could see hope glowing there, and excitement and fierce determination and –

His face colored. He withdrew his hand and cleared his throat slightly. "Ah, well, it may take some time to make use of these notes. To be sure I won't be able to do anything until winter is over. We'll need to put all of our energy into stocking up for it this fall, but as soon as I'm able I'll get straight to work reconstructing the device. Mark my words, this is the beginning of the end of our imprisonment here. I _will_ get us home."

She blinked slowly and swallowed hard. "Y-y-yeah. I mean, I know you will. Like I said, if anyone can do it, it'll be you. Wilson Percival Higgsbury. Gentleman scientist, survivor extraordinaire, master and tamer – and escaper – of this vile wilderness," she said, adding on to his own grandiose self-description.

"You are too kind. Now, the first thing I must do it make a copy of this. I don't want to risk it being lost to us…"

Allena pulled out her phone. "Here, told it out. I'll take a few pictures."

"Ah!" He exclaimed. "Of course! An excellent idea. I always seem to forget about your little technological wonders. I'll also want another physical copy, but the pictures will serve as an emergency backup."

He straightened out the papers and Allena turned her camera flash on. She took half a dozen closeups of each page to make sure she had every detail, then they rolled the schematics up and returned them to their tube.

It was almost properly dark by then. The fire was out, and Wilson's torch would be going the same way soon. "Hold on, I'll start the fire back up," she said. She'd noticed that the days were absolutely getting shorter, and the nights were getting chillier. Winter was on its way. "Maybe you could tell me what you normally do to prepare for winter? I guess we'll want to get on that soon."

He nodded as she heaped logs onto the fire and stacked some kindling against them. Mere moments later they had a decent blaze, building in intensity, and he sat down with a thoughtful look. "Yes, I suppose we will. Well, normally I prepare for winter by drying plenty of rations. Rabbits and beefalo mostly, but I'm going to give frogs a try as well now. I think tomorrow will be a good time for a beefalo hunt."

"Perhaps I could spend the morning taking care of the rabbit traps, then hunt up more frogs in the afternoon?"

He shook his head. "I'll be filling the drying racks with beefalo soon enough. Check the rabbits, but leave frogs for another day. We'll have our hands full."

She nodded. "Alright. What else should I hop on? Do you need any other extra supplies? Sticks, grass, wood?"

"Sticks and grass are always welcome, but leave lumber to me. I already have a decent store, but I will certainly want to stock up a bit more. I'll also need more rocks to make a couple of thermal stones for you, but again, that's something I can manage."

She'd run over and grabbed her journal to begin taking notes. Grass, sticks, rocks, check. "Alright. Anything else I can grab tomorrow if I run out of grass and sticks?"

He prodded the fire, eliciting a puff of sparks. "Oh, yes, actually! Come to think of it, could you gather some pinecones? My store is almost completely depleted."

Huh. Pinecones. She knew pine nuts were edible, but she hadn't seen any on the menu so far. But if his store was almost depleted, maybe that was why. "Yeah, sure thing." To be honest she didn't want to chance the forest for them, but she wasn't about to shirk a job just because she was afraid of a few spiders. "Oh, what will you want for dinner tomorrow? Fish, frogs, rabbit?"

"Mmm. Surprise me. You really have a knack for cooking. It took me two years to learn how to make decent food, you know. Used to be I would just jam whatever I had on a stick and roast it for a while…if I bothered to cook it at all. Raw meat…" he made a face. "I'll leave it to the French, I think."

Allena laughed. "Yeah. Although I have to say, raw fish is a delicacy back home. Sushi is very popular nowadays."

"Sushi? What is that?"

They spent the rest of the evening discussing the various culinary wonders he had to look forward to when they got home, and by the time they were ready for bed they were both practically salivating in spite of their full stomachs.

"My goodness. Some of those meals sound positively dreadful, but I must admit I'm quite excited to try the Mexican cuisine. The Italian, too. And I'm certainly curious about this 'sushi' of yours. Raw fish does not sound appealing to me, but the way you go on about it…"

She licked her lips. "Tuna, salmon, red snapper…avocado, tobiko, wasabi, all those special sauces…maybe I'll see if I can't whip up something similar here. It really would be a treat."

He shrugged. "Well, we at least have plenty of tuna here. And there are a few varieties of wild rice that will suffice. Seaweed can usually be found just off the coast and drawn in if you're lucky. Horseradish grows a short ways away, but I've never picked it. Can't stand the stuff. As for salmon, you'll have to see if there are any schools along the coast. I haven't seen any, but you never know. Oh, and if this world has a variety of red snapper, you'll want to avoid it. Trust me. Anything with 'snapper' in its name is apt to be unpleasant here."

Shortly after their conversation they stocked the fire back up and retired to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day for both of them.


	11. Contact

Wilson had left to bag himself a beefalo and told her he would likely be back sometime in the afternoon. Allena had made him breakfast and packed him some lunch before he'd left, wished him luck, then set out to take care of her own chores.

She'd checked the rabbit traps. Four of them had been sprung, though only two had contained rabbits. She'd dealt with these and reset the traps, bringing the rabbits back for Wilson to deal with later. She hadn't learned how to dress them and didn't want to risk wasting the meat or skins doing it herself. Hopefully she'd get more before nightfall.

Once the traps were reset she'd grabbed an empty backpack and gone over to the island to discover something disconcerting – the full moon was drawing close, and the sea-level had risen just over the lip of the ridge around the island. Water sloshed over the low ridge with every swell. The result was that it was starting to flood, and would very possibly be a six feet underwater in a few days.

For the moment the water was only a few inches deep and just around the edges, a pool of dry land more or less in the middle. It was actually quite a strange and beautiful sight. Still, she recognized that any resources the island may have had would no doubt be drowned out fairly soon, so she went into overdrive all day scrounging every usable stick and blade of grass she could get her hands on.

To her delight she saw that the rabbits had been flooded out of their holes and were badly impeded by the water – three inches was enough that they practically had to wade – so once she was done gathering grass and sticks she went back to base, grabbed Wilson's pigskin backpack and her spear, and spent about two hours running around stabbing waterlogged rabbits. So much for the snares!

  
By the time she had exhausted the rabbits she saw that it was well past noon. Wilson would be back soon, if he hadn't returned already. She headed back to base.

When she arrived she looked around. No spear. No beefalo. No Wilson.

That was fine. She unpacked the rabbits, setting them by the butchering table, and sorted out the supplies. Once done she pondered what to do next. She was dead tired – she'd only taken a short break for lunch a couple of hours ago – and she wanted to relax for a while. She still needed to collect pinecones, but perhaps that could wait until Wilson got back. She'd like to be home to greet him anyways, and to make sure he wasn't injured.

As she looked around the camp wondering when Wilson would be back she was gripped with a sudden desire to do something nice for him. He'd be coming home from a day of work at least as hard as hers had been, if not harder, and she thought he deserved to come back to something nice.

She went over to her backpack and reached in, pulling out a pleasant find she'd made earlier. A couple of berry bushes that had escaped her and Wilson's notice. She'd filled an entire water bottle with the berries.

She flipped through her mental reservoirs for culinary inspiration, napping her fingers when she came across the perfect idea. Wilson had a large store of beefalo-milk butter that he said he used for treats from time to time. He'd told her to help herself if she took a fancy to it.

Well, she decided to give it a try. She pulled out their flour reserves, water, butter, and a few other ingredients, and soon she'd whipped up a decently-improvised crust. She mashed up the berries, mixed in just a bit of honey, filled the crust with the filling, folded it into a turnover, and buttered the outside. Then she stocked up their makeshift oven and popped the pastry-to-be in. The firewood was a bit low – they would have to either cart some in from wherever Wilson kept his stockpile, or else go out and chop some more before that evening.

She finished off the remainder of the filling with relish then settled down to do a bit of rope-weaving while she waited.

Perhaps a half an hour later she pulled the pastry out – golden brown, crispy and buttery – and set it aside to cool. She could pop it back in the oven to keep it warm if Wilson didn't arrive soon.

She didn't need to. Not five minutes later Wilson trudged back into camp. She perked up upon hearing him approach, but her stomach dropped when she saw him.

He looked dreadful, hunched over, grasping his stomach and hobbling slightly. His pack was empty and torn apart, his spear was bloodied and broken in half, and he looked absolutely miserable.

She rushed over to him at once. "Wilson? Are you alright?"

She helped him, not to the fire as he seemed inclined to go, but to the first-aid bench. He tried to wave her aside. "I'm fine, I'm fine. It's not often I fail in a beefalo hunt, but it happens from time to time. I have a small scratch, but nothing serious."

Ignoring his dismissal of his clearly damaged state, she rushed about grabbing her medical supplies and put a pot of water in the still-hot oven. She dashed back to Wilson. "Alright, where's the scratch? It'll take a while for the water to boil, but I can at least take a look at it."

He winced and began unbuttoning his vest, then his shirt. He tried shrugging out of it but gasped in pain at the attempted movement. Immediately she reached out to help him get the articles off, carefully sliding the material over his shoulders and off his arms.

As the shirt came off her eyes were drawn to the scratch he'd mentioned…then past it to the rest of him. As she'd suspected, his physique was superb in spite of his relatively slim stature. His muscles were modest, but well-defined. His skin tone was pale, but not pallid. His shoulders were…powerful.

She felt her face color. She bit her lip and forced her attention to stay where it was needed.

He was right, the scratch wasn't bad. What was bad was the massive, purplish bruise that was already starting to form across his entire abdomen.

"What happened?" She asked, throat constricted with worry.

He sighed. "I'd cut one of the adults off from the herd – a mother with a juvenile calf – and was just about to finish her off. Unfortunately, I made a bad mistake. I assumed that the calf was still young enough that it would retreat back to the herd in fear upon my attack, but it wasn't. It rushed me as I raised the spear for the final blow, and caught me right in the stomach. Its horns had, thank goodness, already branched out a fair bit. I would have been gored to death had they still been close-set. Still, one of them caught me as it twisted its head."

His shoulders slumped and he grasped his stomach again. She said, "Hold on just a moment," and ran back to the oven. She pulled on some thick, protective gloves, and pulled the pan out. Simmering was hot enough.

She brought the water back and began tending the wound. "I'm just glad you made it back alright," she said as she started cleaning it. "Any broken ribs?"

He shook his head. "No, it was a bit low for that. It just took me a while to recover my breath. Goodness knows my shoulders will be sore for a few days, the way I landed, but overall I'm fine. I'll wait a few days then head back. We need that meat."

"Well," she said as she dabbed disinfectant on the wound "We'll have plenty of meat to get us by the in meantime. I brought back about a beefalo's worth of rabbits today."

Wilson cocked his head curiously. "Oh? How many did you snare?"

"Only two, but I caught a lucky break on the island today. The whole thing is flooding with the rising tide. They were all flooded out of their dens so I grabbed the spear and your pigskin pack and went wild on them. I figured they'd be drowned in a day or two anyways. I brought back…oh, sixteen? Seventeen?"

"That's a lot of rabbits!"

"Yup."

She lathered salve onto the wound and said, "I didn't get around to the pinecones yet, but you should see our grass and stick stores. I got a decent length of rope woven, too." She bandaged up the injury and put the rest of the supplies away. "Oh, and I made something for you. Come on, let's get you settled down. You need a rest."

"I'm fine…" he protested weakly, but groaned as she helped him back onto his feet. She led him to his tent. He sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag and said, "Really, I'm okay, just give me a minute to rest and we can go out and get some pinecones…"

She shook her head. "Wilson, I know we need to get ready for winter, but you need to take care of yourself. Nip an injury in the bud and it will bother you a lot less later on. Just relax, I know how to deal with bad impacts. And in the meantime…"

She grabbed the treat she'd made him – it was still warm – and brought it to him along with a tall cup of cool water.

He took the plate and looked at the confection. "What is this…?" He asked curiously.

"A turnover," she said. "They were always my favorite treat back home. Give it a try and tell me how I did."

He licked his lips and took a bit out of the corner. His eyes shot open and he moaned in delight. "It's perfect," he said when he finished chewing. "I take it you tried the beefalo butter?"

She nodded. "Yup. Good stuff. Now stay there and enjoy your treat, I'll be right back."

He eyed the pastry sadly. "I don't deserve this."

She scowled at him. "You're injured and you had a bad day. You need something to keep your spirits up."

"We need food for winter," he insisted.

She jerked her thumb in the direction of the rabbits she'd brought home. "The rabbits will get us by for a while." Her voice softened. "You had a spot of bad luck today, I had a spot of good luck. It evens out. We'll be fine."

He let out another deep breath. "Yes, alright, I suppose so. But really, I'm perfectly fine, just a bit sore…"

"And you'll be a lot more sore tomorrow if you don't let me take care of this. Stay," she insisted.

She went out and got several things ready. First she went to his spare chest and dug around for a few things he had told her about the other day – thermal stones. He had four, two for regular use and two backups. She took them all and stuck two of them in the oven. Then she fetched some of his hefty nitre supply. "You said two handfuls of nitre for an endothermic fire, right?"

"Yes…?" He called from the tent.

She nodded to herself and set up an endothermic fire in the pit, setting the other two thermal eggs on the edge of the blaze. Sure enough, it was cool near the firepit and the flames themselves were freezing.

The last thing she did was pull out her personal first-aid kit and grab a 600mg Ibuprofen, which she brought back to Wilson. "Here, take this. It's a muscle relaxer."

He examined the pill and downed it with some water. "Thank you. Now, what are you making an endothermic fire for?"

"Hot-cold treatment is great for muscle injuries. Wait here another moment."

She went out and fetched the now-freezing thermal eggs from the fire, being careful not to 'burn' herself. She returned to the tent and told Wilson to lay down on his stomach. He did so hesitantly.

"Really, I'm fine, no need to go to all this troub-ahhh…" He hissed in satisfaction when she laid the eggs on his shoulder blades. "Eh…well, I suppose a spot of thermotherapy can't hurt…"

She smiled, glad to be able to help. "Haven't you ever tried this yourself?"

"No. I mostly just work through the pain."

She clicked her tongue. "Well, I suppose when you're fighting for survival every day you have to make some concessions regarding your health. Still, immediate care can often save a lot of long-term pain. Try to take better care of yourself, okay?"

He hummed lazy assent and Allena rolled her eyes, pressing the cold stones into his shoulder blades and rolling them around a bit. After a while she took them back out and put them on the remains of the chilling fire, then fetched the hot rocks and wrapped them in a cloth. She returned and pressed these onto his shoulders, and he just about whimpered, relaxing even further into the treatment.

She left the stones there and went out to tidy up after his outing. She salvaged the remains of his torn pack, storing useful rope, straw, and sticks away. She decided the rope and flint from his spear could be recycled, but tossed the sticks in the kindling pile. Then she filled a washbasin with water and quickly scrubbed out his shirt and vest, hanging them out to dry when she was done.

Once everything was cleaned up she returned to the tent. She felt the rocks to find they were mostly cool, and she took them back to the oven to warm them again in case he wanted another round. The fire was starting to dwindle, but it would last for a while longer.

He mumbled something vague when she returned to his tent, then shook his head and made to get up.

She bit her lip, knelt beside him, and gently pushed him back down with a hand to his back. She really didn't want him working himself ragged, not after taking a beefalo rack to the gut. Besides, the hot-cold therapy and muscle relaxer would be most effective if he gave them time to work before exerting himself again. In an attempt to keep him horizontal she did the first thing that came to mind.

She prodded a bit at his shoulders to get a feel for the musculature, then dug in. Her mom had always had pretty bad shoulders, and Allena had often given her shoulder rubs to help her manage the pain. She was good at it, and her fingers were strong. She went soft at first to make sure the pressure wasn't a problem, and when he didn't shy away she pressed harder.

He let out a low, rumbling growl. She'd never heard him make that particular sound, but it didn't sound like a noise of discomfort so she kept going. His shoulders were tough to dig into, but she didn't mind.

Her fingers pressed and kneaded the hard muscles, forcing them to relax. She spent about ten minutes on one side, then switched to the other. Then she moved to the neck, along the tops of the shoulders, and went back to the shoulder blades. She rubbed small, soothing circles into areas that seemed particularly sensitive, putting gradually more pressure on them until she could work them as hard as any other area. The goal, she'd learned through the years, was to get the blood flowing and encourage the muscles to stay relaxed for a prolonged period of time.

She succeeded. Indeed, after only about fifteen minutes it seemed like he might have fallen asleep. She was fine with that, and kept going for another twenty minutes or so until her fingers really started to hurt. His breathing was slow and deep, and she was fairly certain he'd nodded off.

She stopped kneading the muscle she was working on, but her hands still lingered on his skin. He was very warm and she could just feel his pulse.

Her mouth felt dry. Just for a moment, she let her fingers trace his muscles in a way that had nothing to do with massage therapy. They traveled only a few inches – across his shoulder blades, outlining the places where bone and muscle intersected. He was so strong.

As her left hand passed back over his heart she realized that his pulse wasn't the slow, steady pulse of a man asleep. It was a fair bit quicker.

Her face flushed, hot and prickly, and her fingers curled up and away. She stood and slunk silently out to fetch the warmed thermal stones. She wrapped these up, brought them back, laid them on his shoulders again and left.

She grabbed an empty backpack and a new axe she'd made the other day and stalked out of the camp silently, not wanting him to know that she'd departed. He might come after her to help, and she really didn't want that just then. She wanted to be alone for a little while. Her mind felt like a live wire, humming with some energy she just didn't have any experience with. She'd heard the expression 'butterflies in the stomach' before, but had never experienced it herself until now.

Her better judgement was telling her to examine her feelings and come to some definite conclusions on how to handle them, but her better judgement was being completely overridden. She didn't want to think about how she felt just then. She just wanted to feel.

She went straight to the forest, wandering about looking for pinecones. They didn't seem to fall very often, but over a half an hour she at least managed a couple dozen of them. She filled the pack halfway and decided there was room enough for a bit of lumber if she picked a small enough tree.

She looked around until she found one – a sapling just thicker than her calf. She'd be able to manage that, and the physical exertion would keep her distracted.

She started hacking. Wilson could likely manage it in five or six swings, but for her it took a lot more effort. More than a dozen swings later the tree swayed and fell with a soft crunch. The tree just behind her _crunch'd_ too, as though in response.

She took a moment to catch her breath. She'd need to lop off the branches, hack the trunk into smaller pieces, then load up what she could in her pack –

The tree behind her was still _crunch'ing,_ and the noise was gaining in intensity.

Every muscle in her body tensed. She turned around slowly, and looked up.

The blood drained out of her face. Cold panic gripped her limbs. Her mouth dropped open to call for help, but she couldn't manage a sound.

The tree had come to life. Its trunk had split into legs and arms tipped with long, jagged wooden claws. Gaps in the foliage near its top suggested a face, darkness seething within the eyes and mouth. It groaned horribly as it stretched one arm, then another, then lifted a leg and took a clumsy step forward.

_BOOM._

Her knees went weak and she stumbled backwards. As she hit the ground she finally found her breath. After hyperventilating for a moment, she took a deep breath and screamed.

_"WILSON!"_

The monster before her roared in fury. Her every muscle spasmed at the noise and she dropped the axe before hastily shoving herself backwards. The colossal creature took a step towards her, its foot landing just shy of her own. There went her new axe.

She pushed herself to her feet and turned to run just as she heard a series of sharp, crackling creaks. A massive rush of air swept by behind her and she felt a few pine needles tickle the back of her neck. It must have swiped at her and missed. Barely.

_RAUUUUURGH._

It roared again. She once again stumbled at the sound. Panic was strangling her horribly and she forced herself to move in the direction of the base. She heard the creature pursuing her and she wasn't having much luck shaking it.

She would have thought that the density of the woods would impede it, given that it seemed to have sprung from the largest tree in the forest, but it was almost as though every living thing bent back to make way for it while simultaneously springing up or poking out in an attempt to impede her. The result was that, in spite of her superior speed, she was barely keeping out of its reach.

Finally she reached the edge of the forest and prayed that it would leave her be and stay in its own biome.

No luck. She turned ten feet onto the grass to see it lumbering out of the tree line towards her, empty gaze locked on.

She trembled violently. She couldn't lead that thing back to camp – it would destroy it. She could outrun it in the open clearing, but to what end? Where could she go – towards the other forest? The island? Would it leave her alone? And what would she do if it didn't, and night came? Sunset wasn't too far off.

"Allena!"

She whipped her head around to see Wilson running full-tilt towards her. He'd seen the tree-creature and paused. "Allena! Do you have any pinecones?"

He was asking about this now? What was wrong with him!? "Wha – Wilson, _what is that thing?"_

"Treeguard! Answer me, do you have any pinecones?"

He sounded dead serious. The treeguard was making its way towards her and she had to keep jogging to keep ahead of it. "Yes! Why?" She shouted back.

He backed up a couple of steps. "Hold on to them! I'll be right back, just stay out of its reach!"

He turned and ran back towards camp.

She looked up at the Treeguard and it gazed down on her, void of emotion. She swallowed heavily and turned to run again. If Wilson said he would be right back, he would be.

She could feel every impact its feet made on the ground as it stomped after her. Every one made her heart skip a beat and her stomach lurch. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wilson dash back out of the base. He had a tool of some sort in his hand. His spear? He couldn't possibly be thinking of fighting this thing, could he?

She felt sick at the very thought, and resolved to lure thing into the open sea and drown them both if he even tried.

She couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but he seemed to be near the forest. She changed direction to go parallel to the forest so she could get a better look of what Wilson was doing. He was…

Digging holes?

Yup. He was digging holes. He'd already made four and was frantically shoveling at a fifth one. She stayed out of the Treeguard's reach while he dug one more, then he shouted to her, "Come over here! Now! And grab some pinecones!"

She ducked around the Treeguard and it swiped at her again, missing her by a foot or two. It turned to come after her, but she put on a sprint and managed a good fifteen-foot lead on it. She got to the edge of the hole and Wilson said, "Plant the pinecones! They're enraged by us chopping down trees, but we can assuage them by replanting!"

Her mouth dropped open, but there wasn't really any time for further conversation. She trusted him, so she slung her backpack off and pulled out a large handful of pinecones. Then she stepped around to the other side of the hole and, facing the treeguard directly, dropped one into the hole and covered it with dirt.

It seemed to pause, but only for a moment. It continued after her.

She ran to the next hole Wilson had dug, then the next, then the next, planting a pinecone in each one. Each time the treeguard slowed just a bit.

She dropped the sixth one in and covered it, patting the earth down gently, and finally the treeguard – now only a few feet ahead of her and taking care not to step on any of the newly-planted trees – stopped completely. She forced herself not to run again and instead stared up at it, willing it to see that she wasn't a threat.

It relented. As she watched it shifted its stance, brought it legs and arms together, and closed its eyes and mouth; in a moment it was only a tree again.

She let out a small sob of relief. Wilson had been beside her the whole time, just a few feet away, but apparently she'd had to be the one to replant. Now that the Treeguard was pacified he rushed over to her.

Before she could say anything he swept her up and pulled her into a firm hug.

She once again felt terribly warm and slightly embarrassed, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't have if she'd tried. Instead, she very slowly reached her arms out and wrapped them around his waist, returning the hug.

He embraced her in silence for a moment before gasping, "When I heard you scream I imagined the worst. And then the roar…I didn't know if you…I mean, I know that you're fast, but those things…I just…"

  
He trailed off and let out a silent, shuddering breath.

Ignoring the rational part of her brain that said the hug had already gone on longer than propriety dictated, she relaxed into his chest and closed her eyes. He'd been afraid for her. He'd really cared. She…wasn't used to that.

Her heart was still hammering. She focused on slowing her breathing and remained in the embrace until she was completely calmed down. Then she squeezed him once and said, "Thank you. You saved my life. Again."

He let go and stepped back, keeping one hand on her shoulder. "My pleasure. It always is." He frowned up at the dormant Treeguard. "Say, how many trees did you chop down to anger it? I've been harvesting this forest for two years and I've only roused three. Five in total in all the time I've been in this world."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I only chopped down one little tree!"

He looked surprised. _"One?_ I must have logged a third of this forest in the time I've been here, and _you're_ what angered it? Good heavens. Perhaps you just picked the wrong tree."

She chuckled wearily. "I guess. Oh man, that was not fun. What do we do about it now? Can we still log here?"

He nodded. "Don't worry. I'll do what I did with the other three – grab some pinecones, wake it up, lure it over to a nice place in the other forest, and replant there. I hope no one ever tries to chop down trees over there. That poor fool will find himself an entire living forest."

"Perhaps we should put up signs?"

Wilson snickered. "I'll put it on my to-do list."

They made their way back to her fallen tree and hacked it up, stowing the lumber in her pack and heading back to base. "So is that why you insist upon gathering pinecones?"

He nodded as she started tossing wood on the fire. Sunset was drawing close so they'd need to start the fire soon. "Yes. I always bring six or so with me when I go logging. I don't count on picking them up as I go anymore. I learned that the hard way once. Besides, they make good emergency fuel for a fire."

"Gotcha. Say, we'll want to start on dinner soon. Maybe you could show me how to dress those rabbits and we could cook a couple up?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. Might I borrow one of your knives…?"

They spent a while hacking up rabbits for dinner. She'd insisted that Wilson take the easier job of starting dinner while she dressed the rest of the rabbits for the drying racks. She needed experience, anyways. He'd agreed.

After an hour or so she'd really gotten the hang of it. The skins were off to one side, waiting to be treated; the meat was off to the other, waiting to be hung up; and the remains were in the 'take it far enough away that it won't smell up the base and attract hounds' basket, to be taken out to the ocean and dumped after dinner.

She still hadn't met the infamous hounds, but going by recent events that was sure to change. Wilson assured her that they wouldn't be too much trouble, fearsome as they were. They were always kind enough to announce their approach by howling loudly, and he had traps ready-made to kill them.

"Like the traps you set for me outside your base a while back?" She'd asked.

He'd winced. "Ah, you saw those! No, no. Those were only alarms, not dangerous at all. I have fang traps, heavy snares, sleepy darts, fire darts, poison darts, all sorts of things."

She'd whistled when he'd shown her his arsenal. Survivor extraordinaire, indeed.

Now they sat across from each other at the fire enjoying the vegetable-rabbit kebobs Wilson had prepared for them. After finishing his first and reaching for another Wilson asked her, "Say, as much as I know about your hobbies and interests I find myself quite ignorant as to your family life. What are you parents like? I imagine they'll be terribly worried about you."

Allena chewed her food slowly. Then she swallowed and said, "My parents actually passed away when I was twelve. I live with my uncle now."

His face fell. "Oh, dear. I'm sorry for your loss. May I ask what happened?"

This was a topic she hadn't been looking forward to addressing, but she'd gone over it enough times in the past that it was no longer painful to talk about. Mostly. "Just an accident. A car crash. It was winter, the roads were slick with ice, the chains on their tires were old…went off a cliff on their way back from a musical. Autopsy reports said they both died in the initial impact. Instant. No pain. There are worse ways to go."

He made a movement as though to get up, perhaps to come over and offer some comfort, but he refrained. Instead he simply said, "Yes, I suppose so. Still, I imagine the loss must have been a horrible shock. You have my condolences."

She'd gotten a lot of those before. "Thank you. It was pretty rough. We were close, and I wasn't happy about living with my uncle. Neither was my sister."

"Oh? You have a sister?"

She plucked another carrot slice off of the kebob and gulped it down. "Yeah. Older sister. Haven't seen her in ages, but we still chat over the phone from time to time. Her life is going great – she's a train engineer. Engaged. Has a nice apartment. I'm happy for her."

"Does she live far away?"

Allena shrugged. "About an hour by car."

He looked confused. "And yet you never see her?"

She fidgeted, flicking her kebob up and down. This was an even less comfortable conversation. "She's really busy with her life, and I don't have a car so it's up to her to come get me if we want to hang out. But she really hates coming back to town. Too many bad memories. Truth be told, she got out of the house almost as soon as the funeral was over. Lived with a few friends here and there, got some steady work, really made a life for herself. I could have done the same, gone out and made a life of my own, but…"

He gave her a crooked smile. "Let me guess – you're somewhat more introverted?"

She'd grabbed a large bite of rabbit between her teeth and was trying to tear it off in an attempt to keep her mouth busy. At his words she stopped, looked up, and halfheartedly released the morsel. "My sister is a really impressive person. I wish I could be more like her. I just can't seem to make myself go like she can, though."

He shrugged. "Some people have drive and charisma that let them conquer the world. Other people…" He looked down for a moment and frowned. "Other people do not."

She got the sense he was talking about himself and cocked her head curiously. If there was one person in the world she found more impressive, more driven, and more charismatic than her sister it was the man in front of her. "What about you? You mostly lived alone back home, right? What was your family life like?"

He grimaced. "Less than superb. My parents weren't much impressed with my choice of lifestyle. Bachelor status aside, they always encouraged me to join up with a university or some private industry, put my scientific talents to work in a more practical way."

Allena snorted. "I couldn't imagine working for a university. Too stifling, too political. Doing commercial research would be a bit better; but honestly, if I could afford to commit to just pursue my own personal interests for the rest of my life I'd love to. No breakthroughs shuffled under the rug because they were inconvenient, no competition for credit with backstabbing colleagues, no dependence on financial backers, no being forced to work on a subject I couldn't care less about…"

Wilson looked conflicted. He opened his mouth as though to reply, then closed it, then opened it again, and finally just stuffed some food into his mouth to keep it busy while he formulated an adequate response. Looked like they had that in common, at least.

She took advantage of the conversational pause to pursue the morsel again. Lean, but tender. Wilson was a good cook.

At last he finished his own morsel and said, "Yes, those are basically the excuses I gave my parents. Perfectly viable excuses, of course…but excuses nonetheless."

He looked like he didn't really want to say more, but evidently he felt that he needed to elaborate. "You see, the truth is I chose the path of independent research because I…was u-uncomfortable going into the public sphere. I-I've always been afraid of failure."

She blinked. Afraid…?

"I loved science, I adored the thrill of discovery, and I longed to make my impact on the world! But…the idea of failing in the eyes of the scientific community…of my peers…of my parents, even…I just despised the idea of being regarded as a disappointment."

His shoulders slumped in a familiar way, a way not unlike they had when he'd trudged back into camp that day, injured and emptyhanded, and at last Allena figured it out.

She stood up and walked over to sit down beside him. Without a thought to how it might be interpreted she reached out and placed a hand on his back. "You know, our world can't really be conquered. Not in today's day and age, and I think that's just as well. We don't need conquerors back home. But if this world has a conqueror, it's you. I mean, look at everything you've made here. It's incredible. I remember the first time I saw this place – when I snuck in to steal your tools? I was astounded that anyone could make so much out of so little. Really Wilson, you're the most impressive person I've ever met. You're anything _but_ a disappointment."

She wanted to say more, but when she glanced up and saw him staring at her, her face colored profusely. She withdrew her hand, dropping her eyes. What was she thinking? Why had she…?

Her heart, already racing, sped up even further as she felt him slip an arm around her waist. Her eyes raised again to meet his, and she saw a warmth there that took her breath away.

He shifted slightly so he was facing her and brought a hand to her face, fingers brushing her neck and sliding just into her hairline. His thumb traced her jaw. He said, "I know that I said I wouldn't take any personal liberties with you when I invited you here. But, perhaps I might be forgiven, just this once…?"

If she'd felt nervous earlier that day it was nothing to how she felt now. Regardless, she nodded through the haze that seemed to be preventing her from stringing together any sort of coherent thought.  
He smiled. His fingers tightened, just a bit, and he drew her into a kiss.

Her eyes flickered closed as their lips met. He was gentle and cautious. She, nervous and curious. As he pressed just a bit harder her hand came up and her fingers found his back, tracing their way down his spine. She felt a sharp intake of breath at the contact, and he drew her a bit closer. Then he broke off, giving her another peck – then another – then one more on the cheek before drawing away.

A shiver ran through her body and she took a deep breath. Her head was swimming, and it was only partly because she'd forgotten how to breath during those last few moments. Moments? Or had it been minutes? Her perception of time was skewed.

She felt dazed and opened her mouth to say something. This time she was the one unable to speak, though. Truly, words failed. Instead she conveyed her thoughts with action, wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing her forehead against his shoulder. Oh, she wanted to be close to him just then.

He made a low, contented sound and returned her embrace. They sat like that for a while, eventually shifting into a more comfortable position, and enjoyed the silent contact until the fire started to dwindle.

She was supremely comfortable, but she shifted away so she could toss another log on the dying flames. Wilson said, "I've been in varying states of mind since coming here, predominantly fluctuating between contentment and abject misery. Genuine happiness has been a scarce commodity. Ever since you've arrived, however…I've found it a considerably more common state of mind. The most common, in fact. What I mean to say is – I'm glad to have you here."

She settled back down beside him and said, "I can't say things were very different for me back home. About the misery and contentment, I mean. I can't remember the last time I woke up expecting to have a really good day, even before I came here. Now it's like that every morning."

He beamed at her. "I'm pleased to have had such a positive impact on your quality of life. Perhaps we might continue to improve upon it until we are able to return home?"

She nodded, and felt herself ginning like a loon. "I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only been uploading for a few hours and I've already gotten a kudo! My very first kudo! Woohoo!  
> Thank you for the kudo :)


	12. The Teaparty

"In the quiet, misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed…when the sparrows stop their singing, and the sky is clear and red…"

Allena sat by one of the ponds in the swamp, singing softly to herself. Wilson had gone off to gather lumber – he'd lured the Treeguard away the previous week – and she was catching up on chores today. Laundry, trap and tool maintenance, stocking up on supplies and so on. The island had, as she'd predicted, flooded completely three days ago with the full moon. The sea level had dropped below ground level again but until the water evaporated the island would still be six feet underwater, a miniature ocean in the shallow bowl made by the ridge that turned the island into something of a valley.

She'd asked Wilson if it might not be feasible to build a small boat or raft to go sailing on it, take advantage of the lack of waves, maybe fasten a drag net behind them for fishing. He'd said he'd sketch out some blueprints to see if it was feasible, but not to get her hopes up this time around. Maybe next month, though.

She stood up and shook out Wilson's red vest. He was wearing a thick brown tunic and matching pants today. Beefalo hide, very sturdy and good for the changing temperature.

It had started to cool off a fair bit over the last week, and was now chilly enough in the evenings to declare the season officially fall. Or, as Wilson preferred, autumn. Bottom line was that they had gone into overdrive preparing for winter. Wilson now always had more than enough food stored to get himself through just fine, but now that there were two mouths to feed it was doubly important to stock up on edibles.

Wilson had taught her how to make a drying rack and they'd put up two extra up in the base. Turned out frog made excellent jerky, so their racks were now full of frog anytime they weren't full of rabbit. They were full of rabbit any time they weren't full of beefalo. In other words, drying racks were their limiting factor, not meat.

She'd noticed that Wilson was interested in acquiring a regular honey supply, and she'd decided to spend the winter seeing if she couldn't come up with an adequate blueprint for a flowhive. All the honey, minimal risk of a sting. They'd had one at home before her parents had died, but her uncle was allergic to bees so they'd been forced to sell it. She'd taken quite an interest in it as a child and was fairly certain she could at least come up with a decent replica.

That would have to wait for spring, though. Bees wouldn't be active for long enough to make a decent amount of honey before going into hibernation for winter. No, the big thing on her list at that moment was the rope. Seven meters, extra sturdy.

It was one of the articles Wilson wanted to make but just didn't have the time to. She'd taken it upon herself to work on it in her spare time. She gathered the grass for it herself, wove it tighter and more carefully than she did the average rope, and applied trace amounts of glue to the inside of the weave at every step to ensure it was truly extra sturdy. She worked on it every time she had a couple hours to herself. She was keeping it under wraps and intended to have it done by midwinter, at which time she would give it to Wilson as a Christmas present.

She stuffed the last of their clothes into the washing bag and stood up to make for camp. She turned around –

– and snarled in shock, reaching back to grab her knife.

Maxwell stood behind her, inhumanly tall, grinning down at her. "Now, now! Such hostility is hardly warranted! I'm only here for a friendly chat."

She pulled out her knife regardless and flipped the blade out. "Stay the hell away from me," she spat. She wanted him to assume that she was angry enough with him to stab him. In truth, she was scared witless of the man. Was he even a man? He seemed far too tall.

He pouted at her, then brought his cigar up and took a long, deep drag. Oddly enough, he did not exhale the smoke.

He tapped the ashes off the end and said, "Well, it looks like you and Wilson are doing well for yourselves. I must admit, I'd wondered if you would survive the week. Then again, you did bring quite a haul along with you…had I known what that pack contained I might not have let it pass."

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to reign in her fear. "What does it matter to you? Why did you bring me here in the first place? And why are you here now? What do you want?"

He _tsk'd_ and said disappointedly, "Can I not drop in for a friendly visit? The other survivors are a bit dull, to be honest. I just wanted some honest company. Is that too much to ask?"

Allena bit her lip. A large part of her wanted to tell him, 'yes, yes it is, now kindly make like an exorcist and get the hell out of here.'

Another part of her, however, recognized that antagonizing the man who seemed to be able to conjure shadow hands and open portals to other worlds might not be a great idea.

Actually, it might behoove her to play nice.

Also, she was a civil person by nature and disliked confrontation. So she leashed her trepidation and mellowed out her voice. She even folded the knife back up…though she kept it handy. "Alright. I imagine you don't have many people to talk to here. What do you want to talk about?"

His eyes flashed. "My! Cordiality? I can't even recall the last time I experienced such a thing. Perhaps you'd like to chat with me over a cup of tea?"

He snapped his fingers and a beautiful little table appeared out of nowhere, complete with comfortable chairs, a red tablecloth, and…

Biscuits. And tea. Earl Grey, by the smell.

Well, he had called himself a Tempter. She hadn't had tea since she'd arrived and was missing it sorely. Earl Grey wasn't her favorite – she was more of an English Breakfast girl – but she wasn't about to say no. "I suppose that wouldn't be too out of order," she said hesitantly as she sat down.

His neck craned forward. His long arm stretched out and he twirled the chair about smoothly before sinking into it, setting his cigar in an ashtray, and lacing his black-gloved hands in front of him. His charcoal, pinstripe suit was adorned with a crimson flower and contrasted sharply with his white undershirt. Very dapper. Very suave. Very graceful.

He was a very dapper, very suave, very graceful monster.

Still, she forced a smile. She got the sense that this was a man who enjoyed propriety and class. Though she completely lacked experience in formal etiquette she had at least read enough books to get an idea of how a lady was supposed to act in such a situation.

He leaned forward and asked, "May I interest you in a cup of Earl Grey? A biscuit?"

She nodded tensely and forced her neck to relax. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you."

Rather than pour the cup himself he lifted his hand and made a sharp waving gesture, almost like a salute. At once the temperature dropped ten degrees and…

His shadow slunk out from behind him and rose off the ground.

A powerful shiver raced through her body at the appearance of the ethereal minion, but it didn't seem malevolent. It acted as a servant, pouring her a cup of tea and setting it in front of her before sinking back to the ground with a bow.

He was looking at her closely, clearly gauging her reaction. Perhaps he, like Wilson, enjoyed being complemented. What sort of complement, though? On his ability? His power?

No, none of that. He was a…classy sort of man. She felt like she could appeal to that. She cleared her throat slightly and said, "Good service. And unobtrusive, too."

His smile widened. "Yes, it comes in handy. Please, help yourself to milk and sugar."

He again waved his hand and a few small shreds of shadow flew from his glove and coalesced into all the basic tea implements she could ask for. As much as she hated the idea of drinking evil, demonic shadow tea, she hated straight black tea even more. She mixed in cream and a spoonful of honey and took a sip.

Perfect. "Thank you, it's excellent. So, what brings you out here today? Wilson isn't around, I'm afraid."

He waved a hand airily. "Wilson. I'd really hoped a man who calls himself a 'gentleman scientist' would be more couth. As it is I can hardly get a word in edgewise before he tries to run me through with one of those spears of his!"

She made a neutral sound. "And the others you have trapped here? Do they react the same way?"

He sighed dramatically and said, "I'm afraid so. The Constant seems to drain everyone who enters it of any semblance of class. Except for you, it seems," he said in clear tones of flattery.

Wait, what had he said? The Constant? Was that what this place was called?

She couldn't dwell on it just then. "Well, I suppose too much time in the wilderness would be enough to bring out the less civil aspects of anyone. If you don't mind my asking, has anyone been here as long as Wilson? He's been here for…three years, he said?"

Maxwell waved a hand once more and his shadow rose again, pouring another cup of tea for its master before disappearing with yet another bow. "No, I'd count him as the longest. And by far the most entertaining…until recently, that is. He seems to have made quite a life for himself here. Quite a comfortable, safe little life. Even my dear pets don't seem to bother him anymore."

He nodded meaningfully as he said this Allena heard a sound behind her. She twisted her neck to look, and every muscle in her body spasmed into tension at what she saw.

A thick-furred brown hound the size of a Hummer was prowling up to them, red eyes seething with rage. Its body seemed to be nothing more than a mass of shaggy pelt, thick muscle, sharp claws and vicious fangs.

Her hands clammed up and the teacup she was holding began to shake, threatening to slop hot tea all over herself. She tightened her grip on it and took an untasted sip. The dog was taller than she was standing. From where she sat now the beast would have had to bend down to bite her head off.

Maxwell chuckled. "No need to fear, my dear. My Varg is really quite docile once you get to know him. Aren't you? Hmm? Are you a good boy?"

The creature had walked straight past her and rolled over beside Maxwell, who was now scratching its belly and crooning at it. It whined and growled happily at his attentions. She said nothing, merely continuing to sip her tea, which had lost all semblance of flavor by then.

After a few moments of this he snapped his fingers. The beast sat up and stretched, then slunk behind Maxwell's chair and laid down, curling up and closing its eyes. Even lying down, it was taller than the back of Maxwell's chair.

She finished her tea and set the cup down, trying not to let Maxwell see her hands shaking. His eyes darted to the minutely trembling appendage, however, so it was fairly obvious she wasn't fooling anyone.

He sat back in his chair, clearly contented, and sipped his own cup of tea. "Now then, how are you enjoying your stay? It seems Wilson has managed to keep you quite comfortable."

He said the name with a hint of contempt, and Allena wondered at the hostility. Wilson was his favorite, wasn't he? "This isn't the sort of place I'd choose for a vacation spot, but aside from a nasty bout with the shadow and a spider things have been…fine," she finished lamely. "I'm looking forward to going home, though."

At this Maxwell clapped excitedly. "Ah, yes! Home! Poor Wilson had just about given up hope before you arrived. He was getting rather boring for a while there."

Oh, was that it? Had Wilson, his favorite plaything, started to bore him? "Ah. I see. Well, as I'm sure you know, we at least have a game plan now. Hopefully that will keep you entertained." Wilson had mentioned that the man seemed able to keep tabs on them on a wholly supernatural level, so she assumed he must have already known about all of their endeavors.

His head tilted to the side. "Game plan? I must have missed out. Do tell?"

She paused, and her mind went into overdrive as she realized she may have spoken too freely. Did he not know about Wilson's blueprints after all?

It seemed not. How should she respond? She didn't want to outright deny him, not if he was so keen on finding out.

The man loved games and shows. She'd play to that. "Ah, forgive me, I assumed you were keeping a closer watch on us. Then again, there hasn't been much going on here, lately…some toads here, a Treeguard there…I'm sure you have more important things to deal with."

She smiled politely and crossed her hands in her lap. His eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I've been a bit busy as of late. I've nearly a dozen people running around here, and I rather assumed…well, never mind. Perhaps you could fill me in on what I've missed?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil anything for you. It can be fun sometimes, not knowing everything."

A cold glint shone in his eyes, and for a moment Allena feared she was about to discover the less docile side of his 'pet.'

But no. It seemed that Maxwell was willing to play along. He grinned widely and said, "Yes, I suppose it can be. I'll be looking forward to the big reveal. Assuming you can make it until then, of course. Winter is right around the corner, after all. Biscuit?"

She'd always been keen on biscuits, but at the moment she suspected they would taste like sand no matter how much butter she added. "No, thank you," she said politely. "As you mentioned, Wilson's been taking excellent care of me. I'm fairly well-fed."

He leaned forward a bit more and now his voice adopted something of a purr. "Yes, I can see that. You look quite…presentable."

Her face colored at the inflection in his voice. He wasn't…?

He was. He was _flirting_ with her.

Her jaw clamped down and she had to force it to relax.

She let out a small cough and said, "Actually, speaking of Wilson, I think he'll be coming back soon. I need to hang these clothes out to dry – he's always very impatient to get his outfit back. Doesn't care for the beefalo leathers."

Small talk. Just change the conversation to small talk.

Evidently Maxwell wasn't much one for small talk, because he replied with a small puff of disappointment and stood up, hands still on the table, gazing down at her. Even slightly hunched over he was nearly seven feet tall, probably eight at full height. "I see. Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your chores. I suppose I'll depart."

She stood and smiled again. Her face was starting to hurt at this point. "It's been a pleasant chat. Stop by again sometime?"

He looked at her closely, grey eyes dark and empty. A spark of something seemed to flicker in them, and he returned her smile. "Yes, I rather think I will. It's been challenging finding the time to drop by, what with all the other survivors out there, but perhaps this winter might be a good time for some…spring cleaning?"

She shuddered at his tone. "Oh, um, I don't know—"

He laughed. "Yes! I rather think I'll see if I can't cut down on some of my responsibilities. Do have a lovely day, Miss Jones. I'll be looking forward to seeing you again."

He snapped his fingers again and the tea table, chairs, and implements vanished. Then he clapped once, sharply, and the monstrous hound behind him lifted its head. Without looking at it he waved in a direction vaguely to the southeast and it stood and made for that direction. As it passed by Allena, however, its head swung around and it slowed, taking several deep, snorting breaths.

Catching her scent.

Its jaw dropped open and drool dripped from its fangs as it began to salivate. Maxwell snapped his fingers a few times, impatiently, and the hound whined and turned to sprint off into the forest.

He watched it go, then turned to her with a small bow. "Until next time, Miss Jones."

Eager to end the conversation, but also wanting to do it politely, she did the first thing that came to mind – she curtsied and bade him good-bye. "Maxwell."

His grin stretched inhumanly at her gesture, and without further ado he liquefied into shadow, sank into the ground, and vanished, leaving her trembling in his wake.

The area around her was silent as death. Nothing moved but the wind in the grass some ten feet away. Even the frogs had fled into their ponds.

Nothing else keeping her there, and eager to be home, she gathered her things and made for the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the beginning is "Homeward Bound" - the Mormon Tabernacle Choir one, which Peter Hollens does a stunning rendition of :)


	13. The Raid

"What are tallbirds?"

Wilson had been muttering to himself, irritated with something he'd been working on. He looked up. "Sorry?"

"Tallbirds. You were just muttering about them?"

"Oh," he said distractedly. He was hunched over the journal he normally used to record his scientific ideas in, hard at work on a new one. Normally Allena didn't bother him when he was concentrating, but he'd been muttering about them for the last several minutes and she was curious. "They're one of the many strange and monstrous freaks this world has to boast. They're like birds, but…very tall."

She waited for him to elaborate.

He blinked and sat up straight, wrenching his concentration away from his journal. "Ah, they have long, skinny legs, a massive beak that hurts very, very much to be hit with, and a huge eyeball right in the middle of their faces. They're a bit tricky to kill, so frankly I avoid them on principle. I do wish I could get my hands on one of their eyes, though."

"What for?"

He sighed. "Well, after hearing about that creature you described the other day…"

The giant hound. The Varg. She'd told him all about her meeting with Maxwell and the enormous beast that had shown up. She'd assumed it was one of the hounds Wilson dealt with every now and then, but he'd seemed quite nervous when she'd explained it to him. Apparently, the normal hounds weren't much larger than a wolf. This thing was something else entirely, and the fact that it had caught her scent before leaving worried him.

"I'd like to piece together a more effective defense mechanism if possible, something that will give us a definite edge should that thing show up. I'm not sure if my normal traps will be enough."

Uh oh. If Wilson was concerned enough to be drawing up a new weapon, this thing was clearly nothing to be trifled with. "And you need a tallbird eye to do that?"

He prodded his head with his feathered pencil and said, "That and a few beefalo horns. I think they may be useful components in a threat-detecting weapon. Something we could set up passively that would spring into action should anything dangerous show up."

That sounded terribly un-scientific. "Er, we have motion-detecting technology back home, but none of it uses real eyeballs. Are you sure an actual eye is going to help your invention spot a threat?"

Wilson sighed and stretched his arms above his head. "Right. I suppose I ought to have mentioned by now, science isn't always entirely…scientific here. In fact, this world is a bit subjective. Intuition and metaphor seem to be every bit as important as cause and effect."

Huh. Intuition and metaphor. "Hence the eyeball helping you 'see' a threat?"

"Yes. If I can find an eyeball that's up to the task, that is."

That said, his gaze became distant, his tongue poked out the side of his mouth, and he whirled around and put his pencil back to the paper. His attention had already slipped back into his newest budding invention.

Her mouth twitched up into a smile, but only a small one. She was nervous, and not only about the hounds. Yes, their winter provisioning was going well; yes, they were prepared for any of the normal things that Wilson had come to expect of this world; but Maxwell seemed to have grown bored of the status quo. The Varg was the least of Allena's worries, truth be told. What Maxwell had said about 'spring cleaning,' about cutting down on his other responsibilities – his other survivors – scared her. Had he sent the Varg after them? Or something worse? Was her attempt at civil discussion with Maxwell going to result in people dying?

She didn't want to bother Wilson while he was inventing, so she grabbed her hairbrush from her pack and sat down on her sleeping bag. Ever since she and Wilson had…what was it the girls at school had called it? 'Become an article'? She'd been more conscientious about personal grooming. She used to only brush her hair before she went to work. Now she brushed her hair two or three times a day, and had even caught herself wondering what she might do to make it look nicer. She'd changed her part from straight down the middle to a stylish zig-zag that her sister had shown her how to do the previous year. It had taken her an hour in front of the signaling mirror to get it right. She also washed her face much more often, kept the base more tidy and organized, and even found herself collecting colorful flowers and feathers and pondering how she might use them to accessorize. As though she didn't have more important things to worry about.

As she ran her brush through the hair her stomach dropped. She bit back a heavy sigh. She'd been prone to mood swings ever since her parents had passed on, but they'd gotten a bit worse lately. They'd been trending towards positive before her chat with Maxwell, but since then bouts of stress and worry had become fairly commonplace. She hoped the other people in this world…in the Constant…were all okay.

Once her hair was smooth again she spent a couple of hours wandering around the base doing odd chores and generally making it more pleasant as Wilson invented. Just as she finished beating the dust out of Wilson's sleeping bag and returning it to the tent he stood up from his desk, rolled his neck to relieve the tension, and turned around. He looked a bit tired, but overall quite content. "Ah! I can't recall the last time I was able to sit down and brainstorm like that! I've had so much more time to devote to my research."

He looked around the base, eyes darting to the various things she had been working on while he'd been scribbling away in his journal. "And I see you've been hard at work as well! Let's see…you…"  
He peered at everything closely, taking stock. "Shoveled out the firepit?"

"Yup."

He continued looking around. "Swept up the debris…brushed off the tent…cleaned the oven…?"

She nodded again. "And the crock pot."

He walked over and inspected the now-shiny crock pot. "Lovely! And you tidied up the material stores and the tool shelf. Anything I missed?"

"Shook the dust out of the sleeping bags."

He snapped his fingers. "I thought I saw you carrying something heavy out of the base. Thank you, Allena, everything looks wonderful."

She smiled and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He pulled her close and leaned a cheek comfortably against her head. A few days ago he'd come home to find her hard at work cleaning the base, as she often did the in early evenings, and he'd asked if there was anything he could do to repay her for all the hard work she put in. She'd told him that being noticed and appreciated was all she needed. He'd taken her works to heart, and ever since then he'd been taking active care to take note of the things she did and express adequate appreciation for them. Having never been terribly appreciated at home, it made her feel quite valued.

As she leaned against him in the cool autumn sunshine she asked, "Is your research going well?"

He pulled back and yawned. "…Yes! Mostly. I have the basic design done and most of the materials handy, I just need–"

"A tallbird eye?" She guessed.

He nodded, pouting. Apparently tallbirds really were a bit of a hang-up for him.

She considered the dilemma. "Where do these things live, anyways? Are they far away?"

He shook his head and went over to the map table. He had a smaller, travel-sized map with him at all times, but he also kept a larger, more detailed atlas rolled up at his main worktable. He scanned it, then pointed to a rocky region a few miles southwest marked tallfort. "There. More than a dozen of the beasts live there. A few times I was able to catch one away from its nest and kill it before the rest caught me, but it was a close call and not worth the returns. The beasts are incredibly fast and much stronger than they look."

"Do they taste good?"

"They taste wonderful. Their eggs triply so."

She hummed thoughtfully. After a moment's consideration she said, "Why don't we go down there with some supplies and see if we couldn't work together to bring one down?"

He looked reluctant. He raised a finger to protest but before he could she said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to run in there cave-man style and start stabbing the things with my spear. But you know how fast I am. I could provide a distraction so you can have an easier time killing the things without getting hurt."

He still looked disconcerted. "Well, I suppose it might be worth a try…"

Her spirits lifted. A hunting trip with Wilson. Scary? Probably. Fun and exciting? Also very probable. She was eager to get out and see more of this world of theirs. "I'll stay safe. I'll be careful. If things get rough, I'll book it and I won't look back. Besides, you need the eye for your research. To keep both of us safe."

He relented. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. Very well. We'll pack tonight and leave first thing tomorrow, yes?"

She grinned. "Sounds good."

* * *

It was the following day. They stood crouched behind a lumpy boulder on the outskirts of a dead grey rockland. The only three things the flat expanse of slate before them had in abundance was boulders, big, fluffy straw nests, and…

Allena looked at one of the screeching monstrosities that stilted across the plain in front of her. "That's a rather tall bird," she intoned.

"That's what I said!"

As Wilson had described, the creatures were very tall – the shortest were fully ten feet – and were mostly legs. The single jointed appendages were covered in hard-looking black scales that Wilson assured her were impossible to crack through or skin. Their bodies were round masses of short, ugly black feathers with a couple of stubby little wings on either side. A massive, unforgiving black-purple beak jutted out of the face just below the single huge, round, unblinking eye. The legs ended in three massive talons that looked large and sharp enough to gut a rhinoceros.

"Are you sure the feet aren't dangerous?"

Wilson shook his head. "They need the balance too desperately to risk using their feet as weapons. I have never had one of them attempt to kick or claw me. They just throw their heads down with enough force to shatter a spear or split a log in half. Trust me, I know. Just, eh…don't fall over."

He was clad in a suit of wooden armor, joints tied together with sturdy ropes, his tell-tale red vest replaced by underlying beefalo-skin leathers. Less noticeable. He'd tried delaying the trip at the last minute, claiming he needed to make some armor for her, but she'd insisted she'd be fine. She had no intention of letting one of them land a hit.

Now they stood before the field of spindly giants and Allena frowned as she eyed their nests. "Are those eggs blue with yellow polka dots?"

Wilson's eyebrows furrowed. "Yes. That's strange. Normally they lay in the spring."

Really? _That's_ what's strange?

"Perhaps something happened, and their laying season was postponed," he continued.

"Or they all lost their eggs at once in some freak accident and laid again," she added.

Wilson nodded. "Either way, we may try stealing one if we get the chance. It's risky, though. Those birds will chase you halfway back to base if you pick up their eggs, and it's hard to lose them."

She was watching the one closest to them. It was taller than the others, its legs were thicker, and its eyes were bloodshot. "That one looks nasty."

Wilson nodded gravely. "He's tried to kill me several times before. I've done my best to return the favor. See the scar below the eye?"

She noted it. Feathers didn't seem to grow along it. "Yikes. I bet he hates you."

"Quite."

They'd discussed their strategy on the way up there. Wilson would scout them out and find a target. Allena would stumble out looking like nice, injured prey and lead it away from the others, and Wilson would try to loop around and get in a good strike. If that failed, Allena would run and try to lure the bird as far away as possible while Wilson went ape on it. If they could kill it before the others got there, even seriously wound it…

Plan decided on, she wished him luck and he went off to find a target. It didn't take long. The bird he picked out was a good long way away from Wilson's vengeance-bird, a long line of boulders cut it off from most of the other nests, and it was a good two feet below average height. Probably a younger one, inexperienced, laying for the first time.

Wilson gave her a worried look but she waved him off. "I'll be fine. Go on," she whispered. He gave her a cautious thumbs-up and took off.

She waited a minute to be sure he was in position, then she walked out from behind the boulder. She added a limp to her gait and stumbled around on the edge of the rockland doing her best to look edible.

The goal was to lure the tallbird over without alarming it. It would shriek over a predator, but not over prey. It wouldn't want to let everyone else in the flock know that it had found food.

She thought she would be too far away to get its attention, but almost at once its eye locked onto her. She froze. It froze.

It half-opened its beak, and Allena was afraid it would shriek, but then it closed it and cocked its head. Which looked very strange, since its entire body was its head.

It opened its beak again, then closed it. Open, close. It was indecisive.

She tried a ploy. She put her back to it and began hobbling away, as though frightened.

Immediately she heard heavy, thudding footsteps behind her. It was pursuing her.

She looked back over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wilson running behind it, but it hadn't seen him. Its sole focus was on her.

She bore her teeth in a humorless grin. The thing was a lot scarier when it was stalking hungrily towards her rather than prancing around at a distance. She sped up her hobble.

It clicked its beak and began running. Allena could see that Wilson wouldn't get to it before it got to her, so she waited as long as she possibly could – until it was right on top of her winding up for a strike – then threw herself forward into a sprint.

It opened its beak and clucked angrily, and that was when Wilson's spear plunged straight into the back of its leg joint, folding the leg and sending the tallbird to the ground.

The sound that came out of the thing's gaping beak was wretched. It gave Allena a headache instantly. It was fifty nails on a chalkboard, a dozen musical saws, and the whiny brat from across the street all rolled into one. And it was immediately echoed by every other tallbird in the area.

The one they were attacking didn't even have time to defend itself before Wilson leaped forward and plunged his spear into the back of its head, causing it to twitch and jerk spasmodically for a few moments before falling still.

"Run!" Wilson shouted, his voice pitched with gleeful exhilaration, and Allena didn't need to be told twice. The flock was making its way towards them, curious as to what all the hullabaloo was about. She and Wilson abandoned the corpse for later and ran for the tree line that surrounded the rocky flat.

As soon as they were in, Wilson darted behind a tree and looked out. Tallbirds almost never left their biomes unless their eggs had been stolen, and such was the case now. Already they were turning around and leaving, barely sparing a glance for their fallen kin.

She grinned wildly at Wilson. That had worked out better than she could have dreamed, though she had to admit it was scarier than she'd anticipated.

He returned the expression and said, "That was perfect! Heavens, if we could do that a dozen more times I could make this population as manageable as the spiders! Not to mention gain access to the gold!"

Allena pulled out her water bottle and took a long drink. "Gold?"

Wilson jerked his thumb out to the boulders. "Do you see those shiny streaks on the surface?"

She looked out and peered closely at one of the boulders. Sure enough, she saw a glimmer in the light. "That's gold?"

"Yes," Wilson replied. "Those creatures seem to love the stuff, and always make their nests around large deposits. If I could clear them out a bit, I'd be able to double my supply. Triple it, even."

She knew that Wilson used gold for all of his most important projects. He had a small forge behind the base. No doubt the metallic bounty out there was at least as tantalizing as the edible one.  
They managed three more tallbirds over the next couple of hours, though none went as smoothly as the first. Although they were all stupid enough to see her sprinting away several times then assume she was actually lame the next time she appeared, the subsequent tallbirds tended to screech more readily and took more than one hit to bring down. Still, as long as Allena was able to distract them while Wilson crippled them, they were able to kill each one before the others arrived.

After number four Allena sat back against the tree she'd hidden behind and said, "Alright, I need a break. I'm tired."

He was also breathing heavily, the strain of stabbing the beasts equal to her own job of running them to their deaths. "Yes, quite. We might want to work on culling them steadily over the next few days. And we'll want to raid the unguarded nests before we go."

Allena nodded.

It went as he'd suggested over the next few days. They would come down, kill a few, raid the nests and retreat back to base with their spoils in the early afternoon. The problem was when they were forced to leave off for a couple of days due to rain.

When they came back five days after their initial raid it was to a very unfortunate sight. There were only nine tallbirds left, down from the original twenty-two, but they had all moved their nests into a tight circle near the center of the field. Seven had eggs, two of the outer ones were empty. The nest in the center was being guarded by a familiar face.

"Vengebird," Wilson breathed angrily, and Allena held back a giggle at the fact that he was able to say that name with a straight face. Still, sure enough, the scarred and vengeful tallbird stood proudly at the center of the circle of nests, looking after the large blue egg in his clutch. Or her clutch. There was no definable anatomy on these things. She'd checked.

As humorous as Wilson's animosity towards the absurd bird was, the situation was grim. The hike up and back took half a day, and they needed to be rationing up for winter. They'd been meeting their quotas with three or four birds and two or three eggs a day. The eggs were huge, delicious, high-energy, high-nutrient, and they didn't spoil, as Wilson had told her several times. In terms of food stores, they were worth their weight in the gold that surrounded them.

But there was no way they'd be able to kite one of the birds out like this, and if they couldn't get any food out of the day then they were at a pretty big loss.

They weren't branching out at all. Apparently their prolonged hunted condition had driven them into a protective frenzy. They wouldn't stray more than a few feet from their nests before a sharp screech from Vengebird drew them back.

"He seems to be in charge," Allena noted.

Wilson growled in response. She could see the wheels in his head turning as he struggled to figure out a way to make this run profitable.

Allena thought about it too, and came to a conclusion. "Say, Wilson. It seems like every time Vengebird sees you he just about flips his lid, right?"

He grunted in affirmation, still glaring out at the creature from behind their boulder. They'd nearly lost several kills to the thing, and it always chased them right to the edge of the biome before turning around with an angry screech. It really wanted Wilson dead.

Allena voiced her plan carefully. "Well, why don't you be the distraction this time?"

He looked at her strangely. "What? Me? I mean, I could; but what would you do?"

"I'd raid the nests."

Wilson's reaction was immediate. "No. Absolutely not!"

Allena held up a hand. "Just hear me out." To be honest she was probably as anxious about her idea as he was, but she forced her worries away and maintained a level voice. "You head to the outer edge and make yourself seen, but just enough so they all look at you without chasing you. Give a signal – like a screech or something – when they're all looking at you, and I'll make my way steadily closer. See? There's a good line of boulders I can use for cover. Then, once I'm close, you run up and cause a huge ruckus. Keep their attention - make them chase you if you have to - and I'll dash out and raid the nests. They're so close to each other, I ought to be able to get four or five. That'll cover our quota, right?"

Wilson bared his teeth. He did that whenever he heard something he didn't like, such as when she'd first told him that she'd had civil tea with Maxwell rather than attacking or insulting him on sight.  
Like that time, however, it seemed as though he saw the wisdom in her words. "I don't like the idea. I don't like it at all. But…"

He shook his head helplessly. She said, "We need the food. And you know how fast a runner I am, and I've been resting up the last two days with the rain. I'm ready for this, Wilson. Besides, you're always the one who takes the risk. Let me take one, just this once."

He groaned miserably. "Alright, alright. How exactly do you want to do this?"

She geared up for the explanation and the two got to planning.

* * *

A short while later she sat hunched behind a boulder, heart pattering a bit faster than usual. Wilson had just let out a harsh cry that meant, 'one of them isn't looking at me! Hide!' so she was hiding. A few moments later…

"BU-CAW! BU-CAW!"

That meant the coast was clear. Trusting Wilson's signals implicitly she threw herself out from behind the boulder and sprinted quietly to the next one. She couldn't go full tilt for risk of being heard, but she was still pretty fast.

She got to one boulder and eyed the next one. Could she make it?

No signal. She ran for it.

Halfway there she heard, "RAWK! RAWK! RAWK!"

And her heart skipped a beat and a cold flush of fear shot through her. That meant a bird was turning away from him. But almost as soon as that signal ended…

"BU-CAW! BU-CAW!"

Man, Wilson made a terrible chicken…but a highly effective and entertaining hunting partner. The hilarity of it was almost enough to dispel the fear.

Almost. Kind of. Okay, not at all. This was terrifying.

She ran for the next boulder and kept going when she heard no more signals. A couple of times he repeated the chicken signal to keep their attention without sending her diving for cover, and she managed to get to the boulder that marked the outer edge of the tallfort.

"RAWK! RAWK! RAWK!"

She'd already paused to make sure Wilson got into position. He needed to get them all adequately riled before she could risk going for the eggs.

She'd taken Wilson's pack for this and emptied it of absolutely everything. It would be able to hold at least six eggs. Maybe all of them if she was lucky. She'd have to be very careful, though. If she got too greedy she risked every tallbird turning around and seeing her rooting through their nests. She'd never make it out of the fort alive, let alone be able to give them all the slip.

The closer she'd grown to the nests, the harder her heart had begun to beat. Now it was triphammering in her chest and stuttered a moment as she heard,

"AWK-AAAAAH! AWK-AAAAAH! BWAAAAAAAACK!"

That was the signal. Two Awk-aaaaahs for 'I'm going in,' and a Bwaaaack for 'it's working, they're on me.'

There was a thunderous challenging screech from Vengebird which was quickly taken up by the rest of the flock. She slipped out from behind the rock to see the him running for Wilson, followed by the rest of them. She had moments to get them enough food to make the trip worthwhile.

For a horrible moment her legs locked up. Nine killer monstrosities were being driven into a frenzy not twenty feet from her, and she was about to steal their offspring. Why was she doing this? _This was insane._

_You're doing this because you need to. Wilson needs you to._

She forced herself to keep moving.

She slung the pack off and dropped it beside one of the inner nests, then dumped an egg into it unceremoniously. The eggshells took a heavy rock to crack so there was no chance of her breaking them on accident. She tossed one, two, three, four eggs into the pack before grabbing it and running it back to the boulder.

She had enough. Just enough. Barely. She looked back out to see that Wilson still had their full attention, and she forced aside her trepidation and decided to try for one or two more. It seemed that, having broken through her original state of panic, it had become easier for her to disregard the voice in her head that was screaming self-preservation at her.

She ran back out and grabbed one from the last outer nest on her side, stuffing it into her jacket which was tucked into her pants, and decided to go for the big prize.

Vengebird's egg was almost twice the size of the others, and absolutely beautiful in color. The yellow spots were almost gold, the blue the shade of a clear, chilly winter morning in the mountains, up where the air was thin and crisp and so cold it nearly froze your lungs to breathe.

She grabbed it and as she did something else caught her eye. The tallbird nests had mostly been constructed of sticks and straw, with a few extra accoutrements here and there – feathers and spider legs, some odd orange fur, stuff like that. Vengebird's nest had an interesting addition, though. A long white bone with a red orb tipped with horns.

She thought it was strange, but on an impulse she grabbed it, too.

"KRAW CAW! KRAW CAW! KRAW CAW! KRAW CAW! KRAW CAW!"

She knew what that meant. He was losing their interest. Hide.

She leaped out of the nest and didn't look back. Instead she flew over the boulder and landed just behind it as silently as possible, praying she hadn't been seen. The egg was in one of her hands, the bone in another. She slipped the egg into the pack and laced it shut, leaving the other one in her bulging jacket.

Wilson had a call to sound if she'd been seen, but she didn't hear it. Instead she heard something else that bothered her. The sound of a tallbird coming back to the nests.  
She felt faint with fear. She would have to leave everything if Wilson gave the signal, and even then, odds were good that she'd be caught...but Wilson didn't give the signal.  
After about ten seconds during which she knew that at least one tallbird was very nearby and the rest were still watching Wilson, she heard a different signal.

"CU-COO! CU-COO! CU-COO!"

Take your spoils and run.

She did, sprinting for the tree line without looking back. As she did she heard the sound of a tallbird very nearby let out a short screech, but there was no subsequent sound of pursuit. 

She waited for Wilson's signal to drop the bag and just try to get out with her life, but it didn't come. The screeching from the rest of the tallbirds didn't seem to be growing closer or more enraged.  
Had they somehow not noticed that their eggs were gone? How?

She made it to the forest. About ten seconds later the screeching petered off as Wilson retreated to the forest – then redoubled as the flock saw what had happened.

Allena was forced to cover her ears at the hellish cacophony. Such was the fury of their ruthless caw'ing that she quivered unmoving behind her tree, unwilling to take the chance that they would see her.

They didn't know where the egg-thief was. After a few minutes she chanced a look to see that the birds were running in frantic circles looking for their eggs. She felt a harsh twinge of guilt, but shook it off. Those things were menaces, and she and Wilson needed the food.

She slunk deeper into the forest, away from the plain, and a minute later was reunited with Wilson.

He jogged up to her looking franticly relieved. He was running his fingers wildly through his hair, and when he got to her he said, "That was madness. Never again! Do you hear me? _Never again!"_

It seemed that all the trepidation of watching her risky plight was now pouring out of him, and she met it in kind. All the terror of the last few minutes burst out of her in a rush of crazy giggling. "Ha!  
Gahahaha! What happened? I thought…didn't one of them see me…?"

Wilson was clutching his chest and now said, "Yes! But by sheer luck the one that turned around to check its nest was _the only one whose nest you hadn't raided._ It went back and sat down on its egg when it saw the other nests were empty, but it didn't seem terribly inclined to alert the rest of them!"

Her giggling doubled up into laughter. "It didn't let them know their eggs were all gone!?"

"No! It just screeched when it saw you running away, then it sat on its egg and just watched you leave!"

She was now laughing so hard tears streamed down her face, and she finally let go of the last of her fear in a legitimate sob and hurled herself into Wilson's chest. He grabbed hold of her and asked, "Allena? Are you alright?"

Her sob petered off and she took several calming breaths. Then she said, "I'm fine. I'm fine, but I almost wasn't. You're right, Wilson, that was insane. Never again, and to be honest I don't want to see another tallbird until spring comes around, okay?"

He leaned back and looked at her, disheveled and shaking with spent adrenaline. He cupped her face in his hand and said, "Yes, of course. I have more than enough eyes for my research, and there are far easier ways to get food. Frogs, fish, rabbits, birds, beefalo. The farm. What more could we need?"

She hiccupped and hugged him. That experience had scared her more than she'd expected it to. But Wilson calmed her down. As usual.

She couldn't imagine what she'd do without him.

He held her until she'd relaxed, then asked, "So, you got quite a few eggs, yes?"

She nodded and slung his backpack off. The eggs were heavy as hell, and her shoulders were already hurting.

Wilson made a noise of extreme happiness when he saw the haul. "Look at them! So many! So much egg! Oh, if only we could afford to have one tonight, but we need to stick to fresh rations. I cannot wait to treat you to one of these. You'll be amazed. Just one tides me over for most of a day! And we have…six here, eight more back at the base…"

He seemed to be running a calculation in his head. After a moment he said, "Yes, I think we likely have enough to skate by with this, the two of us. We'll want to keep stocking up if we don't want to look like toothpicks come spring, but with this latest haul I think we can both survive the winter with what we have."

Wow. That was a big landmark. "I'm glad," she said. "Let's take a minute to rest then head back to base. Do you want to split up the eggs?"

"No, I'll take them all, it's…what is that you're holding?"

Allena was confused for a moment, then she looked down and saw her prize. The bone tipped with the odd red ball. "Oh. Um. I'm not sure. I found it in Vengebird's nest. I just grabbed it on my way out."

Wilson frowned at it for a moment, then shrugged it off. "Well, it probably has some use. I never turn down an unusual object in this world. You never know what they're good for. At the very least, the pig-king may want it."

"Um. Pig-king?"

"Oh, do I have a story for you."

They rounded up their things and Wilson spent the rest of the walk back to base trying to convince her that there was a race of sentient pigs who lived about twenty miles away and all worshiped a high pig king who was so fat he couldn't move, and who plucked gold out of his numerous fat folds and rained it down upon anyone who brought him interesting or otherworldly objects.

Uh, huh. Right. She'd take tallbirds, giant frogs, hounds, even the idea of metaphors playing a vital role in the scientific process.

But giant golden pig-kings? Please.


	14. New Arrival

Allena paused in her task to rub her hands together fiercely. They were raw and cold, and she was heartily regretting not having packed gloves.

She and Wilson had been working on their firewood supply. They each had half a dozen pinecones ready to go in case they found any more Treeguards, but so far everything had gone smoothly. Wilson chopped down the trees and she carted them back to base. She could barely keep up with him given that it took her three or four trips to cart back a single tree, but she wasn't falling too far behind. They'd be finishing up soon.

It was cold. Very cold. Cold enough that she'd seen the rabbits sprouting white tufts of fur on their heads. Wilson said they'd be entirely white fairly soon.

Once her hands were at least slightly warm again she bent down to start piling the wood chunks Wilson had left her into the lumber tarp. He'd told her to head back to base after this tree and take a break, but she had no intention of kicking back and relaxing while he was out there working. Besides, she'd built up a lot of muscle and cardio since she'd come here. She'd be okay.

She piled up the wood and slung it over her back with a wince. Her shoulders were killing her, and she knew Wilson's would be, too. She gave him regular shoulder rubs now and had kept up the thermotherapy. She'd be sure to take a page out of her own book and ask him for a massage tonight – she got the feeling she'd regret it in the morning if she didn't.

When she reached the base, she dumped the lumber off in the woodpile and started stacking it, singing softly to herself as she did so. When she stood up to head back out she paused.

The bone-thing she'd picked up in Vengebird's nest was sitting on her sleeping bag, but it had changed. The orb had been red. Now it was white.

She walked over to it and looked down at it curiously. "What…?"

She picked it up – and dropped it with a shriek. It wasn't an orb – it was an eyeball, and it had whirled around to look at her when she'd touched it.

She stared at it. It stared back. Very cautiously she reached down to pick it up again. It kept looking at her, but it didn't seem to do anything else.

She'd been poking and prodding it since she'd brought it back a week ago, but she'd come to the conclusion that it was nothing more than an odd keepsake. She'd kept it as a trophy to commemorate the day and had grown fond of the trinket, hence her keeping it with her sleeping bag. Now, however…

She turned it around. The iris rolled around to keep her in sight. She turned it upside down. It followed her. She flipped it in the air like a baton. It whizzed around frantically to maintain its gaze, and when she caught it again it spun around dazedly for a moment before locking back onto her.

The corner of her mouth twitched up into a smile. It reminded her of a toy she and her sister had loved as children – a little eye suspended a plastic ball that stared straight up no matter what way they rolled it. It had been their grandpa's, and he'd brought it out every time they'd come over. If they were lucky they could sometimes get him to tell them the story of the Rolling Eye – a giant eye-monster that rolled through cities and towns absorbing everything it came across.

A flood of nostalgia warmed her, and she smiled. The thing didn't seem dangerous. She'd keep it.

She tried winking at it, and laughed as it winked back. She didn't know where it kept its eyelids.

Alright, she thought that qualified as a long enough break to satisfy Wilson. She stuck the eyebone in her belt and headed back out to collect more lumber.

About two hours later she and Wilson had enough firewood to last them a fortnight. As he loaded the last of it onto her back he asked, "Are you quite sure you don't want me to carry it back? It's no bother."

She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll unload it and stack it up, then I'm gonna grab the fishing pole and see if I can't get us a fish for dinner."

He said, "The ponds may be frozen. I know our water basin was this morning."

She shrugged. "If it is I'll come back. Say, could I trouble you for a shoulder rub later? I think we could both use some work after today."

He nodded brightly. "Of course! I'll catch up shortly. Enjoy your fishing trip."

She headed back to base. It took her only a few minutes to unload the lumber and grab her things, then she was out the door.

As she was walking towards the ponds she thought she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye. Something near the edge of the southern forest. When she turned to get a closer look, however, she saw nothing.

Probably a bird, or a frog that had wandered a bit far. Maybe a spider. Not a threat, anyways.

She made her way over to the pond to see that, as Wilson had guessed, they were frozen. She tried prodding the ice with the end of the pole to see if it was thin enough to break, but she barely made a crack. Even if she broke through, it would probably be too cold. The fish wouldn't be biting today.

She sighed and turned around to head back. As she did, she heard something in the tall grass.

Every sense went on red alert.

She was being stalked.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but her instinct told her that something was following her. Sure enough, when she looked out into the field to the southeast she saw a rustling movement in the grasses. It was beelining straight for her.

A cold flush of panic hit her and she ran. She headed for the open field, hoping it might not attack in broad, open daylight. What was it? A hound? Wilson said they always howled before they came, and always attacked in packs. This thing seemed to be alone. It couldn't be the Varg, not if it was small enough to hide in the grass. What was it?

Well, she was about to find out. A glance back told her that it was pursuing her frantically, gaining speed as she made for the base. It was nearing the edge of the grass, and Allena decided that the best thing to do would be to face it. She pulled out her only weapon – the fishing pole – and turned to face the threat.

It drew closer. Closer. It bounced like a frog, but it didn't jump as high as them. Finally it reached the edge of the grass. What emerged was…

…a thing.

She drew back as it hopped towards her, but she kept her fishing pole suspended in front of her.

It was a round thing. It was shaped a bit like a wicker basket, the sort people strapped to their backs to carry large loads in third-world countries. It had four stumpy, red, paw-like appendages that it bounced around on, and it was covered in orange fur. Two white horns stuck out of the top of its head, slightly curved inwards, and it had a big pink tongue that lolled out of its mouth like a dog's.

In fact, that's what it reminded her of. A dog. It was bouncing towards her like a golden retriever greeting its owner after a long day away.

Its maw was like a lid that covered its entire body, hinged on the back, and it was surrounded by teeth. Not long, sharp, tear-you-to-pieces teeth, but nice rounded teeth. Like little white gravestones.

She tensed as it came up to her and held out the fishing pole to ward it off. She hadn't screamed for Wilson, but it the thing made any sudden moves, she might.

It didn't. It just sat at pole's-length and sort of looked at her as though waiting for something.

Well, 'looked' was a subjective term. It had no eyes. How did it know where she…

She got a sudden epiphany. The horns on its head looked a bit like the horns she'd seen on her eyebone.

She pulled the eyebone out and the dog barked at once. The odd little object almost seemed to be vibrating. Did it want the bone?

She figured she'd give it a try. She held the bone up and tossed it to the creature.

Its lid mouth popped up and it swallowed the bone. Almost at once it stilled, then wobbled back and forth as though confused. It turned in a circle and whined. Then it sat down. She got the sense that it was moping.

Alright, it seemed to somehow see with the eyeball. But it had eaten the eyeball, so now all it could see was its own insides. Maybe. She was really guessing at this point.

It didn't seem dangerous, so she very carefully walked over to it and inspected it. There was nothing about it that seemed capable of hurting her. No spines, no claws, and even the teeth were terribly blunt. She reached out and poked its head.

She leaped back as its lid-mouth popped open and it started panting. Then she leaned forward to look in and saw a very odd sight.

Its insides were completely hollow, save the eyebone resting on the bottom. Just smooth, pink, dry skin. If she didn't know any better, she'd say the thing looked like a living chest.

It would be really, really stupid to stick her hand inside that thing, but for some reason she got the sense that it wasn't dangerous.

What had Wilson said? Intuition and metaphor were just as important as cause and effect?

She bit her lip. If she was wrong she might lose her arm. But if she was right…

She reached forward, hand shaking, and pulled the eyebone out of the creature's stomach.

Its mouth didn't slam shut on her arm and it didn't seem bothered at all. In fact it seemed quite happy to be able to see again. It flapped its lid shut once her hand was out and the creature started bouncing up and down, tongue wagging happily.

She found herself grinning widely. It was a dog. It was a dog the size of a steamer trunk with hollow insides.

She knelt beside it and touched its head. Its mouth popped open again. She touched its side and its mouth flapped closed. She scratched it like a dog and it leg started twitching.

She laughed. "Hey there buddy. You're a whole lot cuter than Maxwell's dog. You wanna come home with me?"

It barked and hopped two feet in the air. She'd take that as a 'yes'.

She walked through the doors to the base, eyebone still sticking out of her belt loop, and as soon as she came in Wilson greeted her. "I take it the ponds were frozen. Not a problem, we can always – _what is that?"_

He yelped and pointed at her new companion. She shrugged and said, "I don't know. It just showed up and started following me around. I think its attracted to my eyebone."

"Your _eyebone?"_

She pulled it out and showed it to him. "Turns out its an eyeball on a bone. I think he can see through it. Isn't he cute?"

Wilson stomped his foot. "No. No, no, no, no, no! Allena, we have no idea what that thing is! It could be a monster sent by Maxwell to terrorize us! Get it out of here right now!"

Her heart fell. "Oh, no. Please, Wilson? He's harmless. And useful! Look!"

She grabbed a hammed off the shelf and went over to her new friend, patting him on the head. His lid flipped up and she set the hammer inside. Wilson made a strangled sound as Allena began piling odds and ends into her new chest-dog. A pile of grass, some sticks, a couple of tools, some rocks…

"Stop! Stop it! What are you doing!?"

She held her hands in a 'be patient' gesture. "Wait, just look! Hold on…"

She walked over to him and said, "Come here, boy! Come on! Open up!"

The creature bounded over to her happily and flipped his lid up. Inside were all the things she'd placed in him. The load was fairly heavy, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest. "See? Look! He's a living chest. He can hold our stuff!"

She reached in and started pulling things out, but Wilson grabbed her arm and jerked it out. "It could bite your hand off!"

"I did this earlier. He didn't bite me. And look at his teeth, they're all dull."

Wilson grabbed his hair and screeched in frustration. "No! Get it out of here!"

She sighed. It was time for drastic measures.

She turned to Wilson, widened her eyes, and put on her best, 'please, please, please can I keep him?' look.

He tensed up at her expression. "No. Allena, no."

She laced her fingers together in a praying gesture and let out a pleading whine.

He snarled angrily. She walked up to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Please? Please, Wilson? I'll take care of him, I won't let him eat any of your stuff, and if he turns out to be a nuisance I'll toss his bone in the sea. He follows it around wherever it goes, he'll be easy to send away if we don't want him. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

He groaned. The dog-thing just sat there, looking up at them happily, tongue flopping around all over the place.

Wilson sighed heavily. "Let me see that bone."

She handed it to him. He inspected it, then tossed it over the wall.

The thing immediately barked and bounced after it, running out of the base full tilt.

They walked outside to see the creature sitting beside the bone, panting and docile. Wilson walked up to it and cautiously picked the eyebone up. He glared down at the chest-dog. It tilted up at him.

Finally he grunted assent. "Fine. It can stay. For now."

Allena squealed with delight. "Thank you! What should be name him?"

Wilson pondered the creature. Then he twirled the bone smartly in his hand and pointed it at the thing. "If you bite either of us I'm skinning you and turning you into a backpack. In the meantime…"

He lowered the bone and tapped either side of the chest-dog's head like a knighting ceremony. "I hereby christen you…Otto von Chesterfield, esquire."

He seemed to like his new name. He barked and hopped up and down a few times, then spun in a circle, sat down, and flipped his lid.

Wilson rolled his eyes and handed the eyebone back to Allena. "Just made sure it doesn't…mess in the base," he said with a last distasteful glance at their new pet.

She nodded cheerfully. "You hear that, Chester? You can stay! Come on, boy! Let's…"

She paused and looked up as something cold landed on her head. Wilson also stopped. He looked up and scanned the sky, which had grown badly overcast. Allena blinked as another chilly projectile hit her face, and another, and another. Wilson reached out and pulled something out of her hair, holding it out to her.

It was a snowflake, which melted almost immediately in his fingers.

"It would seem winter has arrived at last," he said.

She shivered. "Huh. I guess so. Are we ready for it?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist and nodded. "Yes. We'll be fine."

They stood outside their base as winter began to dust the Constant white, and she sincerely hoped he was right.

* * *

Later that evening they were sitting by the fire sipping their dinner. She'd prepared a thick, hearty, beefalo-carrot stew in the crockpot. Along with some bread Wilson had made the other day and a slab of butter from the stores, the dinner was just about perfect.

She shivered and took another sip of stew. "It got cold fast," she said.

He nodded. "It always does. I nearly froze to death my first winter, it took me so completely by surprise. I had to make a pair of rabbit earmuffs to keep my ears from falling off."

She grasped her bowl tightly, savoring the warmth. "I can't imagine how you managed to survive it. It must have been horrible."

He nodded. "A fairly unpleasant experience. One that you, happily, will not have to suffer through."

She nodded. If he hadn't found her she would likely be freezing to death, half starved, and shivering beside a faintly flickering fire for lack of lumber. She shuffled closer to him and pressed her shoulder against his. "I'm glad you found me. I don't know if I'd have made it this long without you, let alone been able to face the winter. Thank you for taking care of me."

He smiled down at her. She stretched her neck out and stole a small kiss, which he eagerly returned.

Just then Chester hobbled over and butted his head against them, squeezing in between them. Allena laughed and scratched him between the horns. "Aww, look, Chester wants some love, too. Don't you, boy?"

Wilson voiced his displeasure. "Well, why doesn't he go get it somewhere else?"

"Like where? From Maxwell, maybe? He'd feed the poor little guy to his Varg."

Wilson rolled his eyes, but gave Chester a reluctant pat on the head. "I'm not kissing him."

She snickered.

They finished their dinner and Allena washed the dishes while Wilson stocked up the fire. As she put the bowls away he walked over to her and said, "You know, it's getting a bit too cold to be spending the nights in the open, sleeping bag or no. I can make a tent for you given enough time, but I've been so preoccupied just making sure we have enough food and such…"

She waved his concern aside. "It's fine. My sleeping bag is a good one. Waterproof, too. It'll be okay."

He shook his head. "That lean-to won't keep all the snow off of it. And you know you had to dry it out after the last rain."

She winced. Yeah. It had gotten a bit damp, and that had been fairly miserable. "I guess. Still, it'll be fine until we can fix something up for me."

Wilson cleared his throat and scratched his head, which drew Allena's attention. She'd learned by now what Wilson looked like when he was nervous.

He glanced back at her sleeping bag and said, "I'm just worried about you getting a chill. These things can develop into much worse illnesses, and as you've told me, prevention is preferable to treatment, yes?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you're right. What are you thinking?"

He bit his tongue for a moment, then blurted out, "Would you like to join me in my tent?"

She blushed. Although they were in a solid relationship at that point, she hadn't considered sharing sleeping quarters with him. She'd always been the type to take things slow, and the idea made her a bit nervous.

That said, the sudden drop in temperature was enough to make her second-guess her sleeping bag's capabilities, and it would be wise to do whatever it took to prevent a chill.

And would she really mind spending the night next to Wilson?

A shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. No, she decided she wouldn't. "Yes, alright. Should I move my bag in now?"

His face was, like hers, a fair bit pinker than normal. He looked relieved at her affirmative answer and said, "I'll do it! Just give me a moment to straighten things out."

He dashed off to his tent and began rooting around in it. She heard the shuffling of cloth and leathers, a few thumps as he moved a box or two aside – she knew he kept his most valuable keepsakes in there – and after a minute or two he emerged and grabbed her bag, which he quickly shook out, dusted off, and carried into the tent.

As he did this she got ready for bed, brushing her teeth and, as an afterthought, bringing Chester's eyebone to her old lean-to and setting it under the shelter. He settled down beneath the tarp and looked up at her. She patted him and got one of the extra beefalo leathers that Wilson used to cover things that he didn't want getting wet. She held this in front of Chester and he opened his mouth.

"No, no, it's for you."

She patted his mouth closed and he whined in confusion, but barked happily when she draped the leather tarp over him. She took care to make sure his feet were covered. Then she scratched him between the horns and said quietly, so Wilson wouldn't hear, "If you get cold you can come in and sleep with us, okay?"

He hopped up and licked her face, and she giggled. She loved him already.

When she turned around Wilson was standing by the tent, holding the flap open for her. She ducked her head under and went inside.

Her sleeping bag lay next to his, sleeping pad under it and a hound-pelt blanket on top. She doubted it would get cold enough to outdo this setup all winter.

She sat down at the end of her sleeping bag, kicked off her shoes, and set them by Wilson's. Then she turned away and slipped her arms inside her shirt to wiggle herself out of her bra, the strap of which she'd mended weeks ago while she'd been recovering from her shoulder injury. She couldn't stand sleeping in it. She pulled it out of her sleeve and tucked it under her pillow so it wouldn't get misplaced.

Wilson said, "Honestly, how do you do that?"

She was confused. "Do what?"

"Get that…eh…thing off…without taking off your shirt. The logistics baffle me."

She laughed even as she felt her face warm. "Feminine secrets. Though if you'd like to learn firsthand, you're welcome to try it on."

She laughed even harder as he blanched and sat down on his own sleeping bag. The fire was stocked up and the wind was starting to howl outside their walls. Time for bed.

She yawned and unzipped her bag. Before she could climb in Wilson asked, "Would you like that shoulder rub before you go to sleep? No doubt you could use it after all the heavy lifting you did today."

Oh. Right. She'd completely forgotten about that. "Yes, actually, that's a great idea. Thank you."

Wilson scooched over and gestured for her to lie down. She did so, smoothing out the pelt and bunching her pillow up under her head. Wilson settled down next to her and a moment later she felt his hands on her shoulders.

She let out a low moan as his fingers began to work her tense muscles. She'd never had a massage before. No wonder Wilson never turned them down – this was _divine._

He worked her shoulders with ease, strong hands pressing them into relaxation. He moved around her back trying out different areas. "Is this right? I'm trying to do what you usually do."

"Mhmmm…" she breathed. He hit a particularly tender spot and she groaned. "Perfect…"

His hands moved from hotspot to hotspot, hitting her shoulders, lower back, middle back, blades, and neck on and off for half an hour. Just as she was starting to doze off his hands paused.

  
She lifted her head, about to thank him for the wonderful massage, but he cut her off. "You know, you should ask for shoulder rubs more often. I don't mind at all. On the contrary, I quite enjoy the opportunity to be close to you."

Through the haze of half-sleep she felt her face warm slightly. Although they were officially in a relationship she was still growing used to things like that. She'd never been romantically involved with anyone before, and frequently found herself flustered by the simplest gestures of affection. "Likewise," she squeaked.

"I seem to recall that the first time you graced me with such a treat you were perhaps a bit…curious?"

Now she blushed in earnest. He'd never mentioned her roving hands before, and she'd sincerely hoped that she'd misread his pulse and that he hadn't actually noticed at the time. Evidently that wasn't the case. "Oh. Um. I…yes," she said lamely.

He let out a low hum. His fingers dug just slightly into her shoulders. "And…if I may ask…did you enjoy what you found?"

She shivered. What was he asking? Did he want to know if she thought he was strong? If she found him impressive?

Handsome?

She took a shaky breath and said, "Yes. Very much so. Um. I…" she took a deep breath and just went ahead and said it. "I think you're just about the most attractive man I've ever met."

She felt his fingers tense on her back, almost as though his arms had received an electrical pulse. "I'm flattered. I must say, I could express a similar sentiment about you. You are really very lovely. I consider myself quite fortunate to be able to greet you each morning, and my heart lifts every day I come home to you – on those days that I haven't been fortunate enough to spend entirely in your presence, that is."

He said all of this in a rush, and she felt her face grow as warm as a thermal stone fresh off the fire. She'd never received many compliments, let alone one like that. Her breath hitched in her throat.  
His fingers pulled back and she realized that he may have interpreted her sudden stillness as offense.

To make herself a bit more clear she got up, sat beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," she said, perhaps a bit worriedly. She really didn't feel like she merited such affection, especially from a man like Wilson.

His arms snaked around her waist. He kissed her ear, nibbling the edge slightly. She whimpered and he stopped, but she pressed closer to him to let him know that she liked it. He continued, speaking softly between bites. "You are kind," he nibbled. "Industrious," another nip. "Intelligent," he dropped to her neck. "And courageous in the extreme. What more could I possibly ask for?"

She keened when he turned his attentions to her jugular, and any semblance of level-headedness she'd had melted away as he worried gently at the sensitive skin of her neck. Her heart was stuttering, her breathing was erratic, and she only vaguely noticed her hands clawing softly at anything that might keep her anchored to the moment – his hair, his clothes, his skin…

His teeth clamped down a bit hard, and her hand clenched in his hair as she let out a small, pleasurable yelp. Rather than pull back, to her surprise he pushed forward, sending her toppling back onto the hound-pelt. It was alarming, and it didn't bother her at all.

His arms came down to cage her in his embrace and he began kissing her everywhere above the neckline. "You are beautiful," he rumbled, all traces of hesitance gone.

He planted a rough kiss on her lips, then her jaw, her throat, her clavicle…

He paused as he got to her sternum, nosing at her neckline, and leaned back. Her eyes rolled down to look at his, and he saw a hint of concern flicker in them as they met.

He drew himself back up and laid down beside her, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Tell me, Allena, have you…had much experience with men?"

She shook her head hazily. "Um. No. I'd never even k-kissed a boy before you."

He looked briefly surprised, then his expression melted into a sheepish smile. The careful, cautious, polite and cordial man who held her gently by the fire in the chillier evenings – the gentleman scientist – seemed to have been quite absent these last few minutes, but with that smile he returned. "Forgive me. I've always put the burden of prudence on the lady in my past relationships, but my past relationships have been with more experienced women. I seem to have taken your affections for granted, and…"

He trailed off and took a deep, steadying breath. His hair was tousled, his face was flushed, and vague impulses were still bubbling about in the area of her mind that hung between sense and sensory.

He exhaled and said, "I may have gotten a bit carried away just then. Forgive me," he said again. "I said that I would not take any personal liberties with you, nor would I take advantage of you, and here I am breaking every promise I made. I will keep better control of myself in the future."

She blinked slowly as she struggled to process the moment, then a rush of anxiety flooded her as he rolled over onto his own sleeping bag again. Was he upset with her? Disappointed? Had she done something wrong? Had she done too little – or too much?

She was feeling very confused.

She sat up and looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. Her apology was an automatic response of her nerves, though she wasn't exactly sure what she was apologizing for.

He looked startled. Then he shook his head with a smile and said, "Don't be. You have nothing at all to be sorry for. I should have realized that you were likely to be a bit…ah…vulnerable in a situation such as this. As the more experienced individual it is my responsibility to pace our relationship. As much as I value our intimate moments, I value respect and tradition more."

She wavered, tired and still off-kilter from their moment of passion, and he reached forward again and hugged her. "Goodnight, my dearest one. Winter begins tomorrow. Let us face it well-rested."

He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Assuaged that nothing was wrong, she returned the kiss and laid back down, slipping into her sleeping bag and doing up the zipper. She heard Wilson do the same, and soon his breathing had slowed to the low, quiet whistle that she knew marked his unconsciousness.

Ah. As she came back to her senses she realized that she really had allowed herself to get carried away just then. She doubted that she would have protested to anything he'd pushed for, and she was glad he had decided to reign himself in. She had always favored what most people nowadays considered more archaic values, but she'd never actually had them tested before. She wondered how much farther their interaction would have gone had Wilson not put a stop to it, and her face grew uncomfortably hot as she took stock of the impulses that had previously been just outside her range of conscious consideration.

 _No wonder no one waits for marriage anymore,_ she thought to herself as she drifted off.


	15. The Bargain

It was a week into winter when she heard the howling.

She'd been working on Wilson's Christmas present – the rope was six meters now, nearly done – when a distant, ululating howl drifted towards her over the stone wall of the base.

She shoved the rope back into its hiding place and ran for the arsenal. Wilson had gone over what to do in case of a hound attack, just in case he wasn't around when it happened. At the moment, he wasn't.

She pulled open the chest and scanned the supplies. She felt confident in her ability to set up the fang and fire traps, but the large snares would take too much time. She lacked familiarity with them.

She grabbed the traps she understood and ran outside to ready them. Wilson had shown her where to put them so he wouldn't step on them when he returned to base, and she started placing them.

Another howl rent the air, this one much closer.

Her heart pounded. Wilson had gone to the other island an hour or two ago to see if there were any valuable supplies still to be had there. He hadn't come back yet.

She ran back into the base and took stock of the supplies. She didn't have wooden armor – Wilson had just started work on her suit and it wouldn't be finished for a while – so she threw on two layers of beefalo leather. She strapped a spear to her back and grabbed the best weapon left in the arsenal: a blow gun, complete with fire, poison, and sleep darts.

Another howl sounded. This one could not have been much farther than the edge of the forest. As a final precaution she grabbed Chester's eyebone – the little guy had heard the hounds and was now quivering by the fire – and tossed it in the tent. "Stay here, okay Chester?"

He whined, slumping down in the tent to wait.

As she turned she heard the pounding of footsteps approaching the base and she readied her blow gun. A loud thud sounded just inside the door, implying that whatever was out there had jumped over the traps. She drew in a deep breath –

– and let it out slowly as Wilson ripped around the corner. He threw up his hands upon seeing her and yelped, "Don't shoot!"

She let the blowgun drop from her mouth. "Did you see them?"

He nodded. "They just emerged from the forest. Traps?"

"All set up outside, right where you showed me."

Again, he nodded. "May I?" He asked, gesturing to the blowgun. She passed it to him.

He grabbed his spear and went out to meet the hounds.

Her stomach churned in trepidation as she followed him, clutching her own spear. Tallbirds and spiders were small game compared to what she saw approaching.

Four hounds raced towards them, three of them jet black and slavering. One of them was white. They truly looked like hellhounds, each nearly twice the size of a German shepherd, and she gripped her spear tight. Wilson pointed at the white one and said, "Watch out – those things release a burst of cold when they die. It can easily give you a chill, and even freeze you if you aren't careful."

She made a small sound of acknowledgement.

The hounds tore ever closer to them…closer…closer…

As the lead hound drew close enough that Allena could see the whites of its eyes – that was a joke Wilson had made once, their eyes were always solid white – Wilson raised the blowgun, popped a red fire dart in there, and let fly.

_GRRRRRRRROOO-YIPE!_

The dart struck true, piercing the hound's shoulder and causing its inky pelt to burst into flame.

It started running around in frantic circles yelping loudly. Blinded by the fire it rammed into one of its packmates and passed the fire along before falling to the snow to smolder. As it rolled around dousing the flames the next two bounded past it.

Holy crap. When Wilson had said he had 'fire darts' she'd assumed he meant they would give the hounds some sort of painful inflammation. This was…altogether more impressive.

One of them howled triumphantly as it neared Wilson, but the sound quickly turned into a gurgling choke as the fang trap she'd set up was triggered. Hound fangs, needle-sharp, had shot out of the trap as the beast had passed over it, shooting into its throat and chest. It stumbled and fell, blood gushing from the wounds.

The third hound, the one whose pelt was just barely smoking from its friend's fire, tried to stop as it realized that something was amiss. It skidded to a halt just a bit too late, and triggered the fire trap.

A loud _CRACK_ sounded as gunpowder was ignited, and the concussion, though indirect enough not to be lethal, threw the hound several feet back.

Unfortunately, the concussion also blew the blowgun out of Wilson's hand. It flew over the wall and was lost. Allena winced – had she set up the trap wrong?

No time to worry about it. The hound had landed on its side and its legs started kicking as though it were trying to swim. It was totally stunned, but that still left one wolf at high-capacity.

The icy hound stopped well before the traps and began snarling at Wilson, who was faced with a choice. Leave the safety of the remaining traps to face it one-on-one while its allies were injured, or wait for them to recover. The smoldering one was already getting back up. The stunned one wouldn't stay down much longer.

He made his choice. Tense and silent, he charged towards the white hound, spear extended, teeth bared.

It growled low and leapt for him.

Allena watched in amazement as Wilson slipped to the side and lashed out with his spear, slicing through the thick fur and cutting a long gouge into its side. The hound whipped towards him, unperturbed, and Wilson danced backwards, just barely missing its returning bite.

She was transfixed, but only for a moment. She wanted to watch the rest of the fight, but the other hounds were starting to get up, and Wilson would be at risk if they gained their footing. Though he'd expressly told her to wait behind the traps and only use the spear if completely necessary, she now didn't hesitate to jump onto the battlefield herself.

She approached the burned one cautiously just as it got two of its feet under it. It pushed itself up just as Allena lunged forward, jabbing it in the eye with her spear. It once again yelped in pain and flopped back down. Unsure of where to stab it, she went for the neck.

She lacked the strength to kill it effectively, but the spear sank at least an inch or two past its thick pelt. The hound snarled and tried to snap at her spear, but with only one eye its depth perception seemed to be off. It missed.

She wrenched the spear free and stabbed again. Once more she sank it only an inch or two in, but she could see blood starting to spread across its collar. She stabbed again and again, not allowing it to regain its footing.

It began to falter and its snarls turned to screeching whines. It was bleeding badly, half blind, and Allena decided it was time to switch targets.

Wilson was still fighting the ice hound, and he seemed to be doing well. She'd leave him to it. The stunned one was lurching to its feet. It looked unsteady. That was her next target.

She was getting tired and knew she wouldn't be able to stab this one to death too, so she decided to try momentum. She gripped her spear tight, moved to a better angle, and charged the stumbling hound.

It saw her coming and twisted its head out of the way just before she was able to stab it, and the spear missed the eye and sank instead into its shoulder. It howled in agony, and when Allena tried to tug the spear out the hound jerked away.

_Snap!_

The spear broke cleanly in half, head still imbedded in the hound's shoulder. It was limping badly now, unable to do more than stagger in her general direction, and without thought she turned and ran back to base. Instead of running inside, though, she followed the outer wall several feet to the right. The hound was slow enough that it couldn't keep up, and as it turned to track her and took a few steps forward it triggered the second fang trap she'd set up.

It fell to the ground in a burst of fangs and did not get up again.

Just as her own hound fell, Wilson let out a hefty grunt of effort and rammed his spear into the white hound's skull. It didn't penetrate, but it did jar the beast. A flood of blood ran down its brow into its eyes, blinding it, and Wilson took advantage of that to dart around to its bad side and thrust the spear deep into its stomach, jumping back with a cry of satisfaction.

The hound turned, but was already dying. What really sealed the deal was when it twisted about, grabbed the spear shaft in its mouth, and tried to jerk it out.

The spearhead was wrenched to the side and blood sprayed out of the open wound. It moaned as its intestines were torn apart by its own foolishness, and without another sound, it fell.

Wilson stood back, panting, then walked forward and calmly tugged his spear out. He walked towards the hound she had just dealt with and she said, "That one's dead, I think. The other one, though…"

He nodded and swerved to check out the badly burned one. Sure enough, it was still struggling faintly. He slashed its neck properly. With another spray of red on white, the hound went limp.

That done he turned to her, chest heaving. "Are you alright?" He asked breathlessly.

She looked around at the carnage. Four massive, hulking beasts lay dead at their feet, and they didn't have a scratch on them. She grinned. "That was incredible! You deal with this alone every year?"

Satisfied that she wasn't hurt he lifted his chin, puffing up just a bit. "Every month, usually, though your arrival marked a prolonged absence. I suppose that's over, but it was nice while it lasted. Thank you for your assistance, by the way." He dipped his head humbly to her.

"No problem."

He glanced around at them, frowning at the white one. "How odd. Normally those expel a burst of frost when they die." He shook his head dismissively. "Ah, never mind. Could you fetch me a few things? My golden axe, and perhaps that nice hunting knife of yours? I'll disable the last trap."

She nodded and went to fetch them as he knelt beside the untriggered fire trap.

She got what he'd asked her for and came back out, handing them to him. "Thank you. I'll take care of the skinning, though I'll let you know if I need help. In the meantime, perhaps you could start on dinner?"

She agreed and turned to go back in. It was getting close to dusk, and she was getting hungry now that the adrenaline was wearing off from the fight. As she walked past the white hound, however, she saw something odd about it. Something in its side-wound was catching the light and glinting.

She walked over and knelt down beside it. Wrinkling her nose at the disgusting sight she shoved her beefalo-skin sleeve up and poked at the wound. Yup. Something was in there.

She reached in and put her hands around something hard and freezing cold. As she pulled it out she thought, _Is that a gem? A giant blue gem? What is a giant blue gem doing inside a hound's bel –_

She barely had time to gasp before the beast tensed, whipped around, and latched onto her arm.

She shrieked in agony as its teeth sank weakly into her limb. If it had been stronger it might have torn it clean off, but it was still able to do plenty of damage. She could feel it.

Wilson's head spun around at her cry, and with a roar of fury he rushed at the almost-dead hound and punched it in the face.

It let go and growled weakly. Wilson punched it again. It's head fell back. He punched it again. It stopped moving. He kept punching.

She slumped backwards and looked at her arm. Blood was pouring out of it and chunks of flesh rose up out of the wound. The sight of ripped skin and red meat was enough to make the world go grey and cause a flood of numb exhaustion to wash over her.

Was she going into shock? "Wilson…?"

He stopped punching the hound and looked at her. His eyes dropped to her arm and the blood drained from his face as rapidly as it was draining from her injury. "Oh. Oh, no. Up. Come on, _up."_

He grabbed her as he did that first night he'd found her and wrenched her to her feet. He dragged her towards the base. "It's okay, it's alright. I can fix this. You'll be okay, I can fix this."

Her head lolled to the side. Blood was dripped from her arm, not in a steady stream, but in short, rhythmic pulses. It took her a minute to understand why that was bad.

"I think it hit a vein," she mumbled as she watched Wilson grasping for supplies.

He glanced down at the mangled limb and his face turned as grey as the rest of the world seemed to be turning. The only color that wouldn't fade was red.

He said something she didn't quite catch. He sounded tense, and she wondered why. Everything seemed to be relaxing. Why wasn't he? Why was he upset…? Nothing was wro…

The world faded from grey to black and everything went sideways.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

_Allena? I've stopped the bleeding. Stay with me._

_It's okay. It's safe now. You're safe. Just come back to me. Come back._

_Wake up. Allena, wake up. Please…don't leave me…Allena…_

She heard jumbled fragments of speech, and through the comfortable haze of sleep she grew troubled. Was that Wilson? Why did he sound so upset?

She wanted to go to him, help him, comfort him, but she just didn't have the energy. It was all she could do to focus on his voice.

_Allena, it will be Christmas soon. I made you a present. I'll give it to you as soon as you wake up if you'd like, you don't have to wait…please, I was going to celebrate with you…I haven't celebrated Christmas since I arrived here…_

He sounded helpless. She wanted to tell him she'd be okay, but she didn't have the strength. Instead she just clung to his voice, refusing to let it slip away into the abyss as it seemed wont to do. Or was she the one slipping away?

Her resolve hardened, just a bit. No. She needed to stay. For Wilson.

_My, what a heartfelt sentiment. No doubt wanting it badly enough will make it happen. By all means, wish harder!_

That wasn't Wilson's voice. Who was that?

_What, don't recognize me? I'm hurt. And after we had such a lovely conversation!_

Was that…Maxwell…?

_You do recognize me! A pleasure to see you again, my dear!_

She was sitting somewhere. She blinked heavily and looked around. Firelight flickered in a grate to her left, and in front of her sat a chessboard on a small table. To her right a door opened out onto darkness. Had she come in through that door? She must have, though she couldn't for the life of her recall.

Maxwell leaned forward, emerging from the shadows that had been concealing him.

He was sitting in a chair across from her, a comfortable high-backed reading chair. He seemed paler than he'd been the last time she'd seen him, and he now wore a long, grey, pinstriped winter coat with a thick white ruff. His skin was more pallid than the fur.

He grinned slowly. "Yes. I've been terribly busy. It's taken a bit of a toll on me, I confess. Nothing to worry about, though, my dear. Now, you on the other hand…"

He _tsk'd_ softly. "Humble apologies, Miss Jones. My pets can get a bit overzealous when expressing their affections. I must admit, though, I'd rather expected Wilson to do a better job with them…careless, wasn't he?"

Wilson hadn't been careless. She'd been the careless one. He'd been trying to protect her.

Maxwell chuckled quietly. "Emphasis on 'trying'. Now look at you. Lying in a sleeping bag, life ebbing away as that sad little sot mopes over you. As though that will help anything."

Wilson had taken care of her before. He'd saved her life again and again. He could fix her. He could fix anything.

"Not this time. It's amazing how quickly a torn vein can kill a person, is it not? How rapidly the life flows from the body?"

He leaned forward and set his elbows on the table, laced his fingers beneath his chin, and rested his head on his hands. "You're dying. Do you feel it? Even as we speak you're growing cold and still."

Dying? No, she wasn't…

She looked down at her hands and saw they were white as death. White as snow. And her pulse felt sluggish, too. She slumped forward in her chair, unable to muster the strength to sit up, even in this dream of hers.

"Who says this is a dream?" Maxwell asked, voice laced with delight. "What makes you think this isn't real?"

She narrowed her eyes at him even as she struggled to keep them open. This wasn't real. She was at home. With Wilson.

Maxwell's head tilted to the side curiously. "Home? Now, when did you start calling the Constant home? This isn't home, my dear. This is Hell. Yours, mine, and very soon, his." He said this with a wide grin. Her faltering heartbeat sped up as she saw that his teeth were just a bit too sharp to be entirely human.

At once he clicked his tongue and leaned back. When he grinned again his teeth were normal. As normal as a perfectly white, dazzling smile could be, anyways. Poachers would scorn ivory for those things.

He laughed softly. "You are too kind. Now, to business. As little as you have to leave behind in your own world, it seems as though you are quite reluctant to leave your dear Wilson all by himself again, yes?"

Maxwell's eyes darted to the door beside them. From the darkness beyond she heard a voice – Wilson's voice – echoing.

_Don't…Allena, please…don't…_

A sob choked off the rest of the words, and the door slammed shut.

She saw with trepidation that the side of the door was covered in locks from top to bottom. Draw-bolts, turn-bolts, chains, latches, padlocks…one by one they were locking, cutting her off from him.

She tried to reach out, to undo the locks, but she didn't have the strength. Wilson. She had to get back to Wilson.

Maxwell pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking a long, deep drag. He sighed in satisfaction, then said, "I can send you back to him, you know. Give you the time you need to recover. How does that sound, hmm?"

She lay slumped on the table, too tired to do anything but ponder the offer. He wanted to save her life? Why? And what did he want in return?

He twirled the cigar in his hand. "What, indeed! A price for everything, dear. Perhaps we could help each other?"

He waved a hand through his cigar smoke, and the smoke curled and coalesced into the shape of a man, tall and heavily muscled. He seemed to be stalking angrily through a forest of some sort. He cupped his hands about his mouth as though hollering for someone.

Maxwell nodded to the man and shadows curled from the dark corners of the room, gathering about the form. He seemed oblivious to them. "I've been having a spot of trouble cutting down on my responsibilities. Some of them are a bit more…resilient than I'd anticipated. But with your permission I ought to be able to speed things along a little." He took another drag. "A life for a life. The simplest trade. I take his and return you to Wilson. A good deal, yes?"

Allena looked up at him and with what little strength she had, shook her head. She would do almost anything to get back to Wilson, but not that.

"Oh? And why not? Does your life matter less to you than a complete stranger's? Does _Wilson's?"_

Wilson's life was worth more to her than almost anyone's; but her subjective valuation of life played no part in this. The value of life wasn't subjective, and that man's life wasn't hers to trade away.

The shadows seemed to cringe and Maxwell's lip twitched up in disgust. "How…noble of you. What, then, would you offer me?"

She looked up at him wearily. She had nothing to offer.

Maxwell's eyes flashed. His cigar fell from his hand and dissipated into shadow. "You sell yourself short, my dear. You have much to offer. If you will not bargain with the life of another, perhaps we can make do with what _you_ have to give?"

She shivered. Beside her, the locks were continuing to slide, click, and clink into position. They were nearly all secured, now, and she got the sense that once the last bolt fell the choice would be gone.

"Quite right. So? What will it be?"

"What do you want?" She croaked weakly.

At the sound of her voice, Maxwell shuddered.

His fingers twitched. His pupils contracted to pinpoints, enlarging his cold, slate-grey irises. The shadows around him writhed playfully. "I want you. I want you to sit at my table and drink tea with me. I want you to sit in my chairs and play games with me. I want you to sit at my feet and heap praises on me." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I. Want. You."

As he said this, he stood. As he stood, he grew.

As he spoke, he changed.

His arms and legs became longer and thinner, bending unnaturally. His back curled inwards, allowing him to stand in the low-ceilinged room as his height exceeded eight feet. His skin grew paler than her own, and his irises went the way of his pupils, contracting until they vanished altogether, leaving only the whites. His teeth once again grew sharp.

He'd begun emanating waves of cruel energy. Cold, prideful energy. Wanting, envious energy. Her breathing grew ragged and with what little strength she had left she trembled. He thought that she wanted a life like that? Was he mad? What she wanted wasn't to live. What she wanted was Wilson.

He hissed. "Go back to your life. You will have one more chance. The next time you die, you will stay with me. Well? Does that sound like a deal?"

Another chance?

Out of the corner of her eye she saw another lock turn. The final one, a floor-bolt, shuddered as it prepared to fall.

Out of nowhere, a thin, shadowy hand shot out and grabbed the metal peg just before it dropped. Her heart froze.

Maxwell stood before her, still as death, and she considered. Live again. Live with Wilson. The next time she died she would have to stay here, with Maxwell.

But if she escaped before she died…

Something else was in the room with them, and as that last thought crossed her mind it seemed to shiver with amusement. Maxwell's face stretched into a humorless grin. "Well? I will ask only once more. _Does that sound like a deal?"_ He held out a hand to shake.

Her energy was spent. She couldn't lift her arm, couldn't nod her head. All she could do was blink.

_Yes._

As soon as the word was thought, the blackness sprouted a dozen more arms. These flew at the deadbolts on her door to life and forced them back. Then an arm twisted the knob and wrenched it open.

She tried to get up, to go back to Wilson, but Maxwell's chuckled. "Not so fast. I must hold up my end of the bargain first…"

He stood up and grabbed her collar. He threw her back onto the floor, but something strange happened when he did. Her body flew back, but her consciousness – her vision – seemed to remain in the chair. She could see her own pale form lying still on the rug beside her.

As Maxwell hung over her Allena's eye caught something on the wall beside them. Now that he was standing, he was entirely in the firelight and his shadow was cast on the wall to their right; but the shadow did not match the object casting it.

A monster loomed over her, but the silhouette on the wall was that of a man. A man who sat hunched in a regal, highbacked chair. His clothes seemed to hang off of him in loose tatters. The contour of his spine was not one of menacing posture, but rather of hopeless defeat.

She stared at this for a long moment, thoughts hazy. Who was that? Was that Maxwell? It wasn't the Maxwell who stood in front of her. Who…?

The shadows shuddered angrily.

Maxwell's pale hand shot out and clamped around her throat, forcing her gaze away from the form on the wall. Her eyes flickered up to him, and she saw rage burning in those white and soulless depths. He flung what was left of her back towards her body, and she almost felt herself slide into it.

She tried to push herself away from him, but her strength was still gone. She felt like a conscious corpse.

"Yes, my dear. That is a very astute observation. Now, if you wish your soul to remain in your body whilst it heals, it will need to be bound. Allow me to assist in this endeavor."

He stepped around the table towards her, and as he did so a long, curved needle of purest black rose from his open palm. He strode over to her and dropped to his knees, a leg on either side, straddling her waist and pinning her down. His weight was nearly crushing, and he was cold. So, so cold.

Behind him on the wall his shadow remained, and now she saw that it was struggling to stand up from the chair. Its arms rose a couple of inches, its back pulled away, it rose an inch–

And it snapped back, exhausted, and slumped down into the seat. Above her, Maxwell grinned. "Hold still. This will only hurt a lot."

He brought the needle down and began sewing.

She thought back to the pain of Wilson sewing her shoulder closed, and realized that that was nothing. _Nothing._ This was true agony, and she could do nothing to express it.

At least, not at first. The needle that dug into her looped in and out, not of her skin, but of her very soul. Every touch felt like death, but with every stitch she felt more alive. Her strength was returning steadily, and with it, her vigor.

She writhed and screamed. Maxwell laughed and sewed. He seemed to be taking immense pleasure in his work, holding her down with one clawed hand while the other brought the black needle up and down, in and out.

She wanted to pass out, but losing consciousness wasn't an option when consciousness was all she was. She wasn't there physically, after all.

It seemed to take hours. He had to go up and down her entire body, ensuring that every part of her soul was anchored back to the living world. At last he leaned back, breathing heavily, and said, "There we are. Lovely. Very nice. Yes, I think you look quite presentable. Now, I must bid you adieu…until next time."

She said nothing, only looked to the shadow on the wall. It was holding its head in its hands and clawing at its hair. Above her, Maxwell hissed. "Has no one ever told you it isn't polite to stare? Begone with you!"

And he grabbed her by the throat and threw her out the door.

* * *

"Allena? Allena?"

Wilson. It was Wilson's voice again. It sounded broken.

She needed to tell him she was okay. This time, she found she had the strength to do so.

Her chest hurt, and with a great effort she heaved in a shaky breath.

She heard him gasp, then a hand touched her face. It felt feverishly hot. Or was her skin just cold? "Allena? Are you alright?"

She forced her eyes open a crack. She was in the tent, in her sleeping bag, and Wilson was leaning over her. "Wilson…? S'okay…m'okay…are you…?"

His lip quivered, but he smiled. "I'm fine. I just thought…for a few minutes…it seemed…I couldn't detect a pulse…"

She forced her uninjured arm to rise out of her sleeping bag. It came up and found his hand, which twitched in her grasp and immediately wrapped around the cold, offered limb.

It felt nice. "It's okay…I'm feeling a lot better…I guess I just needed sleep."

He nodded hastily. "Yes. Just sleep. And food! You have a lot of blood to replenish…wait there."

He dashed out of the tent and came back a short while later with a bowl of hot stew, a loaf of heavily buttered bread, and a small bowl of honey. He'd even de-crusted the bread so she wouldn't have to chew. A cup of steaming liquid came next which she assumed to be hot honey-water, though to her surprise…

"Tea?" She croaked as she smelled it.

He smiled proudly. "There's a rare type of flower here that makes a lovely tea. I almost never see it, but when I do I dry it and store it. Forgive me for not mentioning it before, I know you love tea, but I keep it strictly for its medicinal properties."

She took a sip. "Comforting as chamomile, sweet as raspberry." As she continued sipping a rush of energy seemed to flow through her body. Not like a quick caffeine hit, either. "And more invigorating than a cup of Earl Grey. It's perfect. Thank you."

He sat there at her side for a while stroking her hair and feeding her. She was still too weak to do much more than hold his hand.

Once she finished her meal, Wilson stood up to take the dishes back out. As he poked his head out of the tent, however, she heard a whining, scuffling sound and Wilson groaned. "Ugh. I suppose I ought to have mentioned, you have a visitor. Go on, then…"

He glanced back, rolled his eyes, and tossed the eyebone into the tent. At once Chester bounded in looking ecstatic. Allena's spirits lifted considerably as her furry little chest-monster butted its head against her uninjured side and started licking her. "Hey, Chester…did I worry you? I'm sorry, I'm okay, I'll be up and about again before you know it…"

She lifted a hand to scratch him between the horns and he flopped down, nestling against her side and panting with happiness. When Wilson came back in and saw them, his expression melted a bit. He sighed, "I thought that thing would be a menace when you first brought it in. I suppose it really isn't that bad after all."

She yawned and patted him. "I'm glad you decided to let him stay. He's wonderful, and even more cuddly than you."

Wilson narrowed his eyes playfully. "Oh, is that so?" He asked.

Without further ado he kicked off his shoes, shuffled Chester to the side and took his place. He looped an arm around her, gently pulled her to him, and nuzzled her neck the way he knew she liked. She made a small, pleased sound and curled into his embrace. "Alright, he's almost as cuddly as you. Can you stay for a while, or do you need to get back to work?"

He yawned. "I can stay. I'll catch up later. For now…"

He shifted to a more comfortable position, laid his head down on her pillow, and pulled the sleeping bag flap over them. "Sleep. Recover. The holidays are here – let us enjoy them."

Chester moved around them carefully and settled himself on Allena's other side, careful not to disturb her arm. He was warm and fuzzy, and she twined her cold fingers in his fur to warm them.

Her man on one side of her, her furry storage beast on the other. What more could she ask for?

As she dozed off the darkness behind her eyes seemed to flicker and writhe. A soft, silky voice in the back of her mind hissed softly, _Is it worth it, then? The bargain you made?_

She shuddered as she recalled her dream that wasn't a dream. The pale, hunched monster of a man looming over her, the bargain, the pain, and the shadow on the dark throne…

Her eye twitched at the memory of his struggles, and she forced the entire encounter out of her head. Whatever it took to be here with Wilson was worth it.

Whatever it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Got another kudo! Two whole kudos in one day! Thank you for the kudos!
> 
> Gonna be honest, it's a bit of a pain transferring this story over, but I'm really enjoying re-reading it. Especially when I come across old chapters that I really loved - like this one, and Contact. Anyways, hope you're enjoying the story as much as I am! Obviously SOME people are! 
> 
> Two kudos!


	16. Christmas

Midwinter was approaching, and with it, Christmas.

In the time she'd spent recovering, Allena had been able to finish Wilson's present and then some, adding another two feet to the rope. Nine meters, extra sturdy, tightly woven, it was a masterpiece and she couldn't wait to give it to him. She'd gone out that day and caught a couple of rabbits, skinning them and turning them into a lovely pouch to use as a gift-bag. She tied this off with bright green pine-needles and a few crimson feathers she had left over from the long-gone summer birds, and she thought it looked rather presentable.

The present was tucked away in the bottom of her backpack. Now she was rushing around the base getting everything ready, and she couldn't wait for Wilson to come back. He'd told her he'd be gone all day gathering supplies, and had asked her if she wouldn't mind tidying up the base. Boy, would he be surprised when he got back.

Another thing she'd done while recovering was fashion some Christmas decorations. Pine-branch wreathes hung everywhere, all adorned with whatever she could get her hands on. Some had twigs woven in delicate patterns, some had feathers, a few she had artistically dusted with snow, a few had spider and hound fangs strung about them, and the wreath of honor sat above Wilson's workbench, two small lanterns flanking it. This one had two grand beefalo horns carefully mounted on either side of it. He'd gone hunting the previous week and had taken down the biggest beast in the herd, bringing its horns back to her as a trophy. She got the feeling he'd be pleased to see them hung in so prestigious a manner.

Finally, delicate straw garlands were draped across the walls bounding from wreath to wreath. He'd be doubly pleased with these. She'd gathered all the grass herself, and with a bit of extra weaving they'd make presentable ropes – so long as they outlived the holidays. Indeed, just about everything would be recyclable.

She looked up at the sky and frowned. It was getting dark. She hoped Wilson would be back soon.

A chill of loneliness settled over her, and her spirits dropped. She put herself to work sharpening the tools while she waited.

Wilson had finally taken Chester with him for the first time a few days ago, having been too dubious of the little guy previously to risk his supplies, and he'd brought him along today as well. While she was glad that he'd finally gotten used to Chester, she did miss her chest-dog whenever he was gone…and lately she'd been prone to nervous fits when left alone too long.

She hadn't mentioned this to Wilson. There was nothing to be done for it, so it would be wrong of her to worry him. Besides, he didn't need to know the reason for it.

Ever since she'd made her bargain with Maxwell the world had become altogether more intimidating. The dusk had never bothered her before unless she'd been at risk of getting caught out at night, but now the approaching darkness seemed to gnaw away at her sanity any time she was alone. She'd continued writing in her journal, something she'd largely stopped doing once she'd joined Wilson here, but it wasn't helping as much as it had in the early days.

She took solace in the fact that she still did not regret her bargain, not in the slightest, but solace wasn't enough to dismiss her fear of the darkness.

And what was inside it.

Night began to fall properly, but that wasn't too worrisome. Allena now insisted upon Wilson taking the flashlight any time he was traveling very far or planning to be gone well into the afternoon. It wasn't worth the risk of getting caught out after dark. It was fully charged, so she knew that even if disaster struck and he couldn't make it back all night, the light would last him until dawn.

As she finished sharpening her spear and set it back on the shelf she heard a familiar sound,

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch,_

and smiled.

Sure enough, the sound grew closer and closer to the base and after a minute she heard a singsong voice call, "Incoming!"

Allena looked up and saw the eyebone whizzing over the wall. She caught it, the pupil caught sight of her and whirled around happily, and the crunching became almost frantic.

_Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!_

Moments later Chester came bouncing into the base, snow flying off of him as he finally came in out of the crisp drifts that now covered the area around their base two feet deep. Hence the crunching.

She dropped to one knee and held out her arms as Chester leaped over to her, tongue flopping around, stubby little legs waving excitedly. She laughed. "Hey, Chester! You have fun with Wilson today?"  
He howled forlornly and she pouted. "No? Aww, why not? Did he make you carry too much?"

He rumbled and his lid popped open. She gasped.

Wilson came around the corner a moment later and said, "Gah! Otto von Chesterfield – that was supposed to be a surprise!"

Sitting in Chester, taking up his entire belly, was a huge, fat turkey. She'd seen a few during fall, all looking for berries in the bushes, but they were always far too fast for her to catch and she hadn't seen any in a month. "Where did you find this?" She asked in awe.

He smiled smugly. "There's a clearing in the woods near the tallfort that is filled with berry bushes, always has a few turkeys. I thought we could…"

He blinked and looked around the base, taking note of all of the wreathes and garlands. "…celebrate Christmas?"

She grinned. "I was thinking the same thing."

He laughed and strode up to her as she got to her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I suppose great minds think alike. When did you find the time to do all of this?"

"I made the wreathes and garlands while I was recovering. Do you like them?"

His expression was one of absolute delight. "It's wonderful! I haven't celebrated Christmas since I came here, you know. I'd hoped we might enjoy a nice dinner, perhaps a surprise or two, but I hadn't expected…"

He trailed off as he saw his beefalo-horn wreath and his eyebrows popped up ecstatically. "Ah! Haha! Magnificent! Oh, this is going to be delightful. Shall we make it tomorrow, then? I haven't the slightest clue when the holiday actually is, but…"

"Tomorrow sounds perfect. I'll get started on the turkey first thing in the morning."

His brows furrowed. "Morning? For turkey dinner? Does it really take that long to prepare a turkey?"

She laughed and stepped back to put an extra log on the fire. "I've prepared a fair few Christmas dinners in my time. Used to do it with mom every year. Just leave it all to me."

He nodded soberly. "Alright. I'm sorry you won't be able to spend the holiday with your family."

She shrugged sadly as she thought about her sister spending Christmas without her, not knowing where she was. "It's alright. It's just been Lindsey and I at Christmas for a while…though last year her fiancée joined us, and that was a ball. I'm glad she'll have someone to spend it with this year."

"Do you think they've been married yet?"

She shook her head. "Oh, heck no. My sister is a horrible planner. Knowing her it'll be two or three years until they get hitched. At least."

He chuckled. "I knew a few people like that. Have you given much thought to marriage yourself?"

"Not much. Never had a reason to before."

He nodded. "I know what you mean. My parents were always so adamant about me settling down, starting a family…" he sighed.

"Do you want kids?" She asked casually.

He paused in the middle of unpacking his supplies, and Allena did a double take in her head. Was that an appropriate question? Was she putting him on the spot? Would he assume she…?

Argh. Not for the first time, she desperately wished she had a book on relationship etiquette.

He resumed unpacking. "Well, I'd never given it much thought before either, to be honest, but…I suppose the idea doesn't perturb me," he said cautiously. "Do you?"

She swallowed. "Well, like I said, I haven't given a lot of thought to relationship stuff, but…I mean, yeah, eventually." She had noticed herself paying a lot more attention to the little ones in strollers she passed in the park the last couple of years, striking up conversations with moms and offering congratulations. They all looked so darn happy.

Wilson nodded thoughtfully.

They sat down for dinner a while later – they mostly ate jerky now, fresh food being so hard to come by – and soon after they headed to bed.

As they sat down on their sleeping bags she felt Wilson roll over and move behind her, sliding an arm under her shoulder and bending over to kiss her cheek. She laid down on her back to look up at him, though as she did so she made sure to check herself. She'd vowed not to let herself get carried away again as she had the first time.

She needn't have bothered this time. His interests were clearly more measured tonight. He stroked her arm, now fully healed from her injury, and said, "You are quite well again, yes? You're feeling up to some festivities? If you aren't, we can delay…"

She shook her head and pulled him down for a kiss. He happily obliged. "I'm feeling wonderful," she replied when he surfaced. "And yourself? How have you been holding up? I know you've had to work hard while I've been recovering…"

He kissed her and said, "I'm quite alright. I've been keeping up the thermotherapy, which is doubly easy now that we don't need an endothermic fire to ice the eggs. Besides, there's somewhat less to do during winter. Mostly it's important to keep warm, dry, and well-fed."

She nodded. Conserving energy and body heat was vital during winter, as she'd learned. The harder they worked the faster they would go through their food supplies. Most days were just spent improving the base, repairing tools and appliances, and keeping everything clean and covered.

"Would you consider starting a family with me? Eventually, I mean?"

Her face colored profusely at Wilson's question. Talk about coming out of left field.

Without a moment's consideration she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Well, you'd certain make a good partner from a purely genetic standpoint. If I've ever met an evolutionary success, it's you."

His face lit up and he rolled back onto his own sleeping back cackling gleefully.

She covered her face with her hands. She could not believe she'd just said that.

He seemed extremely pleased with her answer, though. "An evolutionary success! Why, I don't think I've ever received a higher compliment!" And he started laughing again.

She groaned in absolute mortification and curled up in her sleeping bag. Stuffing her face into her pillow she mumbled exasperatedly, "Goodnight, Wilson."

She felt him roll over, brace an elbow beside her, lean down and place a kiss on the side of her head that was facing him. "Goodnight, my dearest. Sleep well – Christmas is tomorrow."

The corner of her mouth twitched up as he rolled back over to go to sleep. Christmas. She probably wasn't going to be dreaming of lollipops and sugar plums, but she sure was looking forward to it regardless.

* * *

Allena's eyes popped open the next morning as soon as the light of dawn began filtering through the cracks in the tent.

She sat bolt upright in bed to see that Wilson was absent. Curious, she pulled on her jacket and rolled out of bed.

As soon as she emerged from the tent she saw Wilson sitting by the fire, yawning profusely, looking half asleep. She went over and sat down next to him, also tired but grinning widely, nonetheless. "Merry Christmas," she said as she leaned over and hugged him.

He hugged her back with another yawn. "Muh…Muh…Merry Christmas," he managed.

The stove in front of them was warming a treat – beefalo sausages. It seemed that Wilson had saved some meat from the last hunt and was defrosting it for the holiday. Her mouth watered at the very thought. "Mmm. I see we have a treat for breakfast."

He nodded sleepily. "And there are more treats where that came from, whenever you're ready for presents."

She squealed excitedly and hopped up. "Presents! Presents! Oh, we always opened presents after breakfast, so I'll be patient. Merry Christmas, Chester!"

She saw their furry little friend just waking up and shaking the snow off his top. He never seemed to mind the cold or the wet, and half the time Allena covered him up beneath the lean-to before bed she found him sleeping in a snow drift the next morning, happy as a clam.

He bounced up to them and she scooched aside to let him in. He loved sitting between them, and while it drove Wilson mad she never minded at all. She wrapped an arm around him and scratched him between the horns. His tongue flopped contentedly as he panted.

They sat in silence for a while, waking up to the smell of beefalo-sausage. Seeing that it would take a while Allena stood up to check on the cooking supplies. "Do we have much butter left?" She asked Wilson.

"Mhm," he replied hazily. "Plenty. Use as much as you'd like."

She shifted a few things aside. "And salt?"

"Yes. Pepper, too."

She nodded to herself and began making a mental checklist of all the things she'd need to do to prepare for dinner. She knew she had all the basic implements ready – the crock pot would just barely fit the turkey, she had all she needed for some nice, buttery rolls, and she'd substitute carrots for potatoes and mash them up with gravy on the side. She thought that ought to work out alright.

She wrinkled her nose and asked, "Wilson, do you like stuffing?"

"Honestly, the idea of shoving seasoned bread in a bird's butt for several hours has never appealed to me."

She laughed. "Oh, thank goodness. I hate it, too."

She got the supplies ready and cleaned off a good cooking space while breakfast fried. At last Wilson called her over to eat.

As soon as he got some food in him he came to life in earnest. In the Constant, a hearty meal was just as good as a hot cup of coffee. Or tea, if you liked.

He stood up, stretched, and said, "Alright! What do you need help with? Plucking the turkey? Readying the crock pot? Washing the vegetables?"

She polished off her last sausage and said, "Why don't you help me with presents, first?"

He smacked his head. "Ah! Yes! One moment," he said as he rushed off to his workspace. She'd seen an oddly festive package tucked away in there while cleaning the previous day, and had left it uninvestigated. While he did that she set her plate down and went to her backpack.

They met at the fire and Wilson started at the sight of a package in her hands. "You got me something as well?"

"You didn't think I'd let you have all the fun, did you?" She wasn't sure when the change came about between liking to get presents and preferring to give them, but for quite a few years the most exciting part of the holiday for her was giving her sister – and more recently, her fiancée – their gifts.

He smiled sheepishly and handed her one of two packages, wrapped up in a large spider-silk handkerchief. "Yours first," he insisted.

She relented, sat down by the fire, and pulled the string that held the package closed. The folds dropped back to reveal…

She gasped as she picked up the gift. A pair of beautiful, soft, rabbit-fur gloves sat on the silk, and had even been embroidered with a simple vine-and-leaf motif.

She slipped them on to find they fit perfectly. "Oh, Wilson, they're wonderful. So warm, so comfortable! And they're beautiful! Thank you!"

He looked pleased, and she handed him his gift.

He, too, tugged at the string that held the rabbit-skin package together and when the edges flapped back his head tilted curiously. His eyes widened as he picked up the coils of rope.

She explained as he let it loose to drape over his arm. "Nine meters, tightly woven, reinforced with trace amounts of glue in the inner weave. I've been working on it in my off time for a while now."

He inspected it closely, weighed it, peered at the weave, and his eyes grew distant. "Oh, my. This is exactly what I needed."

She grinned when she saw his fingers start wiggling in anticipation. That was always a good sign, she knew. At last he carried the rope over to his work bench, looped it carefully around a sheltered hook on the wall, picked up a pencil and drew it across the third item on his long-term goals list with obvious relish.

_Rope, 7m, reinforced._

That done he turned around and returned, handing her his second gift – this one wrapped in a silk package small enough to fit in the palm of her hand.

Her curiosity sparked. After the gloves, what else could he have…?

She dumped the contents onto her hand and gasped.

It was a necklace. The chain was obviously solid gold, as was the setting of the gem that hung from it – a stone of stunning, sparking blue.

She held it up, scarcely aware that her mouth was hanging open. "Where did you…"

"I made it," he said hastily, nervously. "Do you like it?"

She slipped it around her neck. There was no clasp, so he'd simply made the chain large enough to go around her head. "It's more beautiful than anything I've ever owned," she said. And it was true. Though decent jewelry was cheap back home she'd never been particularly motivated to accessorize, so she'd never bought anything nice for herself.

It rested lightly against her sternum and seemed to reflect all the cold of winter without actually chilling her. On the contrary, though the stone itself was cold she felt quite warmed just having it. She couldn't believe Wilson had made it for her. For her, and no one else.

He stepped forward and wrapped her in yet another hug. That's what she loved about him. He liked hugs as much as she did. She positively squeezed him in gratitude, and he chuckled as she let him go. "Alright, then. Turkey?"

She nodded gleefully. "Turkey. Would you mind plucking it while I get everything ready?"

"Shall I decapitate it as well, my dearest?"

"If it isn't a bother. I can't stand to eat anything that still has a face. Have I told you about the time I dropped a fish head in my water glass at a fancy restaurant?"

They spent the next couple of hours readying the turkey. Once it was in the crock pot – lifting it was the only thing she absolutely needed Wilson's help with – she told him, "Alright, I think I've got everything else. Why don't you relax for a while? Work on your inventions. How is your eyeball project coming along?"

His desk was scattered with shiny golden parts, several of her tools, and various oddly carved pieces of wood. He winced. "Not as well as I'd hoped. It's almost ready for testing, but I get the feeling that the tallbird eye will not be sufficient."

"What?" She said indignantly. "Not sufficient? Those things were huge! And scary! And their eyeballs are huge! And scary! What more could this place's weird, contorted version of science possibly ask of you?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, if there's something out there with a larger eye than a tallbird's I'm not keen to meet it. That said, since this is a device that is meant to detect and shoot hounds I get the distinct feeling that whatever provides the primary material for it ought to be…ah…scarier than a pack of hounds."

She considered. By the Constant's standards that sounded reasonable. "Huh. Well, we'll see how it goes. Worst-case scenario, we've at least learned something new."

He cheered up a bit. "Quite! Failure is something to learn from, after all."

She nodded stoic agreement. That was something she took very seriously, and had encouraged him several times not to be discouraged by failure, simply to learn from it. He'd taken that to heart, and she'd found that he was less prone to moping when things went wrong, now.

He got back to work tinkering on his device while she got back to work fixing dinner. There were free periods when she could just sit back and rest as other things cooked, but she was basically in the kitchen on and off all day while Wilson scribbled and tinkered away at his table. She didn't mind in the slightest. She enjoyed cooking; the only thing that bothered her was when people pestered her while she was doing it.

The one thing that kept nagging at her that day was the lack of Christmas music. She missed the sound of the Christmas station playing all of her favorite songs in the background back home while she and her sister played games and talked. She couldn't use her iPod because she'd accidentally left it running passively a couple of weeks ago and drained the power, and had been using the limited solar battery power exclusively on the flashlight. Not much sunlight in winter, sadly.

She didn't want to be a bother to Wilson, but eventually the lack of musical cheer got to her, and she started to hum under her breath. While she was mixing up some dough for rolls she picked up a few words, and by the time she was kneading it she couldn't keep it in any longer.

_"God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing ye dismay!_

_Remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas day…"_

That was one of her favorites. It had a pleasing melody, and she could hit the notes well. She went through the whole song before moving onto a more upbeat tune – Sleigh Ride.

_"There's a birthday party at the home of farmer Grey,_

_It'll be the perfect ending of a perfect day…_

_It'll nearly be like a picture print by Currier and Ives…_

_These wonderful things are the things we'll remember all through our lives…"_

She finished with the rolls and turned to set them aside for the moment, intending to pop them into the over later, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Wilson leaning his head against his fist, staring at her, his papers forgotten. Clearly she'd distracted him.

"Sorry," she said as she broke off the song. "I didn't mean to bother you."

His eyes, which had been half closed, popped open. "Oh, no! Please, keep singing. I haven't heard such songs in ages, and your voice is stunning."

She felt a thrill at the compliment. She'd always loved singing, but she never, ever sang in front of anyone else. "R-really?" She asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Why have I never heard you sing before?"

She shrugged as she moved the rolls over to the spare table. "I never want to be a bother."

"You couldn't possibly. Do you know many other songs? Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, perhaps?"

She nodded and started singing.

He listened silently for a while as she tidied up her workspace, and eventually it seemed as though the Christmas bug got to him, too.

_"Hail the heav'nly Prince of Peace; hail the Son of Righteousness!_   
_Light and life to all he brings, risen by angelic wings._   
_Mild He lays his glory by, born that man no more may die…"_

_"Born to raise the sons of Earth, born to give them second birth…"_

Wilson had picked up the song, and now they finished together.

_"Hark, the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn king."_

His face flushed. "Forgive me. I know I haven't much of a voice…"

She grinned. "You sound fine," she said, and she meant it. "Are you a fan of Christmas music, then?"

"Honestly, it was always one of my favorite parts of the holiday. Do you know Silent Night?"

"Not very well, only the first few lines. How about, 'Mary, Did You Know'?"

"Oh, yes! It's been a decade, at least…"

The rest of the day was spent singing carols and hymns, reminiscing about good times, and discussing changing cultural norms. By early evening Allena decided it was time to check the turkey.

She looked to Wilson and asked, "Did you say you had a thermal measurer?"

He nodded. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"I need to check the temperature of the turkey."

"Ah, it's not that sort of measurer. I'm afraid you'll just have to wing it."

She shrugged and decided to let it bake for another hour to be on the safe side. In the meantime she set everything else up and readied the rest of the dishes.

Finally they pulled the turkey out, cut it up, and set the platter between them, and looked at the feast.

The turkey was done to perfection, and Allena had lathered it with a salt-and-pepper butter dressing beneath the skin to season it and keep it moist. Berry stores had gone into making some makeshift cranberry sauce, and the rolls had come out crispy golden-brown, if a bit burned around the edges. She'd whipped up some gravy with the turkey drippings and mashed up some boiled carrots, and they tasted pretty good together. A lot of the sugar had been frozen out of the veggies, so they actually tasted more like potatoes than she'd expected.

Wilson looked at all of this and shook his head. "Amazing. And to think, I considered stabbing you on sight when you first stole my tools."

"You did?"

"I did. Apologies for the sentiment."

"No problem. Shall we?"

He rubbed his hands together and nodded.

She paused before digging in. Her family had always said a prayer before eating at home, especially on holidays, and she knew it had been even more common back in his era. "Are you much one for saying Grace?"

He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked thoughtful. "I've fallen out of the habit myself, but yes, it was always tradition in my family. I'm afraid I've forgotten all of my parents' prayers, though."

She smiled. "I know the Lord's Prayer, though I haven't said it since my parents passed on. Should I…?"

"Please do."

As she began, the words felt strange in her mouth. But they came back to her quickly, and she didn't stutter over them. Although the recitation felt awkward – her parents had always led the table back home – it was also refreshing.

"…Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen."

"My, how touching. You'll forgive me if I don't join in?"

Chester began to whine. Every muscle in Wilson's body went tense, and he blinked open his eyes and looked up at the voice that had intruded upon their recitation.

Allena, too, looked around with a shudder. Maxwell stood, tall and elegant as always, in his snazzy grey winter coat, thick white ruff around the neck. He grinned down at them. "A Christmas feast! How long has it been since I've seen such a thing? Faith, hope, plenty, and cause for celebration…these things are rather scarce here in the Constant, as you can imagine." He said this with obviously feigned pity.

Allena stared at him, a ball of cold fear forming in the pit of her stomach. Wilson's hands were shaking with rage. "Get. Out. Of. My. Base," he said through gritted teeth.

Maxwell laughed. "Oh, dear. Quite territorial, aren't we? What's the matter – not fond of company? And after I was kind enough to gift you hers."

He nodded to her. "I could have sent her anywhere in the Constant, you know. But I saw you pining for a companion and thought to myself, 'hmm, why not do something nice for my poor old friend for a change? Perhaps he'll appreciate it and treat me more cordially in the future!'"

Wilson snarled, "Unlikely. I won't tell you again. Get out!"

He hopped up to fetch his spear, but Allena reached out to grab his hand.

She looked back at Maxwell and saw his shadow flickering against the wall behind him. Dusk had just fallen, and the firelight cast a clear silhouette. This time his shadow seemed quite normal, but it still reminded her of the strange and disconcerting visage she'd seen the last time they'd met.

Mastering her own frightened impulses, she looked imploringly at Wilson and glanced at his seat. _Let me handle this? Please?_

He clenched his teeth – but relented. He sat down.

She took a deep, stilling breath and said, "Maxwell, would you like to join us for dinner?"

Wilson blanched. Maxwell's eyebrows shot up so high they would have disappeared into his hairline if he'd had any bangs. "Me? Join you? And pray tell, what might I have done to merit such kindness – from you, at least?"

His dark eyes flashed, and the shadow of their bargain seemed to loom over her as much as the demon himself did.

Still, she shook her head. "It's Christmas," she said simply. "It's a time for selflessness and open doors. Besides, it isn't as though we don't have enough to go around."

He drew back slightly, eyes glinting menacingly, but the menace quickly gave way to suspicion, then confusion, and finally to a mere mild caution. "Very well…Miss Jones."

He stepped towards their fire. As he did so the glow seemed to diminish the shadows around him. He sat on the log across from them with a low hiss, as though sinking into a bath that was just a little bit too hot. The shadow on the wall far behind him grew darker, remaining at a distance.

Strange.

She looked over to see that Wilson looked apoplectic, and she felt a twinge of guilt. This was supposed to be a pleasant evening for both of them, and now…

She sighed. There was nothing for it. She reached for a plate, dished up a decent helping of everything, and passed it to Maxwell.

He looked at it for a moment as though waiting for something, then his brows furrowed and he glanced behind him, at his shadow. It sat against the wall, unmoving.

He cocked his head curiously and reached out to take the plate himself. "Much obliged," he said flatly.

Wilson growled.

Allena, hoping to move things along, started eating. Wilson did too, but kept glaring up at Maxwell.

Maxwell, for his part, picked sparingly at his food, inspecting each bite closely. He nibbled the turkey, a roll, and finally the mashed carrots and said, "Hmm. This isn't nearly as heinous as I'd expected. Tell me, Wilson; did your cooking skills improve, or has the lady of the house turned your normal scraps into something resembling an actual meal?"

Allena said nothing, but couldn't help but notice the demon's clipped tones.

Wilson snarled. "If you don't like it, you're welcome to get out of my base and crawl back into whatever pit of fire and damnation spat you out. I expect the rolls will be a bit burnt, though."

"Wilson," Allena said in a warning tone.

"More badly burnt than these, you mean? Still, better than the filth you're no doubt used to."

"Maxwell!" she snapped.

His gaze slid over to her, and she shivered.

She considered what to say to make him behave, and decided to play once more on the high value he seemed to place on civility. "It seems to me that the Constant may have taken its own toll on your manners. Or have you always been easily riled by petty insults?"

"Petty insults!?" Wilson said indignantly.

She gave him a warning look, and he fell silent with a pout.

Maxwell eyed her coldly, but relented. "My apologies. The meal is, of course, superb."

She dipped her head in polite acknowledgement. "Thank you. So, how have you been, Maxwell? You mentioned you've been working hard lately."

He stabbed a piece of turkey and dipped it in the mashed carrots and gravy. "Quite. That said, I'm thoroughly proud of my most recent accomplishment. It's taken me all winter, you know. How have your own…ah…plans been coming along?"

Allena felt a bit uneasy at Maxwell's glib mention of his recent endeavors, and she wondered what exactly he'd accomplished. "We're waiting for summer. More resources, better weather, you know."

That last was a lie. Hopefully if he thought their plans were set for summer, he would be less likely to notice them working all spring. He nodded absentmindedly as he took a bite of turkey. He swallowed and said, "How did you keep this meat form drying out?"

"Crock pot," Wilson grunted.

Maxwell glanced at him disdainfully. "Ah, yes, that's right. You do have some culinary standards, don't you?"

Wilson clamped his mouth shut, eyeing her as though to say, _look at me: polite, civil, and absolutely miserable. Are you happy?_

She shot him a helpless look in the hopes of conveying, _no, but at least we're miserable together, right?_

He glared at her and turned away. She really hoped he wouldn't stay upset over this.

"You know, I've never seen anyone celebrate Christmas in the Constant with as much enthusiasm as you two. No one else has even managed a feast, let alone decorations. The wreathes are quite a nice touch. Did you make them all yourself?"

Wilson rolled his eyes rudely. "No, we bought them at the store down the road."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming of you, Higgsbury."

Allena jumped in before Wilson could respond. "I made them while I was recovering. How is your pet doing, Maxwell?"

She was grasping at conversational straws here, and it looked like that wasn't the best one. "Hungry," he snapped. "Everyone I've sent him after has managed to get away. Hence my latest project."

She was glad to hear that Varg hadn't managed to eat anyone. Still, she gulped. "I take it you're still interested in…uh…spring cleaning?"

He nodded, setting his eating utensils down and inspecting the nails on his right hand. "Quite. I expect my new project to have quite an impact when I let it loose. Perhaps if you aren't busy next week–"  
He faltered and clamped his teeth down on his tongue.

For the first time, Wilson took an active interest in the conversation. "Sorry, what was that about next week? And your new 'project'?"

The shadows behind Maxwell jittered angrily. His eyes slid slowly over her to Wilson. "That. Is none of your concern."

Allena opened her mouth to speak, but Maxwell stood up and brushed off some non-existent particles of dust. "Well, I think I've kept you long enough. And I have a few other people to visit tonight. If you'll to excuse me…"

As he stood up and stepped back his shadows seemed to return to him, slinking off the wall and pooling at his feet. "My thanks for the meal and…pleasant…conversation," he said to her while pointedly ignoring Wilson. "You'll forgive me if I don't have anything to gift you in return–"

Looking at the heaping piles of leftovers, she got an idea. "Say, actually, you said you were visiting a few more people tonight, right?"

He paused. "Yes," he said shortly. "Why?"

"And that no one else had quite managed a feast for Christmas?"

He glared at her. "Yes," he repeated impatiently. "Why?"

Allena hopped up and went over to their store of dishes. She grabbed half a dozen spare plates and returned to the fire to heap them with piles of hot, steaming food, putting particular emphasis on the turkey. "We really have more than we can eat here. The turkey will probably go bad before we finish it all. Would you bring some to the other survivors here?"

Maxwell made a disgusted noise. "Do I look like a waiter to you?"

She balanced the six plates carefully on her outstretched arms and held them out over Maxwell's shadow. "Since we were kind enough to invite you to dinner, it seems to me that it would be appropriate to repay that kindness by distributing some of the bounty to the other survivors in the Constant. And I know that you're the type of man who always repays his debts."

Maxwell stood as though frozen, staring at her. Finally, however, he relented, and his shadowy hands rose up to take the plates from Allena's aching arms. "Very well. I suppose I know one or two people who might appreciate a hot meal. Goodnight, Miss Jones." He glanced at Wilson. "Higgsbury," he spat vocally.

Wilson just plain spat.

Apparently being spat at was the last straw for him, and with a final disgusted look at Wilson, he sank into the ground.

Wilson picked up his plate and started shoveling food into his mouth. Allena ate more slowly, enjoying the meal a fair bit more now that Maxwell was gone.

She was going to ask Wilson if he wanted more cranberry sauce – he'd finished his very quickly – but when she opened her mouth he stood up and whipped around. His shoulders were tense and raised. He was angry.

She considered just letting him cool off by himself, but she wasn't entirely sure where his anger was aimed. She tried for conversation. "Sorry about that. I know you don't like having him around. Still, at least he left without causing trouble, right?"

He made a harsh noise, one that suggested he didn't quite concur. He went to the washbasin and started cleaning his plate. He'd mixed in salt so the water wouldn't freeze, but that also meant it was literally colder than ice. Not very pleasant.

She tried again. "He didn't conjure up his Varg, or any of his hounds. That's something."

Again, Wilson replied with a harsh noise that left little room for continued conversation. She sighed and picked up her plate. She wasn't hungry anymore, but she downed the rest of her food quickly and took it to the wash basin.

As she reached over to rinse her own plate he grabbed it roughly out of her hand, causing her to flinch.

He was livid.

Her spirit plummeted. She'd wanted to make this evening really great. Now he was more upset than he'd been in months.

She waited for him to finish washing the dishes then, when he set them down, reached out and touched his shoulder. "Wilson, I–"

He jerked his shoulder away from her and clenched his fists. Without a word to her he stormed over to his worktable and sat down. He grabbed a piece of paper and pencil, but didn't seem to have anything to write.

She looked after him helplessly. "Wilson, I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I just didn't want to risk making Maxwell angry. And the last time I was polite –"

"The last time you were polite, Maxwell decided that he needed to do some 'spring cleaning,' and now he seems to have invented some sort of killing machine that he intends to unleash on the Constant next week. The last time you were polite, his pet showed up, scouted out our base, and got a good long whiff of you! Now I need to finish jury-rigging a weapon that will stand some chance of protecting us from that thing so you don't get killed!"

He said this in as spiteful a voice as she'd ever heard, and it hit her like a blow to the stomach. "I…I'm sorry Wilson, I didn't mean –"

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "You didn't mean to heap yet another burden on my shoulders? Well, it isn't as though I'm not used to it. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He turned back to his worktable and grabbed his tools and papers. This time he actually seemed to have something to write about, and started jotting down notes and measuring the various materials at his desk.

There was no point in trying to continue the conversation. She turned away and started cleaning.

She felt sick to her stomach. Another burden. She'd been trying so hard not to be, she'd sworn she wouldn't be. Was he just overreacting, or had she been more trouble than she'd realized?

She thought about it. All the hard work he'd had to put in over fall to ensure they both had enough to eat for winter; the multiple injuries she'd sustained, that he'd had to take care of her through while also taking care of himself and the base; all the basic implements he'd made for her, from a simple spear to the lean-to that now usually housed Chester.

Her heart sank further and further as she catalogued everything he'd done for her. True, she'd done a great deal for him in return – she'd given him tools and supplies that could advance his scientific endeavors; she'd spent days, weeks gathering and refining basic materials to give him more time to work; she'd kept the base clean and organized ever since she'd come.

Still, that didn't change the fact that Wilson had been working harder than he'd had to before she'd arrived. She knew that much from comparing all that she'd learned from watching him during her first two weeks to all she'd seen from him since she'd moved in.

She finished cleaning up the remaining cooking supplies and putting the leftovers away. She wondered if he was also upset about her giving away so much of their food. She'd hardly decimated their feast – a third of everything, at the very most – but she had still done it on a complete impulse. She'd just wanted the other people in this world to have a nice Christmas. Especially if she was the reason they might be facing some Maxwellian killing machine next week.

Wilson was still hunched over at his desk working furiously. He showed no signs of calming down or wanting to talk.

With nothing else to do she just stood there until she realized that her eyes were stinging, badly. She rubbed them.

Ugh. Why did Maxwell have to show up?

It was still early by their standards despite it being solidly dark. Too early for bed. She pulled out her journal and wrote in it for a while, then returned it to her pack. Chester was snoozing beside the tent and she walked up to him and gave him a pat. He didn't get up, but rumbled contentedly as she scratched him.

Wilson was still working.

She gave up and went into the tent, curling up in her sleeping bag and waiting for sleep. She knew it would be a long time coming.

Sure enough, she was still awake about two hours later when she heard Wilson stand up and shove his chair into his table roughly. She lay still, listening to him move around the camp and get ready for bed, and once he'd stocked the fire up he came to the tent.

A rush of cold winter air entered with him and she forced herself not to curl up tighter. Instead she pretended to be asleep. Even if he was interested in conversation by then she didn't want to talk with him. She could feel the tension radiating off of him like cold from an ice hound.

She heard him sit down on his sleeping bag and ready for bed, but he sat silently for a couple of minutes. At last he seemed to shift around and she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

She said nothing. She feigned sleep. She didn't want to talk.

His hand lingered for a moment, then gently tapped her. She stayed still.

His hand traveled to her neck and she felt him check her pulse – which she knew was pounding just then.

He made a disgusted sound and rolled over heavily, settling into his sleeping bag. Guilt clawed at her and she said, "Wilson, do you want to talk?"

Silence.

She waited for a few minutes to see if he would say anything. He didn't.

She settled down to go to sleep.


	17. A Casual Hike

Allena woke up the next morning feeling very lonely.

This was only partly because the bitter end to the previous day had left her feeling emotionally isolated and estranged. The other reason was that the camp was empty, and Wilson had evidently taken Chester along wherever he'd gone.

She sighed. The base was spotless, their resources were stocked up and neatly stacked, and everything that required regular maintenance had been taken care of in the last few days. What to do?  
She could take down the Christmas decorations, but the idea made her feel depressed. She'd leave them up for a few days.

Looking around the camp was making her feel even more depressed. There was nothing for her here, not today. Perhaps she'd go for a hike?

Yes, that's what she'd do. Use up some of her restless energy. That said, she wasn't about to go walking around in a random direction, so she pulled out Wilson's atlas and scanned it for notable landmarks.

The tallfort was as far as she'd been, and she had no intention of going that way. No, she'd try somewhere else.

It looked like Wilson had spawned into this world about thirty miles to the southeast and had spent a long while exploring the region he'd started in. She could see why he'd left it for a more hospitable place – the nice patch of greenery he'd started on was surrounded by a spider-infested forest, a desert, a tallfort, and a giant swamp. There wasn't much else there for him.

That region was basically a peninsula that connected to the rest of the world via a long birch forest. In the center of this forest was a clearing with several small houses drawn in, and a picture of a pig with a crown, surrounded by black spikes, in the middle. Wait, had Wilson been serious about the pig-king?

Nah. No way.

She looked at the rest of the map. The two of them were also on what basically amounted to a peninsula, though the east side was a mountain range that Wilson hadn't been able to scale. To the north was ocean, to the west was their island – then ocean. Nothing else near here.

Directly south was the swamp, the forest, the tallfort, and a great deal of unexplored land.

A large branch had been explored to the southwest, well past the tallfort, but the area straight to the south was largely untouched. That was lightly titled, in pencil, 'expedition, s-4.' What was s-4? Spring four? This coming spring, maybe?

Well, whatever the case…it looked appealing.

It was only about six miles away as the crow flies. It extended past the last piece of valuable land Wilson had found in this region – the plains that boasted the beefalo herd. Beyond that was a big unknown.

"Hmm," she pondered as she looked at the map. It would take her a few hours to hike to the beefalo herd – but she could probably manage to hike a good mile or two past it before needing to turn around and head home. Of course, if she got stuck out there…

She hrmph'd. If she got stuck or lost, she'd be fine. Wilson had taught her how to survive on her own for a few nights with only the most basic provisions. She'd bring quite a bit more with her.

She nodded and decided that's what she would do. She'd go out and explore a bit. Maybe when she got back, Wilson would feel a bit more talkative.

Her spirits lifted at the thought. There was no way he'd still be angry with her after a whole day to cool off. She could already imagine her return. She'd tell him about whatever she'd seen, and they'd have fun trying to translate her geographically challenged impressions into something that actually made sense on a map. She was horrible with geography; she had no natural sense of direction, she couldn't gauge distance for her life, and as far as she was concerned, the world was two-dimensional. Elevation did not exist, and unless it was a sheer cliff or a deep canyon she would not be able to provide anything like what Wilson looked for when drawing in elevation lines.

That settled, she packed up her things and got ready to go.

She put two days' worth of beefalo-jerky rations in her pack and scarfed down a huge helping of leftovers, using the fire to warm up a thermal stone. She grabbed a compass, her flashlight and phone – fully charged, complete with a picture of Wilson's atlas – packed everything she'd need for a night in the open (axe, flint, grass mat and extra blanket), threw some raw materials into her bag, and readied herself to leave.

The last thing she did was write Wilson a note explaining where she'd gone so he wouldn't be worried, and put on her new rabbit-fur gloves. She still had her necklace on – she'd accidentally worn it to bed last night.

As a final thought she grabbed the spear off the wall and slung it over her back. She normally didn't take it with her when she went out, but she didn't want to risk running into a spider without it.  
That done she took off on her trek.

She was half-hoping to see Wilson on her way out of base or through the forest, but no luck. Wherever he was, it wasn't here. With a suppressed twinge of disappointment, she continued south.

The day was surprisingly bright and beautiful. Snowbirds lit on branches and pecked for food beneath the snow. The ground was blanketed thickly everywhere the open sky touched, though the coniferous forests were only lightly dusted, and clear around the trunks.

She made her way past tall trees and between low shrubs, taking her time, not straining herself. She would take care to make it back well before dark, but even at a slow pace she ought to be able to map out a decent chunk of land.

The hike was uneventful. It took her longer than expected to reach the beefalo fields, what with her not factoring in elevation, but she reached the edge of the icy white plains around noon.

She was fairly tired and decided to rest on the edge of the field and have some lunch before setting off again. As she looked about she saw a few snow-covered boulders right by the tree line, and decided to sit against these. Maybe she'd get a glimpse of the beefalo.

She picked out the largest rock, slung her pack off, and pulled out some jerky.

She munched down her lunch, drank a bit of water, pulled out her thermal stone and rolled it around in her hands a bit, then leaned against the rock to rest before setting off again.

The rock moved.

She flung herself forward and turned, grabbed her pack and spear, and stumbled away as the snow roiled and shifted. The crumbling coat revealed two huge, curved horns; massive, pale, fuzzy shoulders; a tufted tail; and finally, a very large, very hairy head.

The beefalo shook the remaining snow off of itself and let out a low bellow. At the sound the remaining boulders all began to shake off their snowy cover as well. In a matter of moments Allena was surrounded by the slow, hairy giants.

She gulped. Wilson had told her on multiple occasions how dangerous beefalo were when they got angry. Was her proximity enough to rile them?

The huge one, clearly the herd leader, turned slowly around to look at her. It raised its head, round white eyes gazing down at her.

Allena recalled that, among other things, she had packed a fair amount of dried grass in case she needed to whip up an emergency rope. She set her backpack down slowly, undid the zipper, and reached in.

The beefalo lowered its head, grunting cautiously at her. Its hoof pawed the ground. It didn't look altogether happy.

Carefully, she rooted around in her bag until she found it – a large tuft of grass. She pulled this out and the beefalo paused. Tentatively, she held out the tuft of grass. The beefalo's eyes widened.

"Ah!" She exclaimed as it lunged forward suddenly.

It grabbed the grass out of her hand and munched it down as she plopped backwards into the snow. Then it let out another bellow, this one considerably more mellow, and stared at her expectantly.  
She swallowed and pulled out another handful of grass. It stepped forward and ate this as well.

Whew. Looked like it was happy. Still, she wasn't about to test that, so she stood up and put her pack back on. "Sorry, buddy, I need the rest of it. I'll bring some back for you if I come across it."

The low moan it responded with sounded remarkably like a sigh of disappointment, and she giggled. She would leave killing these things to Wilson. They were too cute for her.

She turned to continue on her way only to discover that the beefalo had decided to follow her, and with it, the rest of its herd. This was disconcerting at first, but they didn't try to headbutt her or nibble her pack, so she decided to just be grateful for the company. Besides, Wilson had said that beefalo make for excellent protection. They'd taken down entire hound packs for him in the past.

Reinvigorated by her snack, rest, and new company, she continued southward.

It took her another hour to reach the end of the beefalo field, at which point it was almost noon. Before her was more coniferous forest, and unless she was mistaken…

She pulled out the atlas on her phone and looked at the surrounding area. Even as geographically challenged as she was, it was clear that this was the end of what Wilson had explored in this direction. She turned back to her beefalo friends to see that they had paused at the edge of the field and were rooting around for grass. It looked like the trees had shielded the edge of the field from the worst of the snow, so it was easier for them to get at what sustenance could be found underneath. They were dusting back the crust and grunting happily as they ate.

She smiled. "Bye, guys. Thanks for the escort!"

The big one glanced up and bellowed. She bellowed back and it looked at her, briefly surprised, before returning to its newly-found food.

She turned to the forest, braced herself for the thrill of discovery, and started hiking.

There wasn't a whole lot to see for the first hour and a half. Just more forest, not unlike the ones back home. She did see a few berry bushes, but they'd been picked clean by the turkeys living in them. She tried chasing one with her spear, but it was a no-go. Darn things were too fast.

Eventually she came to a break in the forest. A wide strip of open, snowy land stretched before her, and going by the tall-ish, snowy mounds sticking out here and there she'd say it was rockland. The mounds were too small to be beefalo this time. Boulders, no doubt.

The field was only about fifty feet wide. On the other side of it lay another forest, but this one was full of dead, pale trees. Birch, maybe?

She licked her lips in anticipation. Wilson had said that one could sometimes find a decent supply of birch nuts beneath these, even in winter. She'd never been fond of them, but maybe she could bring some back for him?

She looked left and right. To her left – east – she could see the ocean maybe half a mile away at the end of the strip. She thought she saw small black shapes moving around near the edge of the landmass, probably animals, and she decided to avoid it unless absolutely necessary. Curiosity wasn't worth the risk of attack.

Deciding to just keep heading straight, she started across the rocky strip. As she got to one of the mounds she thought it might be a good idea to check and see if there were any strips of gold in the boulder – Wilson would love to have a new gold vein.

She brushed some snow back and her heart lifted – but only for a moment. The bit she'd dusted away was certainly as yellow as gold, but it looked…wrong. It lacked luster.

Her head tilted curiously and she dug her fingers into the snow and heaved a whole sheet off of what turned out to be a giant beehive.

She summed up her reaction to the find with a succinct vocalization. "Uh. Uh. Ugh. Ugh."

Wilson had told her how dangerous these were. Of the few things that had very nearly killed him over the years a swarm of killer bees was one of them. Even now she started to hear the low humming that had been muffled by the snow.

There was movement at one of the holes in the hive. Snow was poked out and a small, insectoid head emerged.

Holy crap. This wasn't a normal bee. This thing was the size of a sparrow and had four empty white eyes.

It came out to walk around the outside, and she saw that its body was yellow. She didn't move. Wilson had told her that the yellow ones were only worker bees, and it was the red ones – the killer bees – that she really had to watch out for. Still, if she startled this thing it would alert the hive, and if that happened…

She sat perfectly still as its wings hummed briefly, then again, and it finally jumped off the hive – onto her shirt.

She shivered, but remained still. It wasn't attacking – it was inspecting her brightly-colored necklace.

She looked down at her chest. The stinger was as long as her pinky finger and as sharp as an awl. If it stung her it wouldn't be deadly, but it would be agonizing.

_Please go back home. Please go back to sleep!_

It examined the necklace. Its little tongue came out to taste it – but drew back as it felt the gem's coldness.

It came to the conclusion that her necklace wasn't food. It buzzed its wings again and leaped back off of her onto the hive. It crawled back up to the hole and vanished inside.

She waited another moment to see if any more would emerge, then backed away. This wasn't a field of boulders. This was a field of sweet, bumbling death.

She looked around and counted at least a dozen of these things. Some were shaped a bit oddly, taller and narrower, while others were shaped like this one, totally rounded.

She wasn't about to go poking at more of them, but she was curious about the turf beneath her. Where there were bees there were usually…

She brushed a fair bit of snow away and was immediately rewarded. Flowers!

She grinned. Wilson would be thrilled.

She didn't want to take too many, but she did wander around and gather up maybe a dozen. They were mostly the same kind, one she hadn't seen before, a soft white lily-like flower. Evidently flowers didn't die during winter, new ones just didn't grow. It was weird, but she wasn't complaining.

After some time spent on her cautious harvest she turned to the birch forest and decided to do a bit more exploring. She carefully packed the flowers away and departed.

The bare birch trees reminded her of the white-bark birches that had grown in her front yard in her childhood, before a storm had felled two and compelled her parents to chop down the rest for safety reasons. They were all bare, their pale branches covered in nothing but snow.

She checked beneath the largest ones for seeds and actually managed to find a few, sticking them in her pockets whenever she did.

As she walked she heard something disturbing – a high, rude, screeching wail. Tallbirds.

Although this wasn't the most pleasant thing to hear, it also wasn't particularly alarming. It sounded like it was coming from a fair ways away, somewhere to the west. She'd dealt with them enough to know how to avoid them if she did run across them, but that wasn't likely. She kept walking, ear to the wind for more of the cries.

Eventually she came to a fairly large clearing edged by an inlet. Waves sloshed up against the rocky drop-off, showering the snow with sprinkles of water that froze the moment they hit the ground, resulting in a large crust of ice along the edge. Interestingly, it seemed that someone was using this thin, sea-salty ice bank rather productively.

Large chunks of meat had been packed into the ice for storage, and it was fairly clear that the area was being used as a hunting ground by someone. An igloo sat just in front of the ice pack.  
There was someone else here.

She stepped just out of the tree line to get a better look and incidentally stepped on a branch that was hidden just beneath the snow. The crack wasn't loud, but it was loud enough to wake up the igloo's guard.

An ice hound, previously hidden beneath the snow, rose up. It shook its white, dusty cover off of its head and twisted around to look at the source of the noise.

Allena's eyes widened and she prepared to run, but the hound did nothing. It simply sat there, lips twitching, and stared at her.

This was strange. Normally hounds tore straight after anyone they saw. Why wasn't this one?

Its ears were rotating, and every now and then it would turn about and look around, taking care not to step on…

Oh! The meat! It must have been a guard dog. Naturally it would be trained not to leave its post, even to pursue likely prey.

Allena scanned the area to see if she could find anyone, but there was no one else around. Perhaps whoever lived here had gone hunting?

She turned to the west. The tallbird screeching had been coming from that direction. If the hunters didn't know about the beefalo herd to the north, then tallbirds would probably be their best bet. She could probably find them if she put her mind to it…but would that be wise?

She considered, torn between excitement and trepidation. Honestly, she'd already discovered enough to make a decent dent on the map. She probably didn't need any more. But she really wanted to know who else was out here!

Of course there was a chance that they were dangerous, but…

She chewed on her lower lip, glancing back at the hound every now and then to make sure it was staying still. Whoever was out here could train those monsters. Perhaps they could tell her how? That would certainly be an invaluable skill.

And it could take some of the burden of protecting her off of Wilson's back.

She readjusted her pack on her shoulder and nodded to herself. She would see if she couldn't find these hound-taming hunters. Besides, the Constant was a lonely place to live in. Whoever was out here would probably be glad of some company.

She set off along the edge of the clearing until it turned back into forest, then kept marching in the direction she thought she'd heard the tallbird screeches coming from. It didn't take long to find the source.

A wide, rocky plain stretched before her. She knew this was, in fact, a rocky plain this time, because the boulders actually stuck out of the snow enough for her to see that they weren't beehives or beefalo. What's more, a handful of tallbirds were strutting around the area.

Allena could see at once that the hunters had been targeting the flock for a while, because the six she could see had gathered up into a circle like the ones she and Wilson had hunted down had. Their nests were clear of snow and she could see that none of them contained any eggs. Stolen or hatched, she couldn't know.

There were three of them standing on the edge of their fort, screeching at a rather gristly sight. A pair of hounds had caught a tallbird and were dragging it by the legs away from its kin.

She hung back by the trees, waiting to see what would happen. Were these hounds wild, or…?

Nope. Not wild. They had owners, and Allena's mouth dropped open in shock when she saw them.

Wilson had never described these denizens of the Constant to her; she knew she would have remembered if he had, and would definitely have dismissed them as readily as the pig-people. What came stepping out from behind a boulder to approach the fallen prey was what looked to be a pair of sentient, Scottish walruses.

She said Scottish because they were wearing green-and-red plaid kilts and sashes, and the larger one of the pair had a similarly colored tam o'shanter, as well as a highly sophisticated monocle. They were hulking, pale-brown skinned humanoids with bushy mustaches and long white tusks.

They approached the tallbird and the larger one started to gesture. Allena could hear low, garbled, grunting speech from where she was, though no distinguishable words. He seemed to be lecturing the smaller one.

The hounds had maimed the tallbird's legs to the point where they could safely go for its head, and they did this with savage efficiency. She watched in fascination as they darted in and out, taking it in turns to worry at the thrashing creature until it was dead.

She assumed that the walrus people would step up to butcher it, but when she dragged her eyes away from the hounds she saw something that caused the hair to go up all across her body.

The duo had spotted her, and was peering at her curiously.

Uh, oh.

What should she do? Run? Approach? Stay still? The hounds were still gnawing at the tallbird. Would they go for her when they were done? Would they stay with the walruses?

The walrus people started to make their way over to her, and she decided to hold her ground. If she walked up to them they might take that as a sign of hostility, but she didn't want to run away either. She stepped out from behind her tree and waited.

They paused about twenty feet away from her. The large one narrowed its eyes. Like most of the other creatures she'd seen in this world, they were pure, glassy white.

The younger one seemed curious, maybe even excited, and she tried a smile and a wave. It looked up at the larger one – its father, maybe? – and started saying something to him, flipper hand gesturing wildly at her.

It didn't seem upset. That was good.

The older one said something back, adjusted its monocle, then nodded at him. He took a few steps back and made a low waving gesture with his finny appendage that even Allena could translate: _Go right ahead._

The younger one barked excitedly and pulled something out of a small pouch on his waist, raising it to his face.

It took Allena only a moment to figure out what it was – which gave her the split-second she needed to react.

_Fwit!_

Panic shot through her and she threw herself to the side just as the dart streaked by her. These things weren't friendly hunters.

They were just hunters.

She turned and ran, immeasurably grateful that she'd packed so light. She heard the young one holler in dismay, and then there was a crunching of snow as they began the pursuit.

She heard the lower grunt of the older one, and glanced back just in time to see the younger one reloading. She swerved to put a tree behind them and heard him bark frustratedly again. The older one replied – and a moment later another dart flew by her head. The only reason it had missed her head was because she'd stumbled over a hidden tree root.

Oh, man. This was bad. The older one was shooting now, too, and his dart had been shot with lethal speed. It would have pierced her skull had it hit, probably. Sheer luck had caused it to miss. What was she supposed to do?

She could outrun them, that was clear. Their thick, stubby legs would carry them far, but not fast. But she needed to stay half-turned to keep them in her sight if she wanted to dodge the darts, and she couldn't put on enough speed to lose them like that. Get ahead and risk getting shot, or play it safe and hope they gave up?

A moment later she heard something that took the choice away. The larger one barked an order, and the smaller one lifted a whistle from around its neck and blew.

The baying of hounds sounded from the clearing behind them, and Allena knew that a dead sprint was her only chance.

She waited for the young one to shoot another dart at her – she dodged it, and the older one barked out a harsh reprimand – and with that she turned, ducked her head, and put on every ounce of speed she could manage.

She couldn't see them, so it would be up to luck not to get shot. She ran for about three seconds then juked wildly to the right. Good call – a dart flew by and buried itself in the snow beside her. They couldn't hit her head or back because her backpack was armoring her, so they were going for her legs. She continued sprinting, trying to put trees between herself and them as often as possible while still maximizing speed. If she could just get out of range…

She swerved left and felt a dart strike true – almost. It had hit a fold in the pants on the edge of her knee, just half a centimeter off, and dangled there. The joyful cry of the younger one turned into a groan of disappointment as it realized that the dart hadn't quite made its mark.

On the other hand, it wasn't a total loss for them, either. The tip just barely scratched her as she ran, but even that tiny scratch – not much more than what one would get from an ornery kitten – was enough. A burning pain started to creep across her leg, and she knew the darts were poisoned.

She dodged randomly one more time, and with another miss – _fwit!_ – she was clear. No more darts were fired – she was too far away.

Now she had only to deal with the hounds.

They were catching up rapidly, and within a minute of leaving behind the walrus people she heard the baying. By the volume, they couldn't have been more than fifty feet behind her.

She put on more speed, but she wasn't sure how she could expect to lose them. Her heart was hammering, her leg was burning, her breath was whistling in her throat, and she knew she couldn't keep the sprint up forever.

Though the sun was still fairly high and the trees were bare enough to cast little shade, she suddenly found herself in shadow. _Huh?_

She looked up to see that she was in the shade of a tall, rocky cliff. She hadn't seen it on her hike in, so she must have gone pretty far off-course. It looked like the edge of a plateau.

There was nothing ahead of her but birch trees. No help to be had there. If the cliffs were climbable, or if there was a cave, or tall boulder she could scrabble up, she may be able to…

What? Get shot to death instead of torn apart? The walruses would catch up eventually.

There was nothing for it. It's not like things could get any worse for her. She turned and ran for the cliffs, and by the excited barking she heard it sounded like the hounds had just caught sight of her.

Before her was a long line of berry bushes that seemed to be surrounding a clearing in front of the cliff. She hopped over these…

And realized that things probably had just gotten worse for her.

She'd run into a positive stronghold of spider nests. Seven - no, eight at a glance, and possible more further down the cliffs. They were all dormant, but she knew that if she made one wrong step she'd be in the middle of a hurricane of legs and fangs.

Spiders in front of her. Hounds behind her. Was there nowhere she could go? Nothing she could do?

_The next time you die, you will stay with me…_

Then she saw it. There was a cave in the cliff wall, and it seemed to at least be immediately clear of webs. Maybe spiders didn't like caves? Maybe she could hide in there? But no, even if she made it without waking the spiders, the hounds would run right in after her.

A wild idea formed in her head. Wilson had told her about tricking the hounds into attacking the beefalo.

What if she could trick them into attacking the spiders?

The bushes she'd leapt over were tall enough that the hounds wouldn't be able to see what was on the other side of them. They were almost on her, so she had only a moment to act.

She stepped very carefully to avoid the nettings of web on the ground that would alert her eight-legged friends. She positioned herself so a spider nest was between herself and the shrubs, the cave right behind her, and she let out a loud whistle. "Here, boys! C'mere! Come on, aren't cha hungry? Come and get it!"

A couple of nests around her shivered at the noise. She whistled and few more times and heard the barking grow frantically excited. A moment later a hound leaped from behind a bush and dove headfirst…into the nest.

She watched, frightened and ecstatic, as its entire head sank into the webbing. Its howl turned into a yelp. Its paws began scrabbling backwards as it frantically tried to extract itself.

After a moment of stillness the entire nest exploded with rage.

_TSSSSSACH!_

Spiders began pouring out of the nest, dozens of eyes locked on the hound, and they all swarmed the now-screaming beast.

The second one followed it into the clearing but stopped upon seeing what had become of its friend. It began whining in fearful confusion, and paced back and forth a few feet away from the turmoil.

The caught one struggled and writhed as Allena backed slowly towards the cave. All of the nests around her were beginning to shiver with the noise, and she knew she needed to get out of sight before their inhabitants emerged.

The walruses stepped out of the bush, panting slightly, and the young one pointed at the now-dying hound with a horrified wail. The beast was just barely visible beneath the tangle of black bodies, and its back legs were twitching frantically. The older walrus looked at the situation in absolute shock. Then its eyes trailed up to her where she stood behind the nest, and lit with understanding.

Its lips curled back from its tusks and its white eyes flickered with rage. It lifted its blowgun and took aim at her.

Her stomach dropped. There was no way she could dodge this one.

Suddenly, a tiger-spider – one of the black and yellow ones – exploded from the nest. It lunged for the cowering hound and latched onto it. It yelped.

The large walrus saw this, took a deep breath, and at the last moment twisted its head away from her and shot the tiger spider, which drew back at once with a hiss. Apparently the hunter was more interested in saving its remaining pet than killing her. It reached forward with a massive bellow and grabbed the hound by the scruff, yanking it backwards and turning to run.

There was a burst of icy energy as the covered hound died, covering the spiders in a thin layer of white frost. The younger one followed its mentor after a last, miserable look at the dead hound, which was now being torn to pieces by the chilled, maddened, and ravenous arachnids.

With a final, stifled gasp, she stumbled backwards into the cave as the world around her erupted into spiders.

* * *

She stepped backwards until she hit a wall. She was now totally submerged in darkness, and happily felt no webs around her. Outside she could see the spiders swarming after the fleeing hunting party, and it seemed none of them had seen her.

She stood unmoving for an indeterminable amount of time. She would need to remain there until the spiders returned to their nests, and from what she knew of them that could take anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. Though with this many nests, this many spiders, it could take even longer.

She resolved to stand still until the coast was clear. If any of them noticed her, she would be dead before she could regain the cave entrance.

The spiders rushed back and forth outside the cave. Sometimes she would see one skitter by with a chunk of white fur in its mouth, or a red strip of flesh, and others would dash by trying to steal it. She was fine with this so long as it kept them distracted from the tasty snack standing fifteen feet away from them.

As she stood there she wondered how large this cave was, and why the spiders hadn't infested it. They liked the dark, and they'd had no qualms about setting up camp right in front of it. Why not come in out of the cold?

Unless –

"Oh…? Something in our cave…? Something nice and warm and _living?"_

She would have thought that, having lived in the Constant for so many months by then, she'd have gotten used to jump scares.

Nope.

She had to force herself not to move. Whatever was in here with her couldn't possibly be worse than the spiders outside. She stood still and prayed it didn't know exactly where she was.

Her hopes were dashed almost immediately, and she bit back a scream as something that felt suspiciously like a spider's leg prodded her shoulder. Sentient pigs, sentient walruses – were there sentient spiders, too?

She cringed slightly away from the questioning limb and it began poking her repeatedly. "What kind of thing is this in our cave? It doesn't move, it doesn't speak. Is it alive?"

She caught her breath a bit and said, very quietly, "Yes, I'm alive. Who are you?"

The thing trilled excitedly. "Oh, it _is_ alive! And it does speak! What is it, what _is_ it?"

It sounded like a child shaking a Christmas package, desperate to know what was inside. She decided to answer simply and straightforwardly. "I'm a human. I've been stuck here in the Constant for a few months. What are you?"

"What are we?" It asked curiously. "We are us. What else?"

"Um," she replied. This thing seemed to be a bit conversationally challenged. "Do you have a name?"

Silence.

Then, "We had a name. We don't remember it now. Does it have a name, this human in our cave?"

"Allena Jones. Pleased to meet you."

She was still talking softly to avoid alerting the spiders outside, but to her horror she saw one of them poke its head into the cave. It was carrying a large chunk of meat in its mouth, and it crawled in slowly, pausing just a few feet in, silhouetted by the entrance.

The thing she was talking to stopped poking her and approached the spider, and as it did she got a look at its silhouette as well.

It was humanoid, but it looked like it had four long, crooked legs poking out of its head. She guessed that's what it had been prodding her with. It reached down to take the chunk of meat from the spider, which deposited it gently in the spider-person's hand, and skittered back out of the cave without further ado.

The spider-person (she would not call it a spider-man, no matter how vaguely male-sounding its voice was) stood up and wandered back over to her. It now stood in front of her, blocking the light from the entrance.

"Is it hungry? Does it want some doggie meat? We don't mind, it will just go in its stomach. We can get it back later. We don't mind stomach juicies."

What? Get it back later? Stomach juicies?

Oh, crap.

She trembled, tongue tying as she registered the implication of what he'd just said. "N-n-no thanks. I'm n-not much one f-for raw meat."

"How else does it eats its meats, if not raw?"

She heard a gross squelching sound and assumed her host must have bitten into the dripping hound meat. "Um. I c-cook it. Over a fire."

"Fire! Scary, scary. Too hot. Others do not like it."

Okay, it seemed like whatever this thing was, it was enjoying their conversation. If she could keep it occupied until the other spiders settled down, maybe she could fend it off and make her escape. "I take it you're friends with the spiders, then?"

It's voice jumped up in pitch. "Oh, yes! We are all good friends! They bring tasty meats for us to eats!"

She was getting tired of calling this thing a thing. "That's nice. What do they call you?"

"Us? They call us _Tsssachatsss."_

Tsssacha…huh. "Um. I can't pronounce that. Does it have a translation?"

"Trans-la-tion? Oh! Does it mean something different in people-speak?"

"Yes. What I mean to ask is, what can I call you? I can't really pronounce…Tssssackatssack."

The thing before her began giggling madly. "Tssssackatssack! Oh, it is a funny thing! Very funny! _Tsssachatsss_ is our name, and it means Placer of Webs."

"Placer of webs? That's a little wordy. May I call you…um…Webber?"

"Webber?" It sounded hesitant. "Webber? Webber?" It repeated the name, and as it did so its hesitancy vanished. This creature was easily excitable. "Webber! Webber! We like this name! Allena, meet Webber! Webber, meet Allena! We are pleased to meet it!"

She heard another squelching sound. "Ish it sure it doeshn't want any puppy-meatsh?" He inquired through his full mouth.

She pressed herself back more firmly into the wall. "No, I'm fine, thank you. So, Webber…um…where did you come from?"

"We do not like talking about that. We came here from far away! Long ago! Before we were even Webber! We were little then, very little. We were so little that when we met a spider, it swallowed us up in one big bitey-bite! Gulp!"

"You were little, and it swallowed you? Wait, you aren't…" Her eye twitched in the darkness at the implication of this. "You aren't human, are you?"

"No! Not human. Human got eaten! Now we are Webber!"

Oh, good Lord. Was the thing standing in front of her a _human that had been eaten by a spider?_ And he'd said he'd been small. Not a child, surely? A child, _here?_ In this hell? In the Constant?

"You…were a human, though? And now you're…um…"

"Webber! Yes!"

She let out a shuddering breath.

There was another bit of squelching, then a sucking sound that made her imagine he was licking his fingers. This creature was revolting, terrifying, and it seemed like it might want to eat her.

And it also reminded her horribly of a child.

She reached out in the darkness until she felt a face. It was covered in thick, bristly spider hair, but she cupped it in her hand regardless. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you were trapped here. I can't imagine what it must have been like. I'm sure it was awful."

Webber trilled curiously. "Awful? No, no. We are quite happy here. Many things to eat. Many friends to play with."

She let her hand fall. Well, at least it…he…seemed happy. "That's good. You don't miss home, then?"

"This is home! Webber lives here with friends and mama long-legs, and our nest is warm and cozy and when the days get long there is more food than we can eat! It is good here!"

No doubt the birch forest would provide a bounty for him and his spiders in summer. She wondered about his 'mama long-legs,' though. "You don't miss people? Humans, I mean?"

"Webber sees humans sometimes! They are very tasty. We feel bad when they get quiet, though."

Tasty. As she'd suspected, Webber fellow ate humans. He might have been one himself in the past, but that clearly wasn't going to stop him. And if she wanted to get out of this alive, she couldn't depend on his childishness.

Or could she?

He didn't like it when they got quiet. She decided not to get quiet. "Say, Webber, would you like to hear a song?"

"Song?" Webbed inquired. "Song? We remembers songs. We remember one about the cat, and the mouse, and the man who was crooked. Do you know this song?"

She racked her brains for a moment. It sounded familiar, but –

Right. The Crooked Man. "Ah, I think so…" She cleared her throat.

_"There was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile,_   
_He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile._   
_He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse_   
_And they all lived together in a little, crooked house!"_

She finished and waited. "Was that the one you were thinking of?"

Webber trilled ecstatically. "Yes! Yes! Sings it again for us?"

Sing a song to save her life? She'd take it.

She sang it three more times, and by the end of the last one Webber was singing along with his hissy, scratchy voice. When they finished he cried, "Oh, yay! We remember it nicely, now! We will not forget again, no! We will sing it every night."

She glanced behind him to see that night wasn't too far off. The spiders had calmed down, now, and she didn't see any more, but if she waited too long dusk would fall and they'd all be out again. What she needed now was a way to get past Webber.

There was no way she'd get back to base before nightfall came at this point, but if she could set up a makeshift camp a good long ways away from here, she'd be happy enough. "That's a good idea. Repetition is the key to memorization. Speaking of night, I should get back home before it comes around. Would you mind if I–"

"Oh, no, no, no! Allena stays here, with us! Like Webber stayed with spider-friend! Will you sings us songs in our belly?"

Sweat broke out on her brow as she heard him creep closer to her, moving in front of her and blocking off the light once more. "N-n-n-n…"

She took a deep breath. She bit her tongue, gathered herself, and spoke firmly. "No, Webber. It doesn't work like that. You can have d-dinner, or you can have songs. Which would you like?"

Webber stopped. He was now standing mere inches from her, and his legs twitched forward and lightly touched her face. They felt her for a moment, moving around from her hair to her forehead, down to her cheeks and back to her ears…

"Webber…can wait for dinner. More songs, yes?"

She took a shuddering breath and kept singing.

She stuck to nursery rhymes and prayed that as she sang he would relax and give her some room. She had an idea as to how she might get past him, but she needed to get into her backpack. As she sang the fourth song that had come to mind – Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree – she carefully set her pack down to reach inside.

As she knelt, so did Webber. "We have not heard these songs before! We likes them much. How many songs does friend know?"

"Oh, a lot," she said as she reached into her pack. "Would you like to hear the one about Christopher Robin and Pooh?"

"We do not know. Would we?"

She rooted around searching desperately for what she sought, and started to sing.

_"Christopher Robin and I walk along under branches lit up by the moon,_   
_Posing our questions to Owl and Eeyore as the days disappear all too soon._   
_But I've wandered much farther today than I should…_   
_And I can't seem to find my way back to the wood…"_

"Ooooh," sighed Webber in wonder as she sang. This song was one of her favorites. Her father had sung it to her as a child while strumming his guitar. She had vivid memories from her youngest years of looking up at him from her spot on the soft brown carpet in his study as he sat in his rocking chair, light streaming through the window behind him and catching on the crystal that had hung from the ceiling. It had cast rainbows against the white walls, and had always entranced her.

The song had always made her happy. Now she hoped it would keep her alive.

Her fingers continued their probing of her pack. She couldn't find what she sought, and she racked her brains trying to remember where she had put it. After a moment she recalled – she'd placed it in her side pouch. Easier to access.

_"Believe me if you can, I've finally come back to the house on Pooh Corner by one…_

_What do you know, there's so much to be done…"_

Finally, she found it. As she finished the song she sensed Webber above her, totally relaxed. He seemed…happy.

Her gut churned sadly. She didn't want to attack him. Surely he could be reasoned with? "So, did you like that song?"

"We liked it very much. It is very long, though. We will not remember the words."

"Well," she said hopefully. "Maybe I can come back and sing it to you? I'd be happy to, you know. I'll sing to you every time I come by. And others. I know a lot of songs."

She could just barely make out his form as she zipped up her pack and put it back on, and he cocked his head curiously. "Come by? Come back?"

"Yes, Webber. I need to leave. I have someone waiting for me at home."

"Home?"

The quality of his voice was changing ever so slightly, and it gave her goosebumps. As she stood up she felt a subtle change in the air. He said, "You want to leave us? To leave Webber? Oh, no. You stay! You will be very happy here. Happy with us. You will sing us songs every day. We will sing with you. In our belly–"

His legs twitched forward again and gently touched her head. Her heart clenched in fear and sorrow, and she pointed the flashlight in his face and clicked it on.

"AIEEEEE _—TSSSSSSS!"_

The wait sounded halfway between a crying child and a squealing spider, and as the hybrid-monster before her was blinded she saw it for what it was.

Two huge white eyes surrounded by six smaller ones clamped closed as the beam of blinding light struck his face. His mouth dropped open as he wailed revealing a gaping red pit lined with long, shiny white fangs. Four black spider legs stuck out of his head, but seemed weak and frail. She'd wondered if this creature had simply had a spider for a head, but as she tilted the light down a bit she saw that his entire body was covered in thick, black hair. It truly looked as though a spider had swallowed a child, and that the child had grown up inside the spider's belly, fusing them as he refused to die.

She hated this. She didn't want to do this.

But she had no choice.

She pulled her arm back and slammed it forward into Webber's face with all her might, sending him careening backwards with a wail of pain. "Owie ow! Allena hit Webber! Why? Why?"

She shoved past him and sprinted for the door. As she did so his cries turned to furious hissing. She shone the light back over her shoulder and the hissing turned back to crying. "Too bright! Bad light, bad! Hurts our eyes…"

She stormed out of the cave and started leaping from clear spot to clear spot, avoiding the webs. Even as the nests shuddered to life with the sound of Webber's monstrous, hissing sobs she stormed through the bushes, leaving the horror-show behind.

She ran. She ran and ran and didn't look back. She didn't think back. She just wanted to forget about the sad, hungry thing she had met in that cave.


	18. Homeward Bound

Once she was sure she hadn't been followed, she looked around to find that she was completely lost.

 _That's fine,_ she thought as she stood there shaking. _I have my compass._

She checked her direction. East. She needed to head north. She righted herself and started in that direction.

As she walked through the woods she felt sick and miserable. Although she should have been starving by then, her appetite was non-existent. All she'd been through had left her feeling drained. Her near-death experience with the walrus people, the run-in with the spiders…Webber…

She shivered. As she did so she saw a shadow dart behind a tree to her right.

Her head whipped around, but it was gone by the time she looked. That wasn't a _shadow_ shadow, was it? It couldn't be. It wasn't anywhere close to night…

She looked up and realized that that wasn't entirely accurate. The sun had sunken to just above the horizon, and going by its position it would be dusk within the hour, dark an hour after that.

She didn't want to spend the night out there alone, in the darkness. She was already starting to shiver, and her leg hurt horribly. It was the only part of her that felt hot. Even the gloves Wilson had given her were not enough to keep her hands warm. Tears stung her eyes and she wished that she'd just turned around after finding the walrus camp.

She sniffled and decided there was nothing for it. Two hours wasn't much time to make a decent camp, but it was all she had. For the next two hours she wandered around gathering sticks and branches, anything she could use for firewood, and scouting out a decent space to lay down.

She spotted a dense grove of trees and made for it. The less snow on the ground and the more shelter from the wind, the better.

When she reached it she was met with a very, very strange sight.

She slid between two close-set trees to discover that the grove she was in, which consisted of a tight ring of trees surrounding a very small clearing, had been dedicated to…something. A tall statue rose out of the snow before her depicting an odd, furry, insectoid creature. It looked like a giant, stubby, flying bug with six dangly little legs, an equal number of round, bulging eyes, and two itty-bitty little wings.

She walked up and peered at it. It was very difficult to define the purpose of the statue. Was it an idol of some sort? An artistic representation of a real creature? A discarded arts-and-crafts project of Maxwell's?

Whatever it was it struck her as oddly comforting. She would set up camp there. Besides, the grove was cozy.

The wind picked up a bit and she put her back to the statue, striking up a fire as she did so. She piled every bit of kindling she had nearby. She wouldn't be sleeping much tonight. The winter nights were long and she would need to keep the fire stocked or risk…

Another shadow darted between two trees and a powerful shudder racked her body. She'd never seen the shadow out that early before, but that was surely what it was. Right?

As dusk gave way to dark the cold increased, her shivers worsened, and her anxiety deepened to fear. She could see shadows flickering in and out of the trees almost constantly out of the corner of her eyes, but was never able to catch them directly. What was…

A memory of something Wilson had once said echoed suddenly in her mind. One night by the fire he'd told her that strange, shadowy creatures had manifested around him whenever his spirits were at their lowest, whenever his sanity was starting to dwindle. Was she just going mad?

Another shadow darted away from her sight as she turned her head to look. Well, Wilson had also said that they weren't dangerous until you could see them directly, and they had a definite form, and even then it took hours or days for them to attack. She'd be fine.

She laid out her straw mat and threw her blanket over her shoulders; she pulled out some beefalo jerky and nibbled on it while her thermal egg warmed in the fire; and she waited.

She was exhausted, but she wouldn't let herself fall asleep completely. She dozed against the statue, stocking up the fire from time to time, and watched the half-moon progress slowly across the sky.

She thought about Wilson, alone at the base wondering where she was. She hoped he wouldn't be too worried about her, but she knew he would be. She knew because if their positions were reversed, she'd be sick to her stomach fretting over him.

More shadows flickered around her, and she sighed. "Go away," she said. There was, predictably, no response.

She started to doze, and several hours passed before she jerked her head up again. Her muscles were getting tense from sitting up in the cold after all the strain she'd put on herself today, so she decided it would be a good idea to move around a bit. Besides, she was running out of kindling and the fire was getting low. There was a small tree, not much more than a sapling, just outside the grove. Hopefully there weren't any birch-treeguards around.

She warmed up her hands with her thermal egg, stuck it in her pocket for a bit of extra warmth, and got up. She winced as she put pressure on her leg but the poison had mostly worked its way out of her system by then. The scratch was still sore, but not agonizing anymore.

She tossed the rest of the kindling on the fire to give herself a bit more light and limped only slightly as she made her way to the small tree. Then she hoisted her axe and got to work.

Her blows were weak and the tree was pretty much frozen, so it took a while to make any headway. Just as she made it about halfway through the trunk she heard something out in the darkness.

She stopped hacking and her brow furrowed. It wasn't growling or snarling; it wasn't the crunching of snow or the pounding of footsteps; it sounded like…

Music?

Yes, that's what it sounded like. Music. It sounded like the tinkling of a music-box. It came from the forest directly in front of her –

No, now it was behind her. Or…off to the side?

Her head started whipping around as the quasi-melodic noise shifted from place to place. She couldn't pin it down, and it was really starting to creep her out. Badly.

And it was changing. Some of the notes were discordant, and the longer she listened the more off-key notes she heard. It was speeding up a bit, too.

She realized that her hands were shaking and her brow had broken out in a cold sweat. She felt like she might throw up. What was happening?

She'd worry about firewood later. She needed to get back to her fire. She turned around and stepped back into the clearing, and there she saw what the music had been heralding.

A shadowy hand had extended out of the darkness and was reaching for the flames. Allena stopped dead in her tracks and watched it with sick fascination, and it extended a finger and touched the edge of her meager blaze. Then it rose.

The hand detached itself from the ground and its claws curled around the heat, almost as though seeking its warmth. Then the hand descended on the fire.

Allena's eyes flickered past the hand to the shadows behind it, and she saw the source of the sinister hand. The form was hunched just barely in range of the light, its arm sunken into the ground and trailing across it to her fire.

It was her. The woman from the darkness. The shadow.

Her mouth widened in a feral grin as their eyes met, and the last wild thought to cross Allena's mind before she was plunged into total darkness was,

_She has really cute dimples._

Then the light was snuffed out.

An electric thrill of horror shot up Allena's spine and she jammed her hand into her pocket. She heard low, hissing laughter and could almost feel the shadow sauntering up to her.

Her fingers were jittering like a ragtime piano player's, but lacked the corresponding coordination. They wrapped around her flashlight and jerked it out of her pocket, flicking the switch just as the temperature dropped by ten degrees.

The shadow was illuminated for a heartbeat before it hissed furiously at her and flew into the trees. Damnit. The thing had moved faster than the laws of physics should have permitted. The only reason she was still alive was because the thing preferred a long stalk to a quick kill.

Her chest was heaving with terror, but she forced herself to calm down. She had her light. The thing couldn't get her now, she had her light and she would just pack up her things and start walking back and that was fine because her light would last 'till dawn and –

A low roar sounded behind her, and she whirled around just in time to see a streak of black vanishing into the darkness outside her small beam of luminance.

The pounding of her heart redoubled. A torch cast light all around, but a flashlight only directed a pointed beam in one direction. Wherever she pointed it, the entire other side would be in total darkness. It would just keep darting for her back until –

She let out a moan of terror and whirled around again. This time it had attacked silently and she caught another glimpse of the shadow-woman's face as the light fell upon the being just in time. Those black claws had been inches away from her. She wouldn't last like this.

She acted fast, throwing herself back to the partially chopped tree. She needed another fire. She needed wood.

She pointed the flashlight at her back again and heard a mad, rattling hiss. It was coming for her at every opportunity, now. It wouldn't leave her alone.

She stepped back from the sapling and set her light down on a rock jutting out of the snow, aiming it so the beam was pointed at the tree, and stepped into the wide ray of light.

A sense of sullen disappointment emanated from the darkness around her. She was safe – for the moment.

She grabbed the axe and started hacking. Her adrenaline gave her strength, but her terror robbed her of accuracy. She couldn't quite seem to keep striking the same notch she'd made in the wood, and it took a dozen more swings before the tree finally groaned and fell.

The sensation of defeat within her diminished as she began hacking at the fallen sapling – but it also vanished from the darkness around her.

The music started up again. This time is was quick and discordant from the get-go.

Knowing by now what that meant she lunged for the flashlight just as the shadow-hand wrapped around it. For a moment they were locked in a tug of war –

Then Allena screeched in defiance and thrust her fist straight into the darkness behind the light.

She actually felt her fist connect with something – a nose by the feel – and to her absolute shock she heard a woman's voice chirp at her from the shadows.

"Ow!"

Immediately the voice was overtaken by a livid and strangled roar. The shadow withdrew, leaving the flashlight behind.

She didn't waste its absence. She grabbed the light with one hand, the axe with her other, and began chopping.

She was sloppy but fast. In another minute there were large chunks of splintered wood spread out beneath her and she grabbed one, a fairly large chunk, and dragged it over to the remains of her fire. She felt the shadow approaching again and shone her light in a full circle. She dumped the log, pulled out her flint, and started striking.

Sparks. Smoke. Just a hint of light, and then –

The fire caught. The shadow receded. She was safe.

She sat for a long minute fanning the flame and building it up. As soon as it was adequately bright she jogged back to the fallen sapling and started hacking it up into more usable pieces.

The music started again. With a shriek of frustration she ran back into the clearing to see the hand snaking once more towards her fire. Not willing to let it douse her defenses again, she leaped forward and stomped on it.

It retreated back into the shadows with a jumble of harsh notes. She shone her flashlight in the direction it had come from and the music cut off.

It took her an hour to finish chopping up the tree. Every time she ran back to get in a few more axe swings the music would start again and the hand would reach for the fire. She would run back, jump on it, and send it running. Rinse and repeat.

Finally she had a decent pile of lumber beside her, enough to get her through the rest of the night. She quivered miserably as she realized that it was probably only half-over, that it would be hours before dawn broke again.

Once it knew it wouldn't be able to put her fire out, the shadow stopped trying, but she could still feel it out there. The darkness thrummed angrily around her, and she wondered why this thing was making sure a vicious and blatant attempt on her life all of a sudden. Wilson had never mentioned dealing with anything like this, even when he'd been going mad.

Why did this thing suddenly want her dead?

She sat by her fire, numb from cold and spent from fear. After a while she heard a new noise.

Out in the distance she heard the sound of crows shrieking. The sound was cut off. A few minutes later she heard the desperate twittering of a snowbird some distance off to her left, and it ended with a sickening crunch.

A roar sounded out there, and the birds of the forest erupted into terrified shrieks.

For the next several hours she listened to the sounds of something slithering, tearing and stalking through the forest and through the trees. The sounds of birds and other woodland creatures in distress rose and fell as the night passed, and she sat staring blankly into her protective blaze.

Eventually, the sky above her turned from black to grey, grey to cobalt, cobalt to azure, and finally the pre-dawn glow was sufficient.

The shadow departed. She let out a shaky breath and felt her shoulders drop out of their tense state.

She stood up and packed her things. She pulled her thermal egg out of the fire and warmed up anything that felt numb. She dropped it into her pocket along with her flashlight and looked around the clearing.

Her stomach twisted up with revulsion at the sight that met her. Strewn about the grove, stripped of meat and usable parts, was what seemed to be every woodland creature within a one-mile radius.

Their twisted, bloodied skeletons had been placed around her camp in circular piles. Some were hooked together in long chains that dangled from trees. Others had been cleanly vivisected and left for examination.

She felt bile rise up in her throat at the senseless carnage before her. That shadow...did it belong to Maxwell? Was he leaving her a message? Did he feel cheated that she hadn't died to the walruses, to the spiders?

She didn't want to dwell on it. She turned to leave the clearing, though before she did she stopped and looked at the statue she'd rested under all night long.

It sat benignly, oddly triumphant in spite of its awkward and unimpressive subject. She got the sense that if the creature depicted in the stone was real, it would have made a far more pleasant companion than the one she'd had last night.

She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of it. Then she turned and started north. Time to go home.

* * *

She'd walked perhaps two miles when she started hearing the baying of the hounds.

The dusk of yesterday had left her mind tender enough that the edge of her vision had been marked by small, darting shadows for the duration of the night. After all she'd been through on top of that, however, her sanity was dangerously low.

The shadows now took on clearly definable forms, though they still tended to dissipate if she looked at them for too long. She'd caught glimpses of huge, hulking, crawling creatures and tall, spindly, parrot-headed cretins. She even thought she'd caught a glimpse of the Loch Ness monster in the inlet by the bee field. The visions weren't pleasant, and she was hoping some time in the daylight would banish them.

Now, though, with the baying of the hounds, her fear returned to her and the shadows seemed to regain whatever substance they had lost to the light of day.

She started jogging. She didn't have the strength to run, not after her long, sleepless night, and her leg was still sore. She jogged, and she hoped it would be enough.

Of course she knew it wouldn't be. She would never reach the base before the hounds caught her.

Still, she tried. She pushed past the pain and struggled through the shallow snow. She'd passed the beehive clearing a while back so she knew where she was, and she kept heading in the direction of home.

The baying of the hounds stayed oddly distant for a long while. Why? Normally they approached much faster than this.

It was twenty minutes before she discovered the answer to this. The hounds had fallen silent a while back, long enough that she allowed herself to hope that they had left, but when next they sounded it was close enough that she knew she would see them when she turned around.

She paused in her frantic hobbling and turned. Sure enough, there they were – and they weren't alone.

It was the walruses. They and their last two hounds had evidently decided to go on another hunting trip – and she was their quarry.

Damnit.

A surge of sickening anger cut through the fear, bordering for an instant on hatred, and the shadows around her darkened. Why couldn't they have left her alone? _Why?_

She turned and ran. She ran as hard as she was able, and she heard the hounds behind her barking and snarling impatiently. They didn't run her down at once – it seemed their owners weren't willing to risk them running into another trap.

They closed the distance slowly. She was running now through the coniferous forest heading for the open grassland. That was likely where she would meet her end.

Would Wilson find her? Would he come across her body this spring, after all the snow had melted? Would he wonder what had happened to her?

Even now, at death's door, he was all she could seem to think about.

A sob hitched in her throat, but she forced it down and kept running. Nearly every spark of energy was exhausted, so she leaned forward and let momentum carry her on.

The first dart struck her just as she flew out of the tree line, catching her on her arm. In the space of a few heartbeats the venom spread to the whole left side of her body. It felt like fire down to her bones, and she screamed.

Still, she staggered forward. There was no longer a reason to, but if she was going to die she wasn't going to make it easy for them.

Another dart struck true, this one sinking into her right calf. The leg gave out and she fell to the ground.

She lay face down in the snow for a long moment, then pushed herself up with her right arm, getting her elbow under her torso and rolling herself over. She sat up to see them approaching.

The hounds flanked the duo, both growling excitedly. The older walrus was glaring down at her coldly, almost clinically, and the younger one was stamping his flippery feet. He was the only one holding a blowgun this time. It looked like he was the one who had shot her.

She braced herself with her undamaged arm, pain pumping through her body with every heartbeat, but she lacked the strength to stand. With nothing else to do she reached around, grabbed her spear, and rasped out, "Fine. Come and get me."

The older one narrowed its eyes almost disdainfully. Then it barked out an order and the hounds' ears perked up.

One of them threw back its head and let out a long, loud victory howl. It stepped forward curiously, as though making sure it had permission. Another bark from the walrus. The hound started forward in earnest, loping through the high snow towards her.

She held her spear straight out. With any luck she could at least injure it, maybe impale it. She'd like to kill at least one before –

Off to her right, a massive, pale shape was plowing through the snow, perpendicular to the hound's path. It was clear that they were on a collision course. Four heads – two walruses', a hound's, and a girl's – turned in the direction of the charging giant. Only one head didn't turn, too blinded by its victory charge.

The old walrus barked out another order, its voice pitched with alarm, but the hound was too eager for the kill. It didn't take its white eyes off of her until it heard the bellow.

Allena's jaw dropped as the beefalo rammed straight into the side of the hound, sending it flying fifteen feet. The beefalo stopped cold, the entirety of its momentum transferred to its quarry.

The younger walrus wailed furiously – clearly this was turning out to be a very bad week for him – and he lifted his blowgun.

Her eyebrows popped up in surprise, and even she had the mental acuity to think, _oh, that's a really bad idea._ The elder walrus, too, saw what was about to happen and barked out a word that even she could translate without too much difficulty:

_NO!_

But it was too late. The young hunter, blinded by the loss of another pet, shot the beefalo.

The dart landed firmly in its neck and it staggered. For a moment. Just a moment. Then its head whipped around and it roared.

She wouldn't have thought to attribute the word 'roar' to any sound an herbivore could make, but that's what this enormous beast did. It threw its head back, locked eyes with its new aggressor, and _roared._

The walrus seemed to immediately regret its rash decision. It's eyes bulged, it stumbled backwards, and it dropped its blowgun. The beefalo turned about and charged the young hunter, head down, and the older one barely had time to shove the youngster aside before hurtling out of the way himself. The beefalo flew between them, grinding to a halt as it felt the distinct absence of a walrus on its rack.

The rest of the herd was approaching, and they didn't look very happy either. She hoped they wouldn't assume she was with their attackers and go for her too.

They didn't. One of the younger ones trotted right past her with barely a glance and made for the distant hound that was just regaining its footing. Allena had assumed the blow from the herd-leader had killed it, but evidently not. The sharp, stamping hooves of the young beefalo (which had to have weighed at least a ton, going by its size) finished it off, though.

The other hound was pacing around the herd, and she saw its eyes lock onto her. It darted forward, trying to get through to her, and she hoped her spear would be enough to fend it off.

She needn't have even lifted it. The young one that had just finished off the first ice-hound – its body was now covered in frost – turned and charged the second one. The hound growled in defiance for only a moment before retreating with a yelp.

The beefalo were furious. They were all hollering fit to crack the heavens, and Allena decided she'd never heard a more beautiful sound.

They drove the walruses and their remaining hound from the plain in moments. The younger one managed to shoot her a death-glare before he ran, but revenge would have to wait another day. Walrus-the-senior grunted a harsh order to him – _retreat, you idiot!_ – and he turned and ran.

The beefalo did not pursue them into the forest. They simply stood around outside stamping their hooves and tossing their heads. Eventually the herd leader gave one last loud bellow, and turned away.

Allena sat weakly on the ground, fire in her veins, fog in her head. She couldn't stay there, she couldn't even afford to rest, but a very large part of her just wanted to curl up on the snow and go to sleep.

The massive beefalo spotted her. It walked up to her calmly, stared down at her, and let out a low moan.

She smiled, just slightly, and returned it.

It snorted, flicking its ears. It leaned forward and sniffed her.

Right. Grass. She'd used up everything last night in the fire. Everything except…

She weakly slung off her pack. She pulled out her straw mat, which was now in tatters from last night's use, and undid the ropes, stowing them away for later reuse. She held the mat out to the beefalo.

It threw its head back and hollered happily, grabbing the mat from her and swinging around to the rest of the herd.

The younger one ambled up cautiously and took a small nibble. The herd leader didn't chase him off, so he ate more, grumbling contentedly. It was feeding its family.

She watched them until they finished the mat, then she tried to stand up. No go. Her leg wouldn't support her. She tried again.

The young beefalo walked over to watch her struggles curiously. It was standing right next to her, long, tangled hair almost brushing her own.

She couldn't get up by herself. She grabbed a handful of beefalo shag, planted the spear in the ground, and hoisted herself to her feet.

The beefalo shimmied back, but she couldn't stand on her own, even with the spear and she ended up falling against its side. It let out a startled grunt and tugged away.

She fell to the ground. It looked at her curiously again.

The older one walked up and nuzzled her. She turned her head to look at it and got a face-full of beefalo snout. Gross.

She needed to get up. She needed to move. She grabbed onto its horn.

It lifted its head and she was yanked to her feet. She stumbled to its side and leaned against it. Unlike the younger one, it wasn't skittish, and let her rest. The dart was still sticking out of its neck. She pulled it out and dropped it in her pocket, then did the same with the two that had hit her.

She tested her leg. Weak, but it would work for at least a while more. She took a step, using the spear as a walking stick. The leg held. She took another step and stumbled.

The beefalo walked after her and she grabbed its horn to keep her balance. She didn't fall.

The beefalo were all looking at her with mild interest. They'd followed her across the plains yesterday – maybe they would again today?

She looked up at the sky. It was past noon already. As injured as she was, it would take her most of the day to get home…but she could make it. She just needed to get moving.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she started hobbling forward. The herd leader, sure enough, was content to follow her. She knew it was likely out of a hope for more food and not out of a desire to protect her, but she was immeasurably grateful for its support, nonetheless. She stumbled a dozen times as she regained her footing, but every time she was able to grab onto the beefalo for support. It probably saved her life.

Eventually the searing pain across her upper left and lower right sides receded until it was only the limbs themselves that were affected, and not all the muscles and tendons supporting them. Her pace increased and she no longer had to rely on the beefalo for support. Still, she was grateful for their presence.

It took her at least twice as long to cross the plain as it had the previous day, and by the end of it she was exhausted. She wasn't about to stop, though. If she sat down for a minute, she'd rest for an hour. If she stopped for an hour, she might not make it back to base before night fell again. And she got the sense that the shadow wouldn't let her get away a second time.

When she reached the edge of the plain she turned to the beefalo. "Thanks, guys. I really owe you one."

Her buddy responded with a typical low bellow. She returned it and headed into the forest.

She wound her way between trees and shrubs as the sun made its way across the sky overhead. It reached its apex and began to descend, and she still hadn't caught sight of the base. She'd stop to lean against a tree from time to time, but she refused to sit down, not even to stop for lunch. The result was that she was starving by the time she neared the edge of the forest.

She looked around through the haze of pain and fatigue and realized that things were starting to look familiar. Unless she was mistaken, she would reach the base well within the hour.

She saw something that she did not recognize, though. A sign nailed to a tree. She made her way past a particularly large and thickly-rooted pine to peer at it, and as she did a shiver ran down her spine.

LIVING FOREST. DO NOT LOG.

Allena turned around slowly and looked at the trees around her. All of them were unusually large, and as she looked up at their foliage it seemed to her that she could almost see the indentations in the branches and needles that market the drowsing faces of sleeping giants.

Looked like Wilson had gotten around to that sign.

She backed out of the grove, though she carefully marked where it was. She couldn't imagine ever wanting to come back here, but maybe she would plant a sapling or two just to make sure they stayed nice and happy. And asleep.

Finally, ten minutes later, she staggered out of the forest. Ahead of her was the base.

She'd never felt relief like what flooded her upon seeing those pale stone walls, the smoke curling up from the firepit.

Wilson.

She lurched forward, reinvigorated, and made for home.

Every step was pain, and her head felt light and fuzzy, but for the first time that day the shadows around her were receding. The figures became formless, though she still caught them out of the corner of her eye even as she stepped into entryway.

She rounded the corner. Wilson sat by the fire, hunched over, head in his hands.

"Hey," she croaked. Her throat was horribly parched.

His head shot up, eyes wide, and he stared at her for a moment before leaping to his feet. "Allena," he gasped. "Where have you–?"

Chester, who had been sitting beside the fire looking dejected, hopped to his feet and sprinted at her, barking excitedly. She smiled down at him. "Hey, boy. Sorry I was gone so long."

He whined in response, nudging her bad leg, and she winced and stepped back, almost falling.

Wilson saw her reaction to the gentle touch and quickly came over and took her arm. Without a word he guided her to the medical bench, sat her down, and started grabbing supplies. "Is your leg injured?"

Chester was standing several feet away, wanting to follow but unable to because Wilson had left his eyebone by the fire. "Yeah," she said. "Right leg and left arm. Poison darts. It's mostly worn off, but it still hurts like the dickens."

She'd stored the darts in her pocket and now pulled them out for Wilson to examine. He looked at them in disbelief, turning them in his hands and peering closely at the tips. "Darts? How?"

He was already helping her out of her clothes, and as soon as her arm was out of its sleeve – man, it was cold – he inspected the limb. She inspected it too, and winced.

Her entire arm was shot through with veins of bright red, and had swollen up as though she'd been stung by an entire swarm of bees at once. The entry wound was purple, and actually looked as though it had bubbled up and melted a bit. It was ugly.

Wilson stared at the wound in horror for a moment, then his face twisted up in an expression of stony rage. "Who. Did. This?"

She took his hand in an attempt to comfort him, but he pulled it back. His fingers twitched and he reached for some spider salve.

She looked up at him, mildly disconcerted. "It's okay, really," she said as he lathered the salve onto the tiny wound. It stung, but she could feel it start working immediately. "I just ran into some hunters when I…went out…"

Wilson's jaw clenched, and her stomach dropped. He bound the wound and knelt down to look at her leg, which was equally swollen. "You've been gone since yesterday. Where did you go?"

He did not sound happy, and she got the feeling that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. "I was feeling cooped up yesterday, so I thought I'd just…go for a walk."

She paused, nervous. Wilson had actually explained to her specifically that he did not go exploring during winter due to the high risk and unforgiving conditions. "I thought I'd see what was on the other side of the beefalo plain."

He'd applied salve to her leg and was just binding it, but as she said this he tensed and pulled the bandage a bit too tight. She made a noise of mild discomfort, and he loosened it before tying it off. "I told you, we do not explore during winter."

His voice was as cold as the gem around her neck. She understood why, but it was still disheartening. Her mouth went dry. "I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't planning on going far, I just–"

He stood up suddenly, glaring down at her. "I spent hours looking for you yesterday! When night fell, and you weren't back, I believed you were dead! And look at you – you almost were!"

She swallowed, but said nothing. Wilson was upset, and rightly so. He needed to get this out of his system.

He continued, voice getting steadily louder as his emotions poured out of him in a massive rush – the normally clinical man was in a passion. "There is virtually no food readily available out there, it is twice as difficult to keep a fire going when it's this cold and almost impossible when it's snowing, you risk freezing to death even in broad daylight if you aren't prepared, and if a blizzard blows up at the wrong time you could be covered in snow before you even realize you're in danger! There are threats out there that you cannot even imagine! I know, because I have run into several of them in my time, and it was often sheer luck that allowed me to survive! You were feeling cooped up. Fine. Why not go for a walk in the northern forest? To the swamp? By all means, had you walked across the way to the island you would have found me inspecting the area for resources!" He waved his arm in the general direction of the island. "But no, you had to go see something _new."_

She opened her mouth to reply, but he had more to say. "Fine, then! You wanted to see something you had never seen before! You looked at my map, I assume? Why did you not simply go to see the pigs? Or dropped by the southern shore to see the frozen beaches? There are many places I have already cleared of most threats, that you have not seen. _Why,_ in the name of all that is good and holy in this world, did you feel the need to go beyond the map?"

She grasped for an answer, but as she did she realized that she had none. What he'd said made sense – why hadn't she just gone and seen the pigs?

She shook her head at him. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

He opened his mouth to say more, but her answer seemed to deflate him. His jaw snapped shut and he went back to treating her wounds.

He pulled out her first aid kit and asked shortly, "You said you had anti-inflammatories, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes, the orange ones."

He held the pill box out to her and she picked a couple out and popped them in her mouth. He handed her some water and put the rest of the supplies away. "Do you have any other injuries?" Distressed as he was, he couldn't entirely hide his worry.

She shook her head. "No. I'm just hungry and tired. And cold. I need to sit down for a while."

He nodded sharply and bundled her up again, then helped her to the fire. She sat there warming herself and sipping water while he walked about gathering up some food supplies, tossing a few things in a skillet and putting this on the fire to warm.

He put a bowl of water on the fire as well, mixing some honey in and handing it to her when it was hot. She took a long sip and said, "Thank you."

He made a vaguely angry sound in response. "So. It seems you had quite an adventure. Would you care to share it with me?"

He dished her up a plate of the now-steaming food and handed it to her. Now that her other immediate concerns had been addressed her appetite had returned full force. She shoveled the food into her mouth steaming hot off the skillet. It burned a bit going down, but it took the pains in her gut away.

Wilson's brow furrowed in concern at her voracity, but quickly straightened out. His arms crossed and he settled down to listen.

She was fed, she was watered, and her injuries were treated. She settled down to tell her story.

* * *

"Walrus people?"

Allena nodded. "Yeah. They were hunting tallbirds. The hounds belonged to them, they had them trained."

Wilson had been listening raptly, and though she knew he was still upset about her disappearance, his natural curiosity was blunting his severity. "And I take it they're the ones that shot you?"

"Yes. I thought they were friendly until then, too. I was really disappointed. They looked so nice, with their kilts and tam o'shanters…" She sighed.

Wilson shot her a long-suffering look but kept his peace. "So how did you get away?"

"Well, the first time I managed not to get shot. They weren't fast runners so I got out of their range pretty quick. It was only when they set the hounds on me that I was worried."

"They set hounds on you…how did you escape?"

This was the part she had really been looking forward to. "Okay, so I made it to this cliff…"

She recounted how she managed to lure the hound into jumping into the spider nest, how the walruses had been livid, and how she'd slipped into the cave unseen. "…but it turned out there was something in there."

Wilson's shoulders twitched forward. He was obviously trying to hide his excitement, and not doing a very good job of it. "What? What was in there? Not more spiders, surely?"

She almost wanted to smile. He sounded like a kid being told a scary story. _What happened next? What happened next?_

Of course, this wasn't the most fun part to talk about. "There was…someone living in there. A person…sort of."

He looked at her quizzically. "A person, sort of? Was it human, or not?"

She bit her lip. "From what I could tell, it was…and I know this may sound strange…a person who had been eaten by a spider as a child and then grew up in the spider's belly, forming some sort of weird symbiotic relationship," she said in one long breath. "I mean, that's what he looked like."

The expression on his face as he tried to picture this was fairly humorous. Too bad she didn't feel remotely like laughing. She described the run-in with Webber to him. Wilson listened with acute interest – then scowled deeply.

"What?" Allena asked him worriedly.

"You tell me about a half-spider boy living in a spider stronghold who likes nursery tales and eats people, and you won't allow me one simple pig-king?"

She stared at him for a moment, then did smile, a bit sheepishly. "Heh. Sorry. It did seem pretty weird, but I guess now that I've met the walruses I've kind of warmed up to the idea of sentient animal-people."

Wilson hrumph'd and stuck out his chin. "I should hope so."

She continued. "So I managed to blind him with the flashlight and get away. I felt kind of bad, though. He sounded so…"

Wilson's expression darkened. "He wanted to eat you," he said flatly.

She shook her head sadly. "I know. I think we ought to just avoid him and his spiders. Anyways, I don't want to know what he meant when he said he lived with his 'mama long-legs'."

Wilson hummed. "Probably just one of those tiger-spiders, as you call them. Now, you got away and spent the night in the open. How did that go?"

A violent shudder passed through her body, top to toes, as she recalled the hellish experience she'd had the previous night. "Wilson, have you ever had hands come out of the dark and try to put out your fire before?"

His eyebrows raised. "Ah, yes, actually. Once. It was really quite creepy, and it didn't stop until I rushed the source with my torch. I assume it is that dastardly shadow's way of toying with us."

"Toying with us?"

Wilson nodded. "Yes. What with the music and the sneakiness, it struck me as almost playful. Did it not strike you the same way?"

She shook her head slowly at him, wide eyed, and told him all about the evening.

Wilson listened. At first he seemed merely curious, then confused, then disconcerted. By the end of her story he was downright alarmed. "It sounds as though it was actively trying to kill you! And not in the normal way. The way you describe it, its aggression seemed almost…"

"Motivated?" She supplied. "Driven?"

He didn't look like he liked the idea, but he nodded. "Yes, though I can't fathom a reason for it to want you dead all of a sudden…"

She shifted nervously in her seat.

"…but you survived the night, and that's what matters. And we have more than enough fire and backup lights that the shadow wouldn't dare such an attack here." He nodded to himself, satisfied. "So, what happened then?"

She was getting very tired, and really wanted to go to bed at that point, so she rushed a bit while telling him about the second walrus attack. She also tried to tone it down a bit, knowing how upset he would be, but by the end of it Wilson was seething anyways.

"Those filthy cretins," he spat. "I'll make a walking cane out of their _tusks_ if I ever catch sight of them."

She winced…but privately agreed. Those things really were menaces. Stylish, tubby menaces.

That said he also took on a thoughtful expression regarding the way the beefalo had helped her. "I've never had much fondness for those creatures, aside from their ability to provide me with meat and hair, but…"

She yawned, eyes fluttering closed where she sat. "The big one saved my life," she said sleepily.

He looked torn, but at last seemed to relent. "Yes. It seems so. I'll be sure not to kill that one the next time I go hunting."

Though tired, she managed an impish smile. "Ah, you're just saying that because it t-boned a hound half to death."

He looked affronted. "I certainly hope you're not implying that I, Wilson Percival Higgsbury, master hunter in this wild and savage land, am afraid of a mere beefalo?"

"I would be. Have you seen the horns on that thing?"

He had puffed up for his boast, but now deflated. "Ah, yes, I believe I'm familiar with that particular specimen, come to think of it. I suppose I wouldn't want to get on its bad side – regardless of any existing moral obligations to it."

She chuckled and made to stand up. As she did so, however, she almost immediately fell over.

She tumbled to the side into the thin snow, and because she fell on her injured arm it was fairly agonizing.

Wilson was at her side in an instant. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she gasped. "I'm fine. Just need…some sleep…"

"Of course…here, come on, let's get you to bed…"

He hoisted her up and got her into the tent, helping her out of the bulk of her clothes and fetching some replacement articles. Her own clothes were getting rather gamy, and she really didn't want to sleep in them tonight. "So," she said sleepily as he helped her into her sleeping bag. "Nothing happened while I was gone, right? No trouble?"

"Nothing but losing you," he said, tone clipped.

Once again, a wave of guilt crashed over her. He'd really thought she'd been killed. She wanted to say something, but he turned and left the moment she was settled.

He was going through the camp getting ready for bed, but she suspected he may also have been waiting for her to fall asleep, going by the amount of time it was taking him. Unfortunately for him, she had something she needed to say. So she waited.

It was difficult to stay awake when her body and mind were both so desperate for rest, but she managed, all the while thinking about exactly what to say to him. After maybe an hour he stocked up the fire and returned to the tent.

He poked his head in and saw that she wasn't sleeping. "You're still awake?" He asked shortly.

She nodded and bit her lip.

His eye twitched. He didn't seem inclined to go back outside given that he was ready for bed, but he also didn't seem open to conversation. He sat down with a sigh and kicked his shoes off. He undid his thick winter vest, slipped into his sleeping bag, tugged his blanket up and rolled over.

His back was facing her. He was making himself pretty clear, but she couldn't wait until morning. She rolled over closer to him and touched his shoulder through the bag.

He rolled over onto his back and glared up at her, and she flinched back.

His black eyes were like shards of obsidian in the near-darkness, sharp and black, and the emotion there cut deep. Unable to maintain eye contact, she looked away and said, "I'm sorry."

He said nothing, so she continued. "I know you're angry at me, but I just…" she swallowed and forced out everything she'd been thinking over. "I just need to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I ran off on my own and left you wondering where I was. I'm sorry I didn't take your warnings seriously. I can see why it's dangerous to go exploring in winter, and from now on I'll take your advice more seriously. I'm sorry…"

She paused for a moment. The last one was one she didn't want to voice, but had to be addressed. "I'm sorry I've put the burden of caring for me on you again. I went out unprepared for what the Constant had to offer, and I got injured, and now you have to deal with it. I promised you I wouldn't be a burden when you invited me to stay here with you, and I've failed to keep that promise again and again. You have every right to be angry with me. I acted on impulse, I did something stupid and childish, and I…I'm just sorry." She was now clenching her fists tightly, stomach churning, and she concluded, "From now on I'll have more respect for your expertise. I'll take better care of myself, so you don't have to. I'll do better."

She still didn't look at him. She didn't want to. She just wanted him to know how she felt, and she wanted him to stop being mad at her. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against him for a moment, desperate for some sort of contact, then pulled back and rolled over, leaving him to sleep.

He was still and silent for several minutes. Then he rolled over so he was just behind her. When he spoke, his tone was strained, but not angry. "I…shouldn't have insinuated that you were a burden to me. I regretted that almost as soon as it was out of my mouth two nights ago, and you should know that whatever I've had to do to keep you safe has been negligible compared to all you've done for me." He paused. "And, yes, I would appreciate it if you listened to me when I warn you about things that could get you killed, but I also realize that I played a certain part in your leaving with my behavior towards you the night before. It would have been more…ah…mature of me to address my grievances with you, rather than to leave you stewing whilst I ran off to mope. I, too, acted childishly in that regard."

She heard him shuffle around a bit, and then his arm wrapped around her in a gentle hug. "I'm simply glad you're home, Allena."

He bent over and kissed her head. She rolled over to look up at him, and for the first time since their disastrous Christmas dinner he looked like his old self.

As he reached over to cup her face in his hand something in her chest gave way. It felt like a knot of horrible tension had just relaxed, and she almost gasped with the relief of it. She reached up with her uninflamed arm and ran her fingers through his hair.

She'd missed him.

He smiled and bent down, nuzzling her nose with his own. "You're not still mad at me, are you?" She asked quietly.

He kissed her forehead. "No. Forgive me for my callousness. I…"

His expression grew cloudy, but he shook it off. "I suppose there are a few things I'd like to talk to you about, but looking back I realize that it was silly of me to harbor resentment towards you the way I did."

She was confused. "What do you…" she yawned deeply. "…want to talk about…?"

He kissed her again and pushed her shoulder down firmly. "It isn't important. Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

She racked her brains trying to imagine what was on his mind, but it was no use. She was so tired.

She felt a twinge at the loss of contact when he rolled away, but it turned to warm comfort as she felt him tug his sleeping bag over and settle down beside her. Normally they maintained some distance for propriety's sake, but tonight it seemed he was willing to relax his boundaries a bit.

For the first time in three days she felt properly warm as she felt his form pressing gently against hers. An arm came out and wrapped around her waist over the sleeping bag, and with a sigh of total contentment she allowed her eyelids to drift closed. She slept.


	19. The Calm Before the Storm

Allena woke the day next to the sound of papers rustling and metal clinking. She sat up slowly, wincing just slightly as she put pressure on her arm. She rolled up her sleeve to see that the veins of red had faded to the light purple of some burst capillaries. She imagined that would fade as well, in a few days.

She pulled her sleeve back down, got up, dressed, and exited the tent.

Wilson sat at his workbench. His hands were darting around here and there, seemingly independent of each other. One would pinch a spoonful of some pale powdery substance from a bowl and drop it in a beaker while the other jotted down notes or took measurements of something else. It didn't look like the fire had been used that morning for food, so she guessed he may not have had breakfast yet. He often skipped meals when he got caught up in his science.

She never bothered him while he was in a mental frenzy like this, though she did enjoy just sitting back and watching him sometimes. She had a decent background in science and basic laboratory procedures, but his actions were often a mystery to her. His ever-increasing understanding of the strange laws that governed this world had taken him well beyond her cordial familiarity of scientific fundamentals.

Her mood lifted as she watched him. She always felt the spark of hope flare up when he was hard at work like this. Though today's experiment seemed to be centered on survival rather than escape – he had a few beefalo horns and his well-preserved tallbird eye out, and was dripping some sort of viscous red liquid on the back of it – she was content to know that he was doing what he did best.

She quietly stretched, turned, and began readying breakfast. She decided to prepare one of their tallbird eggs; they still had five, and winter was more than half over. A fried egg, along with the rest of their fresh beefalo sausage and some jam on toast – would make an unusually tasty breakfast.

She got out the pans and started cooking.

The sizzling of meat and butter was soon added to the clinking and scratching of Wilson's work, and the sounds of domestic life in the Constant soothed her. Though she felt largely at ease, she noticed that a few residual shadows were still flickering about in the corner of her vision. She'd talk to Wilson later and ask him if there wasn't a way to get rid of those quickly. Honestly, what were the things – the quasi-physical manifestations of PTSD?

As the beefalo patties got properly browned she fetched an egg from the pantry, brought it down several times on one of the rocks lining the fire pit, and with a slight grunt of exertion managed to pry the shell apart. She dropped the egg into a buttery pan and was satisfied to see that the yolk hadn't broken.

She'd amazed Wilson the first time she'd cooked up a tallbird egg. Normal he just scrambled the things with some milk because they were too large to flip like a normal egg. Allena, however, had been making pancakes since she was ten and was very good at doing the whole no-spatula flipping thing. She'd buttered up the pan, waited until the white was solid, and tossed the whole egg into a perfect one-eighty. He'd actually applauded her. That had struck her as odd at the time, but she'd since learned that any technique or idea that could add variety to their diet out here – even if it was something as simple as a new way to cook an egg – was greatly appreciated.

She did the same thing now and was thrilled when the egg turned out perfectly. She slid it into a large bowl – the yolk was so large that it would overflow on a plate when popped – and divvied it up. Then she tossed a couple of beefalo patties on the edge of the bowl, buttered and jammed some toast, and brought a share to Wilson.

He was still hard at work, but a brilliant mind needed sustenance. She walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry," she said as he jumped slightly in his chair. "Didn't mean to startle you."

He dragged his eyes away from his work and smiled up at her. There were bags under his eyes, and now that she noticed it his hair was disheveled, too. He must have been up early. Still, he looked cheerful. "Not at all! I was just stricken with an epiphany this morning and needed to…"

He gestured vaguely at his worktable, which was spread with a baffling array of odd parts and components. "Got'cha," she said. "Well, I hate to interrupt, but how about taking a break for breakfast? I made you some brain food," she said as she held the yummy, yolky bowl of egg and sausage out to him.

"Oh!" He exclaimed upon seeing the banquet before him. "I thought I heard something sizzling. Well, I suppose I could take a few minutes…"

He stood up from his work and sat down by the fire. She sat down next to him and asked, "Is your work going well?"

He nodded through a mouthful of food. "Mmm." He swallowed. "Very, I think. A couple of hours and I ought to have the prototype finished. Might I ask you for some help securing a few pieces?"

She nodded. "I always love to help with your projects. Besides, I know I'm not going anywhere today." Wilson's excellent medical care could only ever do so much. Her legs were aching, her arm was sore, and her shoulders were screaming from carrying a heavy backpack around for two solid days. As she thought about that she smacked her head. "Oh, I forgot! I brought back some flowers." She hoped they were still fresh and uncrushed.

Wilson was actually slurping his bowl of egg down, utensils forgotten on his lap. He must have been in the middle of a breakthrough – he only forsook proper etiquette when he was really eager to get back to work. He lowered the bowl, licking the rich golden yolk from his lips. "Mmm. Wonderful. You really are good at preparing these…yes, you mentioned that you came across some flowers on your trip. What kind?"

She shrugged. "No clue. I haven't seen them before. Let me get them for you…"

She finished her food quickly and went to her pack. She pulled out the bushel of flowers – they'd withered slightly by then, but were still perfectly usable – and showed them to him.

He yelped. "Those…!"

She almost dropped them in alarm. "What? Are they poisonous?"

She shook his head and snatched them from her. "No! Those are the ones I make tea out of. I hardly ever see them, and you say you found a whole field of them?"

She recalled the excellent tea he'd made her a while back with a thrill of cheer. "Yes, this was mostly the only type I saw there. Say, do you think we might be able to transplant some over here this spring?"

He set his own bowl down and went to store the blooms right away. "I certainly hope so, though I've never had any luck with it. For some reason every time I dig them up they simply die."

"Well, we'll work on it this spring. As much as I'm looking forward to getting home, I don't want to neglect our survival, even if we're on the brink of a breakthrough."

He nodded seriously. "Quite. I've made that mistake in the past, jeopardizing my stability in a wild bid for freedom, and it was nearly the death of me. I actually once drove myself to the brink of madness in order to harvest Nightmare Fuel, you know."

She couldn't help the revulsion that welled up in her at his words. "You drove yourself mad? On purpose? Here I was just about to ask you what I could do to get rid of the shadows…"

His head twisted around sharply as he packed the flowers away. "What? You're seeing shadows? You didn't mention that!"

That's right, she'd forgotten that she hadn't told him about her dwindling sanity the previous day, only about the shadow's attack on her at night. "It's fine, I'm okay. It was pretty bad yesterday – I could see those things you mentioned, the crawling ones and the beaked things – but now it's just a few shadowy wisps on the edge of my vision. I feel fine, honestly, but…"

He returned, sat down, and popped the last bite of toast into his mouth. He chewed slowly, clearly deep in thought. "Well," he said with a gulp. "there are certain mushrooms that sharpen mental acuity, but they're rare and I tend not to harvest them outside of emergencies."

She waved the idea off. "It's fine. I'll just wait. They'll go away eventually, I'm sure. Worst case scenario I might need a bit of counselling from you," she finished jokingly. Then she recalled something he'd said last night. "Oh, by the way, what did you want to talk to me about? You mentioned something was bothering you."

He was just scraping the remains of his breakfast into his mouth, but at that he stilled. "Ah. Yes. That. Um…"

She tilted her head curiously. Wilson didn't normally say 'um'.

He looked like he was wrestling with something, searching for a way to broach whatever subject was troubling him. At last he blurted out, "When did Maxwell tell you about being hard at work?"

She blinked. "Huh? Sorry, what?"

He snapped his fingers agitatedly. Not angrily, just agitatedly. "At dinner you said that Maxwell had mentioned how hard he'd been working, and you asked him how that work was going. He'd not mentioned anything about his 'work' before that, nor did you mention anything like that from your first meeting." His tone wasn't accusatory, but it was a bit strained. "Did you have another meeting with him? One that you didn't mention to me?"

Oh.

She felt herself pale slightly as she realized her mistake. Of course; Maxwell had mentioned how hard he'd been working when he'd struck his deal with her. Of course Wilson thought her comment had sounded out of place – she hadn't told him about her unconscious meeting with Maxwell, and she hadn't had any intention of doing so.

Now, however…

She rubbed her temples. "Right. That. I'm sorry…"

She trailed off, considering what to tell him. Whatever happened, she would not tell him about the deal she'd made with Maxwell. She herself was already badly haunted by it, and she wasn't going to put that burden on Wilson as well.

He looked at her closely. "Mention what? Did you meet with Maxwell again sometime before Christmas?"

She sighed and nodded. "Yes. It wasn't a pleasant meeting, so I decided not to say anything about it. It was when I was…wounded. After the hound attack. Remember?"

Wilson looked baffled. "What? How is that possible? I was with you nearly the entire time, and you were unconscious the entire time."

She said, "Maxwell, evidently, has the ability to invade people's dreams. He visited me while I was struggling through the worst of it." She wasn't about to tell him the whole thing, but she could certainly tell him parts of it. "He decided to have some fun tormenting me over my injured state, and trying to heap the blame on you for not doing enough to protect me." She rolled her eyes as she said this. That particular gibe of Maxwell's hadn't held any water with her, not then and not now.

Wilson looked horrified. "What? He…" His expression darkened, and he said, "That son of a bitch."

She looked at him. Wilson was not a profane man by nature. The word was downright startling coming out of his mouth.

He flushed slightly at her expression, but said nothing.

She found her expression softening, and she took his hand firmly. "Wilson, calm down. Yes, Maxwell is a son of a bitch. But honestly, looking back on it now, the only reason I let myself get worked up over it was because I was so out of it. If he's desperate enough that he has to invade my mind while I have one foot in the grave to get a rise out of me, I think that says something about his position."

Wilson looked hesitant. "I suppose…but still, my dear, if he shows up again…"

She pursed her lips. "Maxwell is an annoying little toad, but I think our best bet is to keep treating him civilly. Please, Wilson," she took his hand in both of hers and looked up at him imploringly. "Just leave Maxwell to me. He's more talkative and responsive when I'm dealing with him, and it could be helpful for us to know what's on his mind."

Wilson looked upset at this, but relented with a sigh. "Yes, I must admit…I was stunned at how freely he spoke at our dinner. I've scarcely shared a conversation's worth of words with him in my three years here, and you had him complimenting you on the meal and toting turkey around to his own prisoners."

She thought back on that with a smile. "I hope he actually did as I asked him. Do you think a few decent people got a hot meal that night?"

Wilson nodded. "Yes, I imagine that Maxwell would have dismissed you entirely if he hadn't intended to do as you asked. He may be a lying snake, but he has some sense of…"

His eyes darted around as he searched for the word. "Gentleman's honor?" She suggested.

Wilson actually stuck his tongue out in disgust, and she laughed. He said, "I prefer not to share any descriptors with that man – most notably the word 'gentleman,' thank you very much!"

She grinned impishly. "Well, he is rather dapper, you have to admit. Have you seen that suit?"

Wilson actually growled, and she decided to reign in her ribbing. Her voice mellowed and she wrapped an arm around his waist. "He's nothing like you, though. I wasn't lying when I said you were one of the most attractive men I've ever met."

His eyes flickered down to hers, he returned her embrace, and in an instant he had captured her mouth with his.

Though initially surprised by the suddenness of his assault, she quickly relaxed into the embrace. She could sense mild desperation in his touch, and as his hands began roaming across her back – up to her hair, down to her hips, along her spine – she realized how much she had missed this sort of contact, too.

She keened as his lips left hers and his teeth sought out her ear. Though their contact was generally very modest – they were both content to spent much of their time sitting side-by-side at the fire, and anything more serious than a peck on the cheek was an occasion – he'd learned a surprising amount about where she was sensitive in the short amount of time they'd been together. Wilson was a meticulous and observant man, and the traits that so benefitted him in his scientific endeavors aided him greatly in his intimate pursuits as well. She admired him for that; for her part she could hardly tell which way was up when he was touching her.

Her hands grasped his hair as he lowered his teeth to her neck, but a moment later she felt a surge of cold envelop them both as a voice sounded behind them.

"Good day. I thought I'd return your dishe—oh, _my._ Am I interrupting something?"

Wilson jerked his head back and snarled as he turned to look at Maxwell, who was standing a few feet away with all the plates she'd lent him on Christmas stacked neatly in one hand. His expression was one of ersatz surprise as he gazed down on their awkward position by the fire.

Wilson looked like he was about to get up, but all at once Allena was gripped by a sudden surge of possessiveness.

Without an ounce of respect for the presence of the man behind them, she swung her leg over Wilson's waist, shoved him gently and sent him sprawling to the ground on his back. She straddled his waist and gripped his shirt firmly as she descended on him, lavishing him with kisses. She paid no mind to the man hovering above them.

Through the haze of rapacity that had caught hold of her she heard Maxwell say, voice tense, "It seems my presence is obviously not…ahem… _welcome."_

He seemed to be waiting for them to break off and acknowledge him, but Allena had no intention of doing so. Her normal modesty had vanished into a hormonal haze, and as she nipped Wilson's lower lip his hands came up to grab her hips. For a moment she thought he might force her off of him so he could confront his enemy, but his grip actually tightened. He drew her closer to him.

Maxwell tried again, and by the sound of it his jaw was clenched like a sprung bear-trap. "I was rather wondering if…you see, my new creation is…today is… _oh, forget it!"_

And with a noise of absolute disgust he vanished with a shadowy _crack!_ The dishes he'd been carrying clattered to the ground beside them.

The instant he was gone mischievous amusement welled up in her, and she reared back with a loud laugh. Her mirth was impossible to contain, and she ended up rolling off of Wilson onto the ground beside him, grasping her stomach as tears began to run down her face. "Well…at least now…we know…how to get rid of him!" She was wheezing with the lack of breath.

Wilson seemed to be catching his breath, and when he spoke he sounded downright tipsy. "Good heavens, where has that little vixen been hiding?"

She nearly shrieked with hilarity, but even as she did she felt her face warming like no other. What had she been thinking? What had she been _feeling?_

Over the next few minutes she petered off. Wilson was lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching her in pleased disbelief. His hair was horribly out of place, and she sat up with a small wince. "Oof. I'm sorry about that, Wilson. I have no idea what came over me."

He sat up as well, rubbing the back of his head. "Indeed. Honestly, my dear, what will Maxwell think of us?"

They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment. Then his mouth twitched, and they both broke out into gales of raucous laughter.

Finally Allena stood up, gathering the plates Maxwell had been kind enough to quite literally drop off. "Why don't you get back to work on your project? I'd love to see how it turns out, and I have enough to keep me busy for a few hours."

She took the plates over to the water basin to start washing them, though as she did so Wilson came over and wrapped his arms around her waist. He hummed in her ear. "Mmm. Yes, I suppose I ought to. Though I must say, my heart isn't quite in it anymore."

"Oh?" She asked, still breathless. It wasn't often he was like this. His voice had deepened, taking on a husky quality. There was a scent about him that made her feel lightheaded, her skin felt flushed and fevered…

His arms tightened, drawing her closer to him, and she shifted in a sort of pleasant discomfort. Voice low in her ear, he whispered, "I know these things ought not be rushed. That said, if I were a more depraved man…any less of a gentleman…"

His hips pressed against her more firmly, and she whimpered slightly—

She forced her hands to move, reaching around and pushing him gently, but firmly, away. He'd claimed responsibility for pacing their relationship, but it was high time she started reigning in her own impulses.

With a pained groan, he pulled away. "I'll resume my studies. Pardon me, my dear…"

He wrenched himself back to his worktable and sat down with a last heated look at her. She blushed and turned to the basin.

She washed the dishes fairly quickly – only a couple had anything resembling food left on them, the rest looked like they had been licked clean – and dried off her chilly hands. She didn't hear any sounds coming from Wilson's worktable, and when she looked over she saw his face resting in his hands, his fingers scratching lightly at his neatly pointed hairline.

His hair was terribly tousled, and she knew how much he hated that. She went over to his bag of toiletries and shifted things around until she found the comb she'd given him. She brought this over and began running it through his hair.

The sensation caused him to shiver slightly as she smoothed the comb slowly through his short, tangled black locks. She looked over his shoulder at the array of scientific implements before him, and as she did so an old poem popped into her head. Robert Frost had always been one of her favorite authors, and she'd memorized many of his writings.

As she worked Wilson's hair back into its normal, regal tufts, she began reciting Bond and Free to the best of her memory. "Love has earth to which she clings, with hills and circling arms about; wall within wall to shut fear out. But Thought has need of no such things, for Thought has a pair of dauntless wings."

His hands had raised reflexively towards his head, but now he laid them palm-down on his table, shifting a few of his papers aside as his fingers splayed out in relaxation. She combed, and continued. "On snow and sand and turf I see where Love has left a print trace of straining in the world's embrace; and such is Love, and glad to be…" She smoothed a lock of hair back from his face, gently caressing it into position. "But Thought has shaken his ankles free."

He let out a shuddering sigh of contentment as she went on. "Thought cleaves the interstellar gloom and sits in Sirius' disc all night... 'till day makes him retrace his flight with smell of burning on every plume, back past the sun to an earthly room."

She ran the comb through his now-smoothed locks a final time before reaching around and setting the comb down on the table beside his hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck and finished the poem. "His gains in heaven are what they are; yet some say Love, by being thrall and simply staying, possesses all in several beauty that Thought fares far…to find fused in another star."

She kissed the top of his head and let him go. He turned to look at her with a furrowed brow. "Robert Frost?"

She smiled and nodded. "He was always one of my favorites. Do you know many of his works?"

Wilson nodded. "I've never been much one for poetry, but even I admire the man his gift of words. He is quite the silver-tongued fellow."

"Was," she corrected. "He passed away around nineteen sixty, I believe."

Wilson took a deep breath and chuckled quietly. "My. Look at me, showing my age again. He was just gaining fame when I was settling down to begin my research. Are people truly still reciting his works a hundred years after they were published?"

She nodded. "A lot of his poems are classics, the sorts of things we study in high school literature classes."

Wilson shook his head. "I really cannot wait to see what your world is like. It occurs to me sometimes, you know, that my own home is truly and permanently beyond reach."

Her heart clenched. Of course. So much time had passed in the real world that it would be as unrecognizable to him as the Constant had been when he'd first arrived.

He continued, "But nothing thrills me more than the thought of starting a new life there with you."

He tilted his head up and she leaned down. They nuzzled noses, then he reached up and stole a quick kiss.

With that he turned back to his desk with a glint in his eye, wiggling his fingers excitedly. "Now, back to work! I'm sure I can finish this up in a few hours, then we can set it up and hope that Maxwell sends us some hounds to test it out on…"

She laughed lightly and left him to his work.

* * *

Over the next few hours he finalized his design and she spent a good long while holding things in place for him as he tightened them down and screwed them in. They took everything outside so they wouldn't have to move the device once it was completed, setting it up a few feet to the left of the entrance to the base.

At last, it was done. As Wilson fixed the last part on they stepped back to examine the device.

"Wow," she said. "It's a real…um…"

Wilson nodded at it. "Oddity," he concluded. He sounded quite proud of himself.

She concurred. It was a very strange contraption, a sort of giant horn constructed from several smaller horns and plated with gold. It had a curved indentation at the top in which rested the tallbird eye. The back of eye was coated in the viscous red goo she'd seen Wilson using earlier, and it seemed he'd used it as a glue to both cement and link the eye to the rest of the device. It trailed down to various locations looking almost like veins.

He looked closely at it, took a deep breath, then said, "Wait here."

He went back into the base and came out with his log suit on a few minutes later. "Alright, go ahead and stay behind me. Be ready to run back inside if anything…ah…goes wrong."

"You mean if it decides to shoot us instead of hounds?"

"Precisely, my dear."

He stepped forward and, making sure that Allena was properly behind him and not at risk of being shot, he flipped a switch on the device.

The eyeball shuddered grotesquely and blinked. It turned around to look at Wilson, its pupils contracted, and then…

It blinked again. It looked up at Allena where her head poked above Wilson's shoulders and blinked once more. Then it turned to start scanning the plains.

Allena stepped out tentatively. The eye paid her no mind.

She grinned. "Hey, looks like it recognizes us."

Wilson seemed cautiously optimistic. "Yes…now we must only hope it will 'recognize' the hounds as well. What should we call it?"

"You made it. What do you think?"

Wilson shrugged. "It's designed to shoot hounds. What would you name such a device?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Um. A…houndius shootius."

Wilson snorted with laughter. "A succinct and descriptive name. Houndius shootius it is." He cleared his throat and stepped forward importantly. "Houndius shootius, kindly…watch for hounds," he said in an authoritative voice.

The eyeball rolled around to look at him.

It seemed unimpressed with what it saw. It turned back and kept scanning the clearing.

They watched it for another minute or two, then Allena asked, "Want to go back inside and play cards?"

"I'd love to."

She had a pack of travel cards that she'd discovered wedged into a corner of her backpack from a trip she'd taken years ago with her sister, and they used this to play a variety of games. War was her favorite, though Wilson was more of a go-fish kind of man. They pulled out the deck and sat down to play, Chester curling up beside them, tongue flopping around happily.

They had a nice afternoon.

* * *

A blizzard blew up and the temperature, which had been fairly mellow since Christmas, dropped considerably. Even in the middle of the day they had to keep the fire stocked to avoid freezing. Her new gloves were positively invaluable during this time, and she thanked Wilson for them on more than one occasion. He puffed up like a peacock every time.

It was on day three of the blizzard that they finally got to see Wilson's invention put to the test. The wind had been howling continuously for hours, but as evening began to approach Allena realized that the wind wasn't the only thing that was howling.

Wilson had been taking a short nap, and even as she got up to wake him his head popped out of the tent, hair still mussed from sleep.

Allena jerked her head southward. "Hounds," she said.

Wilson's eyes flashed. "Goodie," he replied, already on the move. Unlike last time he had more than enough time to prepare for the attack, and he did so with impressive agility. In the space of three minutes he had strapped on his log armor, slung his spear over his back, and was now carting traps out front. She helped him with this and soon they had everything they needed for an attack. Half a dozen traps, fire and fang, were spread around the entrance to the base. A couple of heavy-duty snares were set up along the walls to catch any hounds that tried to sneak past the traps – if they stepped in them the snares would lash around the leg and leash them to the spokes sticking up out of the stone, allowing Wilson to kill them at leisure.

Everything was set. The houndius shootius was revolving slowly on the spot, unperturbed. Then, in the distance, the hounds emerged.

They flew out of the tree line, plowing through the snow and sending it flying. From where she stood Allena could count six. Two white, four black. "That's a lot of hounds," she remarked nervously. "I really hope your device works."

Wilson didn't look worried in the slightest. "Even if it does not, the traps and snares will be enough. I must ask that you retreat inside the base on my word if anything goes wrong, though."

"No problem," she said. Wilson knew what he was doing, and since she still had no armor if would be foolish of her to risk the hounds again. Her arm was still covered in vicious white scars, and she suspected by now that they were permanent.

The hounds drew closer. She drew her spear. The houndius shootius had not picked up on them.

She swallowed heavily. It was fine. Everything would be fine.

Wilson was glancing at his device with increasing agitation as the hounds drew closer. Just as he scowled at it in dismissal, however, its eye rolled around to the front, locking on to a target.

A huge black hound had just plowed through a snow drift. It was only about ten feet away from the houndius shootius and sprinting straight for them. Its teeth were bared, steaming drool dripping from its long white fangs—

It let out a shrill, pained yelp and fell to the ground as the houndius shootius shot a projectile out of its iris. Wilson had filled the base with small, round stones for ammunition, and it began firing these at a rate of one every six seconds or so. The first projectile had lodged in the lead hound's leg and sent it careening to the ground, and as another black hound emerged it changed targets to shoot at that one.

The rest of the hounds flew out of the snow one by one. A white one shot past the houndius shootius, which paid it no mind, and stepped straight into a fang trap. It fell snarling to the ground and Wilson leaped forward and rammed his spear into its neck in a quick jab before leaping back. He didn't want to be close to the fire traps if they went off, but the blow he'd dealt the downed hound was bleeding badly and would prove fatal within a few minutes.

The houndius shootius was rolling from target to target. Although it was slow to lock on and slow to fire, it fired with lethal force and accuracy. One hound went down instantly as a clean hole appeared in its forehead, and the one that had gone down initially only barely managed to regain its feet before taking another round to the chest.

In other words, it was a slaughter.

Allena watched in awe as the hounds were torn to pieces by Wilson's creations. The traps blasted them and filled them with fangs while the houndius shootius casually filled them with stones. Wilson barely ended up having to do anything.

One white hound did try to sneak around to blindside the houndius shootius, but it triggered one of Wilson's snares. It snarled and thrashed as the rope, hidden by the snow, tightened around its foreleg and pulled it tightly to the wall.

In little more time than it took Wilson to prepare for it, the battle was over. Six hounds lay lamed or dead on the snow before them, and Wilson disabled the remaining traps and walked around calmly putting them down.

He winced in anticipation of the burst of frost as he rammed his spear into the neck of the snared hound. There was a flash of cold blue light, and the snow around the hound crusted into ice. When Wilson turned back to her, he was wiping crisp white frost off his face. The other white hound had succumbed to its wounds already, and its blast had simply chilled the houndius shootius, with no effect.

Wilson glared at his device in severe irritation as it refused to stop shooting the corpses of the black hounds. "Stop!" He snapped at it. "You're tearing the pelts to pieces!"

It paid him no mind, lazily putting another round into the hound Wilson had just been about to skin. He leaped back as the stone shot by him, and with a noise of disgust he picked up the dead hound by the tail and began dragging it into the base. The houndius shootius put one more round into it as it went by before turning to find a new target.

"Can I just flip that switch on the back and turn it off while we skin the hounds?" She asked.

"Yes," he grunted as he dropped off the corpse. "Come to think of it, that would be smart."

She walked over and flipped the switch. The eye became still and blind.

"Well," she said in mild amazement. "It looks like it works. Mostly."

Wilson nodded, though he was still staring at it with mild distaste. "Not as well as I would have hoped. It triggered early enough, though I hope that once this snow melts it will be able to see them from farther away. Also, it didn't seem to see the white ones at all."

She had noticed that the eye had slid unseeingly over the two white hounds. Even the white hound that had sat thrashing against the wall had been totally ignored by it, despite it being a clearly hound-shaped target. "Well," she said in an encouraging tone. "It sure did a number on the ones it did see. It got that one right between the eyes." She pointed to one of the fallen beasts, the one that had been killed in a single shot.

Wilson finally allowed himself a dash of satisfaction. "Yes, well, I suppose it is rather impressive. I used a high-pressure compression mechanism to propel the projectiles out, along with a lubricated funnel to reduce wear-and-tear from the stones…"

The two worked into the night to skin and de-fang all of the hounds. He got two sizeable blue gems from the ice hounds, much to his satisfaction.

"Say," she asked as she tugged the pelt off of one of the ice hounds. "What does dog meat taste like?"

"Not much better than spider meat, sadly. Otherwise I'd be inclined to thank Maxwell for sending me monthly feasts."

She snickered. "Well, at least we can thank him for the pelts and gems."

The wind had died down a bit during the attack, but by the time they were finishing up it had returned full-force. They staggered into the base and huddled by the fire. Wilson taught her how to treat the pelts and soon they were all strung up to dry.

Wilson scrambled up a tallbird egg for them as a celebratory treat, and with a few pieces of frog jerky it made a pretty decent meal. They were covered in blood from the hounds, so Wilson boiled them up some water and they washed off the gore before retiring to bed.

Allena, exhausted from the last few hours of cold, intensive work, collapsed into her bag and was asleep in moments. Almost as soon as she closed her eyes, though, unease began to pervade her mind.

* * *

She dreamed. In her dream she found herself standing on the edge of a massive cliff, and she suspected she knew which one. The one which housed Webber's home, which appeared to be something of a plateau on top. It was midday, but such was the thickness of the clouds that it was nearly dark. The wind ripped along so quickly that, had she been there in person, she'd have been afraid of being blown off the edge. She stood looking out over the southern expanse for an indeterminable amount of time before noticing that she wasn't alone.

"Beautiful day for a calamity, is it not?" Maxwell asked conversationally.

Anxiety had been welling in her, and at his words it coalesced into fear. What did he have planned?

"What, indeed? Never you mind. It will be a while before you need deal with my creation. I intend to test it out on some of the others, first."

Test what out…?

Even as she thought it, she saw something in the distance. It looked as though a bolt of black lightning had shot out of the sky, turning the snow around it to steam and causing a huge cloud of vapor to boil up. It was miles and miles away, so far that she couldn't even hear the low clap of thunder until perhaps twenty seconds had passed. A form, huge and indistinct, began stirring in the cloud and it seemed to her that the Constant shuddered as the beast within took its first, monstrous step.

Maxwell reached over and took her chin in his hand, turning her head away before she could catch a glimpse of the creature's emerging form. "Now, now. All in good time, my dear." His fingers trailed down, lightly dusting her throat, and she shivered. She found the touch quite pleasant in spite of herself. The man, though…

He _tsk'd_ at her. "Am I really so deplorable? Honestly, my dear, I can be every bit the gentleman that…friend…of yours can," he said distastefully. He leaned down and gazed at her, cold fire in his eyes. "As you'll no doubt see in time."

She wanted to draw away from him, but she was quite literally unable to move a muscle. Except for her gaze, that was, and this she turned on him in a glare that she hoped would hide the extremity of her terror.

He chuckled, and she pulled her eyes away to try and catch of glimpse of whatever was making its way steadily north.

"Never you mind. It will come in due time, but you, at least, have nothing to fear. At least, not in the long run."

He sighed contentedly as he caressed her neck. "A bit of pain and it will all be over. You remember our bargain, no doubt."

She felt cold terror for a moment, followed by a surge of defiance. She didn't care how bad this thing was. She and Wilson would–

Maxwell chuckled darkly. "Ah, yes. I do look forward to seeing that confrontation. I confess myself impatient, but good things come to those who wait, yes?"

He stroked her cheek, then turned away. "I will wait. I will watch. And when the time comes, I will see exactly what you're made of.

_And by that I mean_

_I look forward to inspecting your entrails once the Deerclops is done with you."_

She shuddered at the voice that had needled suddenly into her skull. It sounded like Maxwell; it had his voice, his accent, his subtle, teasing tone—

_But it wasn't him._

She didn't understand how she knew, but some part of her – maybe a part that was only awake when she was asleep – did. It told her that the owner of that voice was something else. Something utterly inhuman, unfathomably cruel, and very…very…old.

The barest sliver of sun poked out just then, and at last her muscles relaxed enough that she was able to twist her neck. She didn't look towards whatever monstrosity had just let out an earth-shattering roar of aggression, though, but rather behind her to where she knew Maxwell's shadow would be lying on the snow.

There. Once again she saw it – a man bound, this time to the ground, straining against some bleak bindings that seemed intent on depriving him of any form of freedom. As she watched, a black hand rose from the ground. It reached towards her, gesturing wildly.

Run. Hide. Get–

_DOWN YOU MISERABLE WRETCHED WORM!_

And as the thunderous voice boomed in her ear she woke, sitting bolt upright in bed to the howling of the storm.

* * *

An hour later Wilson emerged to find her shivering by the firepit. It wasn't from the cold, though. It had already stopped snowing by the time he'd come out, she was wrapped up in her blanket and all of her extra clothes, she was curled around a hot thermal egg, and the fire was roaring. After waking she'd sat in her bag for a long white, skin crawling with the memory of her dream. She'd quickly gotten up and gotten dressed, desperate for light and fresh air.

Wilson, eyelids heavy with sleep, walked up to her. It was still pre-dawn, and as he walked up to her he shouted, "What are you doing up so early?" Though the snow had stopped the wind was still ferocious, and she could barely hear him over its wild howling. Thank goodness their walls blunted the worst of the buffets.

"Bad dream," she replied in a toneless yell.

He stumbled a bit as a hard gust dipped below their walls, but he made his way over and plonked down beside her. "Care to talk about it?"

She was staring into the fire as is flickered madly. Chester was curled up beside her, and as indifferent to the weather as he usually was even he seemed somber today. She shook her head. "I don't know. I mean, it was just…"

She thought back on it and her trembling redoubled briefly. Then, Wilson placed a hand on her back, and she calmed. Not much, but a bit. "Wilson," she said tiredly. "I think something bad is coming. Something really bad."

He reached over to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "Did you see Maxwell again?"

She nodded, mouth dry. He didn't press her. He knew by now that she didn't like talking about Maxwell, though he didn't fully understand why. "I think whatever he's been working on is on its way," she said.

Wilson nodded stoically, and hugged her tight. "Don't worry. We'll be ready for it."

She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed, a distant roar echoing in her mind and black lightning flashing behind her eyes. "I hope so," she whispered quietly.


	20. Calamity

Two days had passed without incident, and Allena was feeling hopeful.

The shadows had all but vanished from the edge of her vision. Every now and then she would catch a glimpse of one – usually at dusk – but they would always been gone after a good night's sleep.

At that moment she was sitting by the fire drawing up a design. Wilson had mentioned that most of his brainstorming went on during winter, since it was unwise to exert oneself physically during the hard season. She'd recalled her resolution to sketch out a basic schematic for a flowhive so they could have a regular honey supply come spring, and that's what she'd been doing for the last two days.

She had a basic, workable outline of it. She wanted to do a bit more work on it then show it to Wilson, see what he thought about it. Some of the parts were fairly detailed, and it would take a lot of work, but with the tools she'd brought it would be manageable.

Wilson rounded the corner, having gone out several times to pick up some more lumber from his nearby store. They'd run dangerously low and Wilson had vowed to bring some back no matter how bad the weather was. That morning, however, they'd awoken to find the blizzard gone, the day bright, and the sunshine even teetering on the brink of warmth.

Wilson had stood staring at the sky for a long moment when he'd first emerged from the tent. Then he'd proclaimed, "Well, the worst of it is over. Another month to spring, I'd say."

And he'd gone out to fetch lumber.

She'd been bubbling with optimism, and had even half-managed to convince herself that the dream about the monster Maxwell had mentioned

_it will be a while before you need deal with my creation_

had just been a dream.

Wilson dropped off the last load and said, "There. That ought to keep us warm for another week. What is that you have there?"

She'd tried keeping the design to herself, but he'd spotted it, and now she fidgeted nervously. She'd never drawn anything remotely resembling a schematic before, and while her artistic skills weren't bad she was trepid about sharing her work with him. He was the scientist, after all; she, a novice. "It's…uh…well, I thought that I might…um…I know you're interested in a regular honey supply, and there's this thing we used to have in my backyard when I was younger, and I thought I might try…uh…"

He was looking at her curiously, and walked over to examine her drawing. She handed it to him timidly.

As he began to inspect it, his expression turning totally clinical, she started babbling. "It isn't done. I mean, I just thought I'd try sketching out the basics. And I never actually saw the inside of the thing, I just looked at some designs online, and I tried to kind of copy them here, but it's been years and I'm sure I–"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Flowhive…tell me, how does it work?"

She gulped. "Uh. Basically it's a hive with movable inner parts. You see, we make the comb out of wood, and it's sort of divided in half. Both halves are connected to these turnable parts up here," she pointed. "And when they're like this…they're like normal combs and hold the honey. But there's a keyhole over each column, and when you twist it, it rotates the combs so they're shaped like this…" she pointed to the broken hexagonal diagram. "…which allows the honey to flow out into a jar. It's really efficient, because the bees seal the combs off when they're full, so they don't even notice it. They're all out here…" She pointed to another part of the diagram. "…so it doesn't disturb them at all. We harvested tons of honey from ours growing up, and none of us ever got stung. We never bothered each other."

Wilson's eyes popped open as it clicked in his head. "Wait…alright, let's go over this again…"

She did so, explaining her inexpert diagrams as well as she could, and by the time it was nearing lunch time Wilson looked downright ecstatic.

He grinned and began snapping his fingers excitedly. "This is marvelous! If this works we'll have all the honey we could want, and I won't have to spend hours creating a protective suit just to cut the stings down to non-lethal levels!"

Insecurity fading, she asked, "Yeah? So, it's…good?"

"Good? This is brilliant!"

A thrill of elation raced up her spine. Wilson thought her design was _brilliant._ "I know the blueprints aren't great, but–"

He waved her off. "Leave the details to me. I'll get working on this as soon as I have the time. I was wondering what my next project would be, now that I've finished the houndius shootius…"

She still giggled every time she heard that name. She really hadn't expected it to stick.

His eyes were darting back and forth minutely as he took in her crude schematic, and he seemed lost in thought. After a minute or two he tugged himself back to reality and rolled up the paper. "May I keep this?"

She nodded. "Of course. Let me know if I can do anything to help."

"You've done more than enough. Say, how are you feeling? Would you care to go on a hike today?"

A hike? "That's an unusual suggestion. I know it's nice out, but is it really hiking weather?"

He stood up and stretched. "I always go on a hike after a long storm like this. You aren't the only one who gets cooped up, you know."

Ah. That made sense. It had been driving her a bit crazy, but she'd assumed he was used to being stuck in camp for days on end during winter. "Sure. Where would you like to go? To see the pigs, maybe? Or would that be too far?"

He hummed. "Actually, I was thinking you might take me somewhere I haven't been before. Avoiding the spiders, of course."

"What?" she said in surprise. "You want to go exploring? But…"

She thought about it for a moment, and got an odd flash of intuition. Did he…still feel bad about flipping out over her last expedition?

He got an evasive look in his eyes. "Ah, well, it wouldn't really be exploring. You've been there, yes? And I trust that with your familiarity with the area, combined with my general expertise on the region, we ought to be fine…"

Her lips twitched up in a smile. He wanted her to know that he trusted her.

That actually felt good. She'd been second-guessing herself a lot lately, and his vote of faith – along with his commendation of her design – lifted spirits that she hadn't even realized were depressed. "Alright. Let's get ready. But let's bring along some extra stuff, okay? Medical supplies, our spears, you know…"

He nodded, and his eyes flashed. "Yes. And my blow gun, I think. I'd rather avoid your friend Webber, but I wouldn't mind meeting those walruses…"

She didn't say anything, though the mention made her uncomfortable. He really wanted to kill those things.

An hour later they were all packed and ready to go. She stuck an extra pocketknife in her waistband and they took off. "South, yes?" Wilson asked.

She nodded. "I passed through the living forest on my way back," she said. "Nice sign, by the way."

"Thank you."

They hiked up to the beefalo field, and Allena saw that they were all out and about shifting the soft snow aside to find anything edible. They looked tense as Wilson approached, but Allena picked her friend out of the herd – he was hard to miss given his size – and held out the huge tuft of grass she'd brought along for him.

He let out a loud bellow upon seeing her, and immediately walked up and took the food out of her hand. She bellowed back at him and got out more grass. "Hey, buddy. How are you doing?"

He snorted. She reached out and cautiously patted his neck. He didn't mind, merely sniffed her in hopes of more food.

As before the herd followed her across the plain. Wilson was obviously nervous of them, particularly of the young one. "Gah!" He said as he swatted it away for the umpteenth time. "It keeps trying to bite me!"

Indeed, the young beefalo kept trying to nibble on Wilson. She pursed her lips tightly. She'd strung a small tuft of grass to the back of his shirt before they'd left, disguising the movement behind a kiss and a hug. He hadn't noticed.

She stifled her laughter and said, "Weird. I don't…" she snorted slightly and tried to pass it off as a sneeze. "I don't know why it's doing that. Maybe it just likes you."

She covered her mouth to hide her smile, and Wilson looked at her strangely. By the time they reached the end of the field he whipped around to glare at the young beefalo, who had lunged for his backside a dozen times in the last fifteen minutes. "Will you get away!?"

The beefalo looked at him, disappointed, and gave a low moan. She snorted with laughter and Wilson narrowed his eyes at her. "Aw, come on Wilson, he just wants to be your friend."

His gaze became suspicious as she struggled to keep in her mirth, and at last his hand snaked around to his back. "Are you quite certain the thing isn't–"

He cut off as his hand found the small bundle of grass. The young beefalo bellowed in excitement as he tugged it off, and his gaze flattened out to a look of pure, unadulterated pique.

She started wheezing with laughter, clutching her stomach and trying not to startle the beefalo. Wilson's hand jutted out abruptly and shoved the grass into the beefalo's face, and the adolescent beast took it with a happy grunt. "Funny," he said, tone waspish. She covered her mouth with her hand.

"S-s-s-sorry, Wilson. I c-c-couldn't help it!"

And she burst out laughing again.

He shook his head and, with a last long-suffering look at the sky as though to say _this is what you've saddled me with?_ they kept walking.

They approached the tree line, and as they did so they saw that the walruses clearly hadn't returned for the remains of their hound. The corpse had been preserved by the extremely cold weather, but it had warmed up the last two days and the carcass was now decomposing horribly.

Allena's hands clasped onto her face again, this time to block out the smell. "Argh! Oh, that is awful!"

Wilson wasn't bothered in the slightest, but he seemed to get a mild, vindictive kick out of her discomfort. "Yes, dead things are rather unpleasant!" He said, chuckling. "Too bad about the pelt. We might have been able to use that."

Wilson held onto the ice hound pelts for shade in the summer. They didn't quite emanate cold, but the shade they cast when he strung them up was unusually refreshing. He had entire chests full of summer supplies tucked away behind the base. The ice gem she'd pulled out of the hound's stomach was also in there. He said he'd see if he couldn't focus its power into a cooling apparatus for them that summer. She'd arrived on the cusp of fall and had therefore missed the worst of the heat, but midsummer got dangerously hot.

They paused at the edge of the field, a short ways away from the hound. "So, the hives and such are in that direction," Allena pointed straight. "The statue is in that direction," she pointed a bit to the west. "And the cliffs are over there somewhere." She pointed further to the west.

Wilson nodded. "I cannot help but wonder at your description of them as the edge of a plateau. Shall we head in that direction and see if there isn't a way to the top somewhere? It would be nice to get a decent view of the region."

She was, again, surprised. He was pointing further west than she'd been, and that was completely new territory. Still, she suspected there may well be a way up in that direction, so she said, "Alright, if you're sure. It is still winter, though."

"Yes," he said seriously. "I know. But with your description of the area I trust our ability to navigate at least a small portion of this region safely."

She nodded, grateful for his support, and they started off.

Sure enough, they eventually came to the edge of a rocky outcropping which led to an upward sloping plane. The ledge was a bit steep, but manageable.

"Allow me," Wilson said as he stepped forward and hoisted himself up. Once he was up he offered her his hand, which she took gratefully.

They looked out on what Allena strongly suspected would be a plain, dry, grassy field in summer, but now look like a totally blank canvas. There was nothing but white as far as she could see.

It sloped gently upwards into the distance, and Wilson nodded in that direction. "Shall we?"

"Yup," she said, and they started walking.

Because the slope was uphill and getting steeper the further they went, Allena's legs got tired fairly quickly. They stopped for a short rest a few times. Even Wilson was getting winded when they finally caught sight of the edge.

Allena wiped the cold sweat from her brow and grinned. The view from that edge would be stunning, no doubt, given how tall the cliff had been. She took a moment to catch her breath, then started jogging for it.

"Ah, it looks like that will—hey! Wait for me!" Wilson cried.

He started running after her but tripped on a snow-hidden obstacle. She turned around and grinned at him. "Have a nice trip? See you next fall!" She called when it was clear he wasn't hurt.

He stuck his tongue out and regained his feet, then began chasing after her.

It was a race to the cliff. She laughed loudly as she neared the edge, slowing down to avoid—

She froze as the plains, forests and valleys came into view. The breath was knocked from her face as she beheld the panorama. She could really see everything up there.

The tallfort, nests scattered and birds trampled into revolting red stains on the snow.

The walrus' camp, smashed to pieces, inhabitants nowhere to be seen.

The forest, a swath of destruction torn straight through it. And at the end of this swathe…

_Beautiful day for a calamity…_

Wilson ran up to her. "Ah! I keep forgetting how fast you— _what the hell is that?"_

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The beast that lumbered through the forest towards them was unlike anything she'd ever seen.

It had to have been thirty feet tall, at least. It had a huge, barrel-shaped chest, its entire torso covered in thick white hair. Its limbs were thin, long, and black; stretching, grasping fingers tipped with thick, strangely human nails hung from the ends of its bony, spindly arms. She suspected its feet were cloven hooves three feet in diameter going by the red footprints leading away from the tallfort. Worst of all was its head, though.

A soaring, eight-point rack with tines like spears spread out magnificently; a gaping, stupid mouth full of jagged white fangs dripped with ropes of thick, clear saliva; and right in the middle of its face, a single, slate-grey eye rolled around slowly, clearly searching for something else to test its indominable might on.

_I look forward to inspecting your entrails once the_

"Deerclops," she gasped.

_is done with you…_

"Maxwell's creation," Wilson said faintly.

She nodded.

Allena's mind was threatening to seize up with the impossibility of what lay before them. That thing was beyond anything they were capable of taking down. There was no way…

Wilson's chest was heaving, and his eyes were wide and staring. For the first time since she'd known him, he looked abjectly terrified.

The Deerclops was lumbering slowly through the forest. It did not bother to brush the trees aside; it simply plowed through them, heedless of their presence. They fell with shuddering cracks as it made its way through the timber like she and Wilson might make their way through a field of tall grass.

She steeled herself, closed her eyes, and forced herself to think. There had to be a way to kill this thing. There had to be something they could do. What?

There was no way they could shoot it to death. Even if Wilson had ten times as many darts, they likely wouldn't be able to penetrate the thick hide the beast boasted. Even from here she could tell its hair would probably be a foot thick. No, they would have to go for a weak spot. Where?

Its coat seemed thin around its neck, an inversed mane. Wilson would likely have the strength to pierce it, but to do that he would need to reach it. There was no way they could reach it without toppling it.

It passed through a break in the trees and Allena got a glimpse of its legs. To topple it they would need to sever the tendons and saw at the joints, but all of its joints were too high to reach. Unless they could trip it…

Trip it.

She shivered, went to the edge, and looked down.

Bulging masses of thick, strong webbing were splayed out across the ground below them. From where she stood now, looking down, she could see the spider fort extended beyond what she'd seen from the ground. Eight surrounded where she thought Webber's cave was, but there were another three massive ones in an adjacent clearing, hidden by a line of trees.

"We need to…we need to go," Wilson said.

She turned to look at Wilson, drawn out of her reverie. "What?"

His eyes had gotten a flat, vacant look and he said, "We need to go. We need to return to base, pack up what we can, and find somewhere to—

_Run! Hide! Get—_

—take shelter from that thing until it passes. Maxwell cannot keep it here forever, not unless he plans to kill us all. He must have simply intended it for…ahhh," he said in dawning realization.

"What?" She asked.

"Spring cleaning," he said slowly. "He didn't simply mean us, the survivors. We are his sole source of entertainment here, he wouldn't want wipe us all out. But I imagine that, like me, others have secured stable bases and settled down. Become complacent. Look at what it did to the tallfort, to the igloo."

Allena looked more closely and saw that the Deerclops had beelined from one to the other, smashing anything resembling order or structure, scattering it and killing anything nearby. "You think it wants to destroy our bases and supplies?"

He nodded. "Maxwell wants us to struggle, but we have become comfortable. The Deerclops…will fix that," he concluded darkly.

Allena shook her head. No. No way. This wasn't fair.

She watched it lumbering by, lazy and unstoppable. She wondered how many forts and bases it had ravaged, how many people it had killed. Many? None? Even if it had only just begun its rampage, Allena was certain it would continue its trek until its job was finished, scouring every stable structure from the face of the map.

She stared at it, and as she did she came to a conclusion. "Wilson, we need to make a choice."

He glanced at her. "What?" He asked.

She took a deep breath. "We need to choose. Give up everything we've worked for and hope we make it to spring so we can rebuild, or…"

He shook his head. "There is no other choice. That thing cannot be killed. How would we even injure it?"

She moved to the edge and pointed down.

He looked, and frowned. "Spiders? No doubt it would be agitated by the bites, but…"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "The webs. If we can get the spiders to tangle the Deerclops up, we can…we can sever its tendons, damage its joints. If we can do that, lame it—"

"We have the chance to overwhelm it," Wilson finished. "But there is no way we could gather enough silk to trip it up this quickly."

The Deerclops paused in its trek, looking down curiously. Going by its location, Allena estimated it must have reached the odd statue she'd camped beside. It was staring down at it quizzically, head tilted to the side, drooling. It seemed unable to decide what to do with the statue.

"What if we didn't have to gather the silk?" She asked. "What if we could just ask them to make a trip-line?"

Wilson opened his mouth to reply, then clamped it closed with as he realized what she was suggesting. "No. That _thing_ wanted to eat you."

She raised an eyebrow and nodded at the Deerclops. "I think _that_ thing would make a better meal, don't you?"

Wilson did not reply.

She swallowed heavily. "Wilson…I don't want to fight that thing. But if we don't…"

He looked pained. "It would take months to build up a workable base again. Months before we could even attempt the gateway."

"And who's to say Maxwell won't just send it again next winter? Most people do spring cleaning every year. His would just be in winter."

Wilson's eye twitched.

The Deerclops let out a long, low snort and turned away from the statue. Maybe it was a national monument or something. Anyways, it began walking in circles around the statue, possibly looking for other signs of civilization to annihilate.

"So?" She asked. "Do we run…or do we try to fight?"

He looked over at her. "If I say fight, I assume you won't wait safely at base waiting for me to take care of it, will you?"

She raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

He sighed deeply. "I didn't think so. Well…" He licked his lips. "Let us pay your friend a visit."

* * *

The Deerclops was tromping lazily through the forest looking for things to destroy – it had left a whirling circle of matchstick trees around the statue – but seemed to have no clear destination. If it kept going straight, however, its trajectory would take it straight past the spider stronghold and eventually to their base.

They ran. They ran back the way they came, descended the rise, and began running along the edge of it until they neared their destination.

Allena could just faintly feel the shaking of the ground as the Deerclops stomped through the forest a quarter-mile or so away. She turned to Wilson and said, "Alright. I'm going in to talk to Webber."

He was rigid and pale. He didn't look happy. "If you need help, just call. I will come."

She nodded back. "I'll be fine. Be back soon."

She made for the cave.

She hopped through the gaps in the webbing until she reached the cave entrance. She couldn't stand outside and call in to him without alerting the spiders, and she also didn't have her flashlight this time. She couldn't draw her spear, not if she wanted to negotiate with him…

So she walked into the darkness unarmed and unarmored.

Once inside the cave she waited, but heard nothing. She called softly, "Webber?"

A slight shuffling sound somewhere to her right. Then she heard a rasping yawn. "Hmmm…?"

"Webber?" She called again. "It's Allena. Can we talk?"

"…"

She heard the sound of footsteps. Then a low clicking, as of fangs being brought together rapidly. Soon she felt a presence very, very nearby.

She remained still.

Finally, a voice. "Ahhh…llena?"

The voice sounded a bit hazy, almost as though he were still half-asleep. She tried jogging his memory. "Yes, I came by a week or so ago. We sang songs, remember?" And she sang, "There was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile…"

A soft, raspy voice joined in. "He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile…he bought a crooked cat…which caught a crooked mouse…"

They finished together: "And they all lived together in a little crooked house."

The voice was quite for another moment, then, "Allena! Allena came back. Allena came back to Webber, to sing songs. But Allena hit Webber last time…"

She shivered. "Yes, I know, but you tried to eat me. Do you remember?"

Webber made a low, sad keening. "We only wanted Allena to stay…will Allena stay with Webber this time?"

She cleared her throat. "Webber, Allena can't stay anywhere for much longer. There's something big coming, and it's too much for us to handle by ourselves. Me and my friend Wilson need help to kill it. We were wondering if you could help?"

Webbed made more clicking sounds, and she felt the familiar sensation of one of his legs reaching out and start poking her repeatedly. Agitatedly. "Webber, help kill big monster? We feels it, stomp-stomp-stomping around. Too big, we thinks. We just hide. It will pass, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes, it will probably leave you alone if you don't bother it…but Webber, how are your spider friends doing? It's been winter for an awful long time, and it'll be a while longer before it gets warm."

Webber moaned. "We are hungry! So very hungry. Always hungry during cold times. Winter is not much fun."

She reached out and found Webber's arm. His human-ish one, not one of the other ones. She felt around until she touched his hand. "Webber, my friend and I have strong weapons. We think we can kill it, but only if we can reach it. It's too tall, but if we could trip it, we might be able to stab it. Do you think…" She squeezed his hand gently. "Do you think that you could ask your friends to make a web? A thick, strong web between the trees, one that will tangle up the Deerclop's legs if we can lead it over here?"

Webber trilled curiously. "Trip it? Trip the big bad monster? And you and your friend…you would…?"

"Stab it to death, yes. Webber, it's coming for us. It's coming for our home, our own nest. We don't want anything from it. We just want it dead. If you trip it, we'll kill it. Then you can have the meat. I've seen it. It's bigger than the biggest beefalo you've ever seen, and it will have so much meat that none of your friends will even have to fight over it. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Webbed squealed excitedly. "Oh! No fighting, yes! My friends fight so much when there is no food. Sometimes they eat each other when they get very hungry, and it makes us sad. We can have all the food?"

She squeezed his hand again. "All of it. We have more than enough food at our base. We don't need it."

There was silence. For several minutes, Webber stood there thinking. His hand was cold in hers, but after a while it squeezed hers back. "Webber will help! Webber will talk to friends, tell them to make the strongest web ever. We will do this. What will Allena do?"

She felt hope flare up in her chest, hot and galvanizing. "I'll go get Wilson. We have our weapons, we're all ready to go. When you and your friends are ready, you come and get us. We'll lead the Deerclops into your web, and once it falls we'll do the rest. Okay?"

Webbed squealed again. "Yay! Yay, yay! Fun, fun, fun! Okay, Webber gets friends now!"

And he ran past her out of the cave and started screeching.

Oh, crap.

It took her a split second to decide between hiding in the cave and hoping Webber's friends didn't find her in there, or sprinting for the exit before all of his friends woke up. Maybe Webber would tell them not to eat her. Maybe he would ask them to be nice.

Yeah, no. She ran.

She blew past him just as spiders started to emerge, and with a few rapid bounds she was in the forest.

She heard the screeching of a dozen spiders as she made for the trees, but Webber's screeching stood out above all of them. The spiders, which had begun to run after her, stopped. Then she only heard Webber's voice.

She listened for a moment, curious about what a spider conference sounded like, but shook her curiosity off and went to find Wilson.

He was waiting where she'd left him, pacing anxiously. When she emerged, he relaxed. "Allena. What news?"

She ran up to him and grinned fiercely. "The battle is on."

Wilson looked briefly amazed, then sighed deeply. "I was afraid you'd say that."

He closed his eyes and turned away. He brought his hands to his face and remained still for a long minute.

When that minute was up his shoulders fell, void of tension. He reached around and drew his spear. He inhaled deeply, chest expanding with the breath, and he turned to her on the exhale. When he opened his eyes, the fear was gone. So was the anger, the uncertainty, and anything resembling warmth. Once again, shards of obsidian stared out at her, and her shivers froze solid.

He was ready. She needed to be, too.

She walked over to him. Her rabbit-fur gloves enveloped the fingers of his free hand, and he looked down at her. "Wilson, whatever happens, I want you to know…I don't regret anything."

This statement held more meaning than he knew, more than she intended to ever let him know, but she needed him to know what she meant…in case he found out someday. About her. About the deal she'd made with Maxwell. "I don't regret coming here, I don't regret a minute I've spent with you, and I don't…I don't regret anything else. And I never will. Okay?"

Mild disconcertion flashed in his eyes. "Allena? Is there something…?"

The bushes rattled behind them, and Webber burst into the clearing. Wilson's eyes left hers, locked on Webber…

…and he let out a shrill, panicked shriek.

Webber jumped, startled, as Wilson flew back screeching.

"Is this Allena's friend? Is he okay? He does not sound okay."

Allena dropped to her knees laughing hysterically. Well, if she was about to die, at least her last moments with Wilson were spent laughing.

She stood up and wiped her eyes. "He's fine, Webber. He's just…afraid of spiders."

Webbers mouth was hanging open, and now he cocked his head in confusion. What an alien concept that must have been to him.

She snickered and asked, "So, is the web ready?"

He nodded. "Yes. We turned one of the nests into a good, strong web for tripping."

"That was fast."

Webber grinned. It looked very strange with his fangs. "Yes! Webber's friends work very fast when there is food to be had. Now, you get Deerclops?"

She glanced back at Wilson, who was just getting over the emergence of their new, possibly cannibalistic friend. "Yup. Now, we go get Deerclops."

Webber smiled and licked his fangs.

* * *

Wilson had agreed that all of his strength would be necessary to fell the Deerclops once it was down, so she would be the one to fetch it. It had lumbered past the spider stronghold a short while ago. She needed to grab its attention, loop it around so it was oriented correctly, and drag it to the trap Webber had shown her.

Now it was just ahead of her, back to her, lumbering away. She wanted a good lead on it so she stood a long ways back and took a deep breath.

 _Well, here goes,_ she thought.

"HEY, BIG DUMB UGLY STUPID-HEAD! LOOK AT ME! NEENER-NEENER-BOO-BOO!"

She'd never been much one for witty banter. That said, her call did the job.

The Deerclops stopped.

It turned.

Its eye locked on her, and its pupil dilated, forcing the slate-grey iris into a thin ring of silver, then…

It opened its mouth, and the sound that emerged sent her reeling.

It was nearly concussive, and she stumbled badly for a moment before regaining her orientation. It left her ears ringing horribly, and she had to snap her fingers beside her several times before she came to the conclusion – she was deaf.

Well, maybe not completely. She could still sense the sound, she just wasn't processing it. It was as though the roar of the Deerclops had simply booked all of her auditory input, and she wasn't sure for how long. She hoped her hearing would return soon.

 _I hope my hearing will return, period,_ she thought wildly as she reoriented herself.

She expected the Deerclops to begin lumbering after her as slowly as it had been lumbering through the forest, and her heart leapt into her throat when she saw it advancing twice as quickly. Could she outrun that?

She had no choice. She turned and began sprinting.

She jumped over fallen trees and dodged around anything that would provide some meager barrier to its progress. Behind her she felt trees falling to the ground, though she couldn't hear them cracking. She imagined it must have been a dreadful sound, though.

She glanced back as she entered a small clearing to see that the Deerclops had been forced to slow down slightly to plow through the thick forest. She was still in the clear, but it was gaining on her. So long as she didn't—

She tripped.

A small branch caught her foot and she went sprawling. She felt a low rumble in her ears that she strongly suspected was the Deerclops expressing pleasure.

She rolled over to see its clawing, spindly black fists bearing down on her. She rolled to the side as the blow came down on the ground beside her.

The ground shook, and jagged spines of ice erupted from the earth around her. By sheer chance she wasn't hit, though she felt a slight stinging on her shoulder blade as one shard just nicked her.

She forced herself to her feet and ran.

The Deerclops, having missed its attack, had to pause to regain its balance. She heard another deep, thundering rumble and groaned in pain as her ears were assaulted by the sound she could no longer hear.

She oriented herself and, when she was at the right place, slowed down to allow the Deerclops to get slightly closer before juking into a sharp right turn.

She almost fell again and she felt a rush of cold as the Deerclops tried to hit her once more. A quick glance back showed that it had smashed the ground again, forcing more icy shrapnel out of the earth.

She was close. Very close. She ran for the break in the trees that marked where the trap was, and forced on another burst of speed as she sensed her pursuer tearing furiously after her.

A bit further…a bit further…

There!

She saw it – the thick line of webbing that was draped across the ground, hidden by the whiteness of the snow. As she did she shouted out as loudly as she could, "INCOMING! WILSON, PLUG YOUR EARS!"

She leaped over the rope as she flew into the clearing, hoping that Wilson would have something to shove into him ears so he wouldn't be deafened as well when the inevitable roar came. There were swathes of trap webbing all across the clearing before her in addition to the rope, but Webber had put gaps in it just for her. She hopped from snow patch to snow patch to get herself out of the way before the Deerclops came tumbling down upon the clearing.

She made it. Barely. As she reached the edge she looked back to see the Deerclops emerging from the forest, eye locked onto her. Then, the line went taut.

A cable of webbing six inches in diameter flew up from the ground to wrap around the monster's shins as the twenty-odd spiders in the trees to either side hoisted it up at Webber's commanding hiss, which she could barely catch in the upper range of her hearing.

Would it work?

The web stretched. The spiders squealed and several were torn from the trees, which themselves shuddered under the strain being placed on them. The Deerclops brought its other leg forward…

…and its eye went wide as it began to topple.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Its arms flew out and began pinwheeling. Its mouth dropped open and she felt a low moan pervade the air. Its legs stopped their momentous journey forward, but its head and torso did not.

It fell.

She was knocked from her feet by the force of the Deerclops hitting the ground.

Immediately Wilson flew out of the trees behind it and leapt onto its back. He moved with grace for a man tromping over the shuddering, round shoulders of a hairy white giant. He made it to the creature's neck without falling off. He lifted his spear and drove it with all of his might into the Deerclops' neck.

She had just grabbed two handfuls of spider web and shoved them into her ears in anticipation of the roar, and she was not disappointed. Even through the thick, gauzy substance the sound rattled her head and made her wince.

Blood welled up from the Deerclops' neck and began to seep downwards, the flow creating a crimson collar in its white coat. Wilson wrenched the spear out and readied for another blow, but was forced to bring the spear down obliquely to steady himself as the Deerclops attempted to throw him off. Its arms were pushing at the ground in an attempt to force itself to its feet, but its hands were getting stuck in the webbing and its movement was badly impaired.

She had no time to sit around and watch the rest of the fight. She pulled out her own spear and ran towards its left hand, jabbing at the stuck appendage. Its eye twisted around to look at her and its fingers twitched back before reaching forward in an attempt to grab her. She jumped back, careful to avoid the webbing.

At the same time it was trying to reach out and grab her it was also kicking furiously, trying to free itself. So far its attempts were fruitless, and it looked like it would stay grounded. Webber's friends were seeing to that. He had told them to swarm over the creature's legs and keep them tangled so she and Wilson wouldn't have to deal with sawing through the tendons. They had heeded his request, and at least a dozen black, hairy bodies were weaving webbing between the thin, spindly limbs more quickly than she would have thought possible.

The spiders knew what they were doing. Its legs were busy. If she could keep its hands busy without getting smacked, then Wilson would be fairly free to stab it to death.

Its eye rolled back in its head as Wilson stabbed at it again, and it tried reaching around to grab him, webs pulling up and being tightly stretched. That was her cue, and she hopped towards its eye in an attempt to distract it.

It worked. The eye rolled towards her at once, pupil contracting sharply, and quick as lightning the arm slammed down towards her.

She dodged, but only just, and she felt the rush of displaced air buffet her as she fell backwards. She landed squarely in the webbing and froze.

If she struggled too much she risked becoming completely entangled, but now the Deerclops was staring down at her in dull understanding as she tried to push herself to her feet.

She grabbed her spear and shoved it through to the ground, using it to force herself up, but she could already see it would be too late. Its arm was already twisting around to grab her.

"AAAAAAAAAI! _TSSSSSSSSSSSACH!_ BAD THING WILL NOT HURT OUR FRIEND!"

Webber flew out of the mass of spiders and leaped onto the Deerclops' arm, sinking his fangs into it. The Deerclops grimaced and wailed, desperately trying to dislodge Webber – not unlike the way she might try to dislodge a particularly creepy spider.

She tore free of the webbing just as the arm rushed towards her, and she jumped – not outside of its reach, but inside of its guard. She rolled over the sweeping limb at its base where the momentum was low, and now stood directly in front of the massive creature's eye.

It locked onto her and both hands reached inwards towards its face to brush her away, but the movement was too badly impaired by the webs at this point. That, and Webber's furious assault on its right arm.

She looked at it and felt a white-hot ball of rage well up in her chest. This _thing_ had deafened her, injured her, and exhausted her. This _thing_ wanted to tear apart everything they'd built. This _thing_ was created to rampage through the Constant, unchecked, through the power invested in it by Maxwell.

With a shriek of fury she hoisted her spear and jammed it into the Deerclop's eyelid, wedging it behind its eye.

Its mouth dropped open and the blast of thrumming air that burst from its mouth would have flung her back five feet had she not been holding onto the spear.

She began sawing furiously back and forth as she drew the spear around the rim of the eyeball. Blood began to leak from it as she completely severed the bottom lid, then the top lid. Then she tilted the spear at a downward angle and thrust, driving the spearhead behind its eye.

It was screaming constantly now, and sobbing as well unless she was mistaken. The spearhead had hit something back there, and she began sawing frantically once again. Webber had completely trapped one of its hands, but the other finally reached forward, wrapped around her waist, and tugged.

She barely moved, merely tightened her grip on the spear and kept sawing.

The hand tightened and pulled, but its fingers were surprisingly weak and its arm was still stuck; it couldn't fling her away.

With a roar she could not hear, she cut through the last strand of whatever was holding the Deerclop's eye in its head, and the eye grew still and glazed in its socket. Thick blood, thinned into a steady stream by the tears pouring from the creature's ducts, was gushing onto her feet. It steamed as it hit the snow, and the Deerclops finally readjusted its hand so its nails dug into her gut.

Her eyes widened. She gasped as the hard wedges of keratin curled inwards. She let go of the spear and scrabbled at the fingers, trying to push them away. "Webber," she choked as the bottom two nails pierced her skin—

Webber's hands, black and hairy, appeared out of nowhere, reaching around to grasp at the fingers and pry them off of her. They came away red, but she didn't think the damage was bad. She stumbled away from the still-grasping hands, grabbed her spear and yanked it from the eye socket, and heaved herself over the beast's right shoulder.

She didn't know how Wilson was doing since she couldn't hear anything. Intent on helping him she turned to Webber and said, "Keep its hands busy! I'm going to…" she grimaced at the pain in her gut. "…help Wilson!"

Webber's mouth hung open, unanswering, but that was just as well. She wouldn't have been able to hear him anyways. Earplugs or not, her hearing was shot.

She turned to its neck, grabbed two handfuls of soft white hair, and heaved herself up.

Wilson, it seemed, had fallen off at some point and made his way back up, because his hair was full of webs. His spear had broken on his last attack, the head sticking out of the thick, meaty neck. He now had a knife out and was stabbing frantically at the creature, sawing through its skin. The knife was small, though, and couldn't do much damage.

He looked up at her as she appeared, eyes wild and frantic, and said something. Without a word she handed him her spear, which he took with a triumphant expression. He stood up, steadied himself, took aim, and thrust.

He struck true. A hot spray of blood shot out in a stream so powerful it could only have been from the Deerclops' jugular. It coated Wilson and even sprinkled her a few feet away.

He wrenched the spear out and the spray continued, the pressure dropping as the wound widened.

The Deerclops reared its head as best it could and Wilson was thrown backwards, grabbing onto the cretin's shoulder hair to avoid being throw off entirely. Allena fell forward onto the neck, pulled her pocketknife out of her waistband, and started sawing at the edges of the wound Wilson had made.

The Deerclops was bucking frantically. The air was thrumming with its cries. She kept hacking and stabbing and the wound widened. Scalding red blood flowed over her hands and across its coat, drenching everything crimson.

Its struggles were fruitless. It could not throw her off. After a minute or two, the flow of blood began to lessen as its struggles began to falter.

She did not let up. She sawed completely through the jugular, and she waited for it to die.

After another minute of weakening efforts to dislodge its attackers, however, it became apparent that waiting wouldn't be an option. Wilson stood up and looked around, and his eyes widened. He shouted something at her.

She shook her head at him, still deaf, and he flung himself up the Deerclops' back towards her, tugging her to her feet and directing her attention to what concerned him.

She may have been willing to wait for the creature to die, but the spiders weren't. They were already swarming up the thing in a feeding frenzy, biting and tearing into the thin black limbs, and as she looked around she saw dozens more swarming out of the forest in an arachnidian flood.

She looked to Wilson, nodded, and he took her arm. Together they leapt from the Deerclops' shoulders and landed in the snow just past the webbing. She glanced back to see Webber calling after her, but there was no time to spare.

They ran. A few spiders came after them, but quickly gave up in favor of the steaming, writhing bounty behind them.

She was staggering and clutching her stomach. She didn't taste blood in her mouth so she suspected she wasn't badly injured, but it still hurt. Finally they reached a clearing and Wilson slowed to a stop. She dropped to her knees, panting.

She looked up to see Wilson saying something to her. Nothing. She reached up and tugged the spider webs out of her ears.

He did so too, she was happy to see, and she hoped his own hearing was okay. As for hers…

He spoke again, and she still heard nothing. His mouth moved, then stopped, and his eyebrows furrowed. She shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, Wilson, I can't hear anything. I'm sure it will wear off soon, but…"

His eyes widened and he looked worried. Then he looked down and his mouth moved in what she thought was possibly a yelp.

She looked down to see why, and winced. Her entire abdomen was covered in blood, and it wasn't all from the Deerclops.

Wilson brought her over to a fallen tree and had her lay against it, gesturing at her to wait. They'd left their backpacks a ways away from the conflict, and he went to get these. He brought them back quickly and began pulling medical supplies out of them.

He peeled back her ruined shirt to see that the wound was not very serious – it hadn't even gotten through to the abdominal wall. Lacking most of their medical supplies he simply applied spider salve and packed gauze onto it, wrapping it up as best he could. That would be fine until they got back to base.

With Wilson's help she got to her feet. He still had their last spear and he handed this to her to use as a walking stick. She braced herself for the walk back to base. It was getting on towards evening, they would need to make good time to get back before dark, and there was nothing left for them to do with the spiders finishing the Deerclops off.

As they took their first few steps towards home, however, Webber emerged from the forest. Wilson whipped around and stared at him, eyes narrowing with distrust.

He said something and Webber cocked his head before responding. They exchanged a few words and it seemed to her that their conversation was heated and tense – at least on Wilson's part. Wilson actually stepped forward aggressively, bringing a fist up, while Webber's legs began twitching agitatedly.

Allena, wanting to make sure everything was alright, said, "Thank you for your help, Webber. We couldn't have done it without you and your friends. We're okay now, though, right? You're not going to try to eat us?"

He looked at her and said something. She pointed to her ears and said, "I'm sorry, Webber, I can't hear you."

His mouth dropped open again, then suddenly there was a change in the air. Webber's eyes widened and his head-legs scrunched up. He cringed into a frightened stance, and his neck started twisting back and forth as he scanned the area.

Allena could feel something, too. The temperature had just dropped…and the air began to thrum with rage.

Suddenly, one of the shadows on the ground darkened. It expanded and slithered across the snow, pooling just in front of Webber. Webber saw it and took a step back, but it was too late.

A black hand shot out of the pool and wrapped around his throat. The shadows continued rising, and finally coalesced…into Maxwell.

It was Maxwell, but not Maxwell. The man that stood before them now was pale as death, taller than tall, with a rounded back, a craning neck, and black, clawing hands. The mantle of soft white fur that lined his winter coat had become long and matted, not unlike a wild winter beast's, and seemed to be a part of him rather than his now-tattered coat.

He was facing away from them, but his neck twisted around unnaturally to look at her. He said something, but she heard nothing. His eyes were pure white, empty and soulless.

She shuddered and took a step back. Wilson's arms wrapped around her and he stared at Maxwell with horrified revulsion. She'd seen this version of him once, when he'd sewn her soul back into her body during their subconscious meeting, but Wilson never had.

The demon narrowed his eyes at her and said something else. She replied, "M-m-my ears. I c-can't…"

She was nearly petrified. She'd never dreamed of meeting this demon in real life. Was this thing really _Maxwell?_

He paused. Then he hissed, and she heard it clearly – not in her ears, but in her mind. His mouth moved again.

 _Is_ _this better?_

She nodded, and Wilson looked at her, confused. She tapped her head to convey that she could her him in her head, and decided to just explain it later.

Maxwell turned back to Webber, who was choking and scratching at his hands. _You miserable little brat,_ Maxwell said. _Have you never heard the phrase, 'don't bite the hand that feeds you'?_

Webber's mouth dropped open and she could just barely hear the high pitch of a fearful squeal before Maxwell's grip tightened, cutting it off. _I gave you a home. A family. A place to stay. In this frightening little world of mine, I made you more frightening than most of my pets. And now, look at what you've done._

Webber tried to break free and failed. Maxwell shook him violently.

_LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!_

Webber's hand dropped from Maxwell's as his struggles weakened, and something cut through the haze of fear that the demon seemed to be emanating. She clenched her fists, pulled the spear out of the snow, and stalked towards the him.

_YOU DARE TO DEFY THE GREAT MAXWELL? YOU PATHETIC, WRETCHED—_

He cut off abruptly as Allena placed the tip of her spear against his back, just over his heart.

"Put. Him. Down."

She couldn't hear herself speak, but Maxwell could. Every muscle in his body tensed. He turned as solid as stone. Then his neck twisted again.

He looked down at her, sharp teeth glinting in the pale, winter light. _What?_

"I said," she repeated through gritted teeth. "Put. Him. Down!"

She jabbed him, hard, and his eye twitched. Webber's struggles were very weak now.

Maxwell sneered at her and spoke. _Do you really have any pity to spare for this broken thing? Go back to your nice comfortable 'home', my dear, and enjoy your respite. You'll get yours soon enough. If you will excuse me…_

He turned back to his victim. Webber twitched as Maxwell's grip tightened.

With a screech of fury she drew the spear back and plunged it with all her might into Maxwell's back.

His head dropped as he looked down as the spearhead sticking out of his chest. His turned back to look at her, expression comically shocked.

And he collapsed into shadow.

Webber fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, and Allena dropped to the ground beside him. She finally recognized what had cut through the fear. Protectiveness.

She placed a hand on Webber's back and he looked up at her. "Are you okay?" She asked.

His mouth moved again. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I still can't hear you. Don't worry, though. It's alright. He isn't going to hurt you. If he comes back you just tell him that if he has any qualms with you, he can take it up with me." She jutted a thumb into her own chest in emphasis.

His eyes were leaking a thick, clear tear-like pus, and as she patted him on the back he threw his head back and started sobbing.

She winced. Her lower range of hearing was shot, but the upper range could still pick up on his shrill, miserable wailing. Still, she kept patting him.

He flung his arms around her and lunged for her. Her heart skipped a beat, but as he buried his face in her chest in became apparent that he was seeking comfort, not food.

Though rather uncomfortable for her, she nonetheless stroked his head soothingly and began crooning at him. His extra legs came forward and wrapped around her face. She grimaced, but didn't push him away. The poor thing was terrified.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Wilson staring down at the sight with an expression of revulsion not dissimilar from the one he'd given Maxwell. She jerked her head slightly, glancing towards their backpacks. _Go away. I'll deal with this._

He looked rather pained, but he did as she conveyed, stepping back to wait with their things.

Webber was still sobbing, so she decided to change tact. She sang to him.

First she sang him There Was a Crooked Man, then then Hush Little Baby, and finally House on Pooh Corner.

As she finished this last he looked up at her, visibly calmed. He butted his forehead against her, still upset, but she gave him a firm pat on the back and said, "Wilson and I have to go now, Webber. We need to get back before dark. Besides, I'm hurt."

He jerked back and looked at her in dismay, but she smiled and waved him off. "Not badly hurt. I'll be alright, but we have to go. Okay?"

He didn't move for a long moment. Surely he wasn't about to try and eat her again, was he?

No. He stood up, helped her to her feet, and gave her a big hug. With his head-limbs, too. She hugged him back and turned to Wilson. "Shall we?"

He nodded, still looking disgusted with the scene, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Then she nodded to Webber and mimed a handshake.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, so she shot him a dire glare. Finally he relented, stepping forward and saying something to Webber before holding out his hand.

Webber looked at it for a moment, uncomprehending. Then his face split into a wide, fangy grin and he grabbed Wilson's hand and shook it with mad enthusiasm.

Allena laughed. Wilson allowed the handshake to go on for about ten seconds before pulling his hand away and shaking it off. Webber turned to scuttle away. No doubt he was going to enjoy the feast that his friends were already tucking into.

Wilson took her arm to steady her. She smiled up at him, he down at her, and they started for home.


	21. Loss

The next morning Allena woke up and her mood plummeted immediately.

Wilson had ended up having to construct a couple of torches on the run to get them home last night, and the last leg of the trip had been bad. The shadow's presence had been hounding them and Allena believed that, had their light got out, the fiend would have torn them both to bloody pieces in a millisecond. It had been bad enough to scare even Wilson.

Still, they'd made it. He'd had fixed up her wounds, they'd boiled a ton of hot water to wash the blood off of themselves, and after a meal of cold beefalo jerky they'd collapsed into bed.

She'd been almost totally deaf all that time and she'd hoped that a good night's sleep would restore her hearing. No-go, though. As she emerged from the tent she saw that the fire was going, but she couldn't hear the licking of the flames or the crackling of the wood. Nor could she hear the meat sizzling on the griddle.

Wilson looked up from the fire, expression hopeful, and said something. She shook her head heavily, pointing at her ears, and his face fell.

She sat down next to him and he looped an arm around her waist, leaning over to kiss her. She curled her head up under his chin and rested against him for a few minutes. Soon enough she felt a familiar nuzzling at her back.

She leaned back and smiled as Chester butted his way between them. She scratched him between the horns and even Wilson gave him a begrudging pat. Though he'd warmed up to Chester as a utility, he still had difficulty regarding their chest-monster as a friend.

Chester plopped down between them, tongue lolling lazily. Wilson got up and came back after a moment. He was holding a notepad and a pencil.

He scribbled out a note and held it out to her.

_Good morning, dearest. How are you feeling?_

She smiled at the familiarity and said, "I'm fine. Stomach is doing a lot better and nothing feels badly out of place. I really wish I could hear, though."

He grimaced and used the notepad again. _Don't worry. Drink lots of tea, get plenty of sleep, and give it time. If it does not wear off in a few days then I will figure something out._

He flipped a chunk of beefalo jerky he was warming in the pan and she said, "Alright, sounds good. How are you, by the way? You weren't hurt, right? I didn't really get the chance to ask last night."

He nodded, set his spatula down, then held up his arms in an impressive flex.

She laughed. "Okay, Hercules, I get it. Nothing can defeat the mighty Wilson."

He snatched the notepad back and scribbled something out, handing it to her.

_Nothing can defeat us._

She nodded and her heart skipped a beat as she thought back on the events of yesterday. They'd gone by so quickly she'd had trouble processing them. "Did we really do that? I mean, that thing…did we really kill it?"

He nodded gravely and wrote another note. _You were so brave. It's an honor to stand beside you, truly._

She blushed profusely upon reading this and shook her head. He raised an eyebrow and responded. _I would have run and hidden had it not been for you. That thing…just the sight of it chilled me to my very soul. It was winter's wrath incarnate, yet you were willing to stand against it. To stand up to Maxwell. Now we are safe, as is everyone else in the Constant, and we have your courage to thank for it._

Her throat felt tight, but she replied, "And your strength."

He smiled slightly, and she reached across Chester to brush a lock of hair behind his ear. "Really, Wilson, you were amazing. You're the one who struck the killing blow. Without you we could never have hoped to kill that thing."

He seemed happy with her praise as he picked up the spatula and flipped their breakfast onto the plates Maxwell had returned to them a few days prior. He jotted her one more note before tucking in. _That friend of yours – Webber – disturbs me. Still, I must give credit where credit is due. Without him, we would have been lost._

She nodded. "He saved my life. I'm glad he's okay. I guess we still ought to be careful, but it seems like we got through to him. Hopefully he won't try to eat us now."

Wilson nodded enthusiastically through a mouth of food.

* * *

The next three days went by without incident. Allena's stomach healed, Wilson sketched out a detailed blueprint of her flowhive and placed it with the backup prints of the gateway (he'd sketched those out a month ago and stored them away in his finest chest), and there was no hint of trouble.

At least until day four. They were sitting at the fire discussing her hearing. It had improved only very slightly. This gave Wilson hope that her eardrums were not completely ruptured, but he also believed that she would not recover fully without intervention.

He was in the middle of a note when his head jerked up. He set the notepad down – _Perhaps we could try applying spider salve to_ – and hopped up.

"What is it?" She asked. He didn't bother with the notepad this time, instead opting for a quick mime. He bared his teeth and threw back his head in an obvious howl.

Hounds. "Gotcha. Shall I set up the traps?"

He shook his head are wrote, _Armor first,_ before running to strap on his suit. She followed him.

One of the other things Wilson had done over the last few days was finish up her armor. She now pulled on her own log suit and saw why it had taken Wilson so long to make. It wasn't just log; it was studded in vital places with thin plates of gold, he'd reinforced the joints with fine, reinforced ropes, and he'd used multiple small plats of wood rather than a few large ones to minimize weight and increase flexibility. "Wow, Wilson," she said as he helped her pull it on. "This looks incredible. Thank you."

He smiled in response, but it was strained. He rushed off at once to ready the traps. Although the houndius shootius had worked wonders the last time it was becoming clear that it wouldn't hold up for much longer. The eye had gotten quite literally lazy, rolling up to the side and staring at nothing for increasing periods of time. It was often bloodshot. They certainly couldn't depend on it now, so it was vital for them to prepare adequately.

She followed suit. She was much more comfortable with the traps and could set them up almost as quickly as Wilson could now. Together they were able to finish everything up just as the hounds came in sight.

The snow was much thinner this time and the hounds were barely impeded by it at all. In spite of the greatly increased visibility the houndius shootius didn't spot them until they were less than ten feet away. Even then it wobbled drunkenly a bit, locking on to a target only with moderate difficulty.

It still fired effectively, however, and the first hound went down instantly with the shot. The remaining hounds branched out, six in all.

Allena pulled out her spear and waited. Two black hounds and one white one flung themselves forward while the remaining three looped around to come at them from the sides. The three who had opted for a full-frontal assault were hit by traps, and Allena flung her arm up and braced herself as two fire traps went off at once.

The houndius shootius eye rolled in its socket at the blast, and it seemed disoriented and bloodshot. Was it out of commission?

Not quite. It fired another stone bullet at a hound that had been thrown back by the fire trap but that was still very lively. It hit the hound's shoulder and the beast whipped its head around, spotted the turret, and jumped at it.

The eye oozed grossly as the hound's teeth sank into it. It fired frantically several times, punching a huge hole through the hound's chest, before it fell silent.

 _Well, that's over,_ she thought as the hound slumped to the ground beside the ruined turret. It had been great while it had lasted; now they were on their own.

Allena turned just in time to see a small black hound leaping at her. It and a buddy had darted around to come at them from the side, and only one of them had hit a snare. She hopped back and jabbed at the beast with her spear. It barked – at least, it looked like it did – and tried lunging for her a few times. She held it at bay with the spear. "Wilson, I can handle this one for a minute, take care of the others!"

The hound couldn't quite get at her through her spear, so she was safe enough for the moment. So long as another hound didn't come at her from the side she could hold this one off indefinitely.

She stepped forward and jabbed. It retreated a step, then lunged. She hopped back and it pressed forward, but got a couple inches of spear in its shoulder when it got too ambitious. She didn't have the strength to kill it, it didn't have the agility to get past her. Stalemate.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wilson taking on the last fully functional hound one-on-one. The others were dead or dying. Wilson's beast was fairly large and couldn't land a bite on him but he was also having trouble with it due to its sheer size. He couldn't quite manage a killing blow.

She turned back to her own opponent as it tried a new move, ducking under her spear, and she jammed the tip into the back of its neck. Her damaged ears picked up a very high-pitched yelping as she hit something vital, then—

BAM!

She was on her side in the snow looking down the gullet of the massive hound Wilson had been fighting. It must have darted away from him and leapt at her when it had heard the smaller one.

It lunged, and she brought her arm up to keep it off her face. Its jaws clamped down, hard…but the armor held.

Still, it felt like her arm might break from the immense pressure of the hound's jaws. She let go of her spear and punched the hound in the face out of panic, then jammed a thumb into its eye and pressed.

It let go with a thrumming snarl she could just barely sense. Then its undamaged eye widened. It went stiff, and all at once fell to the side.

Wilson had rammed his spear under its ribcage and pierced its heart from behind. He pulled the spear out and stabbed it again, teeth bared in a snarl not like a hound's. The smaller hound had gotten up and jumped at him, but with utter disdain he kicked it away without a glance. It fell into the snow. Wilson stabbed the large, obviously dead one several more times before turning around and dispatching the smaller one.

Man. He really hated things that attacked her.

She sat up. Wilson whipped around. His face was pale, his eyes were wild and wide, and he ran behind her at once.

He started tugging her shoulders. The hound had collapsed on her and it took all his might to drag her out from under it, but as soon as she was free she stood up. His mouth was moving at a million miles a second and he was gesturing towards the medical station.

She held up her arm. "It's alright," she said calmingly. "Your armor worked wonders. See?"

She showed him where the hound had bitten down. There were indentations in the metal, it was covered in hot, slimy drool, and there was a small smear of blood where one or two fangs had found chinks in the armor, but altogether she was pretty much uninjured.

He still ushered her inside and undid her armor so he could examine the arm, and then the rest of her, top to bottom. She let him; it didn't bother her, and he was too worried to let it rest. Gradually he calmed down, and when he finally stepped back she said, "See? One hundred percent fine. Okay, ninety-nine percent," she said with a gesture to the minor wounds on her forearm. "The armor worked perfectly. Thank you."

At last his shoulders untensed and he smiled sheepishly. Then he grabbed their skinning knives and other tools and handed a few to her. She nodded understanding and they got to work.

* * *

That night, after the hounds had been processed, they sat by the fire. Wilson yawned and picked up his writing pad. _Excellent work today. I saw you fighting that hound. You were good!_

She shrugged. "I can keep a hound busy. You're the gladiator."

She saw him laugh and he wrote down, _A gladiator! I must admit, I never expected such a title would be attributed to me. What a strange world we live in._

"Yup," she said. "Hey, sorry about your houndius shootius. It was really great while it lasted; too bad it gave out."

He shrugged. _Honestly, it worked out better than I'd hoped. I expect that it would take far better materials to make a long-lasting mechanism._

She brought her arm up to scratch her ear, but forced in back down with a grimace. The inside of her ears was itching and burning terribly since Wilson had put salve in them, but she needed to leave them alone and let the salve do its job. Hopefully her hearing would be better in the morning.

Wilson bit his lip, took the pad and wrote, _I'm sorry. I know it's uncomfortable. Will you be able to make it through the night? I can mix up a mild sedative with the sleep-dart poison._

She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll make do. Besides, it's important that we're able to be up and alert at a moment's notice, I know."

He nodded, though he still looked concerned.

Chester was curled up next to Wilson ignoring her. He didn't understand the concept of deafness, and because of that he was mightily upset with her. Earlier when she'd been treating the pelts she'd turned around an hour into her work to Wilson tapping her on the shoulder and pointing at Chester. Chester had been sitting a few feet behind her, barking for almost an hour trying to get her attention while Wilson had been out collecting materials for more fang traps. She'd accidentally left his eyebone on the kitchen table by the fire, out of his reach, and the wind had changed direction, wafting smoke into it and irritating it. She'd apologized profusely to her chest-dog and rinsed his eyebone off, but it was still a bit red.

She went over and tried to pet him, but he got up and went to sit down on Wilson's other side. "Ugh. I feel really bad about that. What do you think I can do to make it up to him?"

_If he were a dog I'd say give him some jerky treats, but he doesn't seem to eat. Or drink. Or poo. Or need anything at all, really. He's the perfect pet!_

She sighed. "Yeah. Unless your goal is to try and take care of him. How do you pamper a pet that doesn't need anything?"

Wilson tapped his chin with his feathered pencil, then his expression lit up. _Why don't you make him a pet bed out of one of the extra pelts?_

Now, there was an idea! She had no idea if he would actually use it, but it would at least let him know she cared. "Yeah, okay! I'll do that tomorrow."

Wilson smiled, clearly glad that he could be of help.

They went to bed a while later. The next morning she picked out a pelt – she chose the one from the massive hound since it was extra thick and fluffy – and started drawing up a design for a pet bed.

After breakfast Wilson let her know that he was going out to get some more supplies, but not ten minutes later he came rushing back into camp looking terribly excited.

She looked up as he ran over to his notepad. "What?" she asked. "What is it?"

He jotted down a quick scribble and held it out to her. _Koalefant tracks!_

She looked at the word for a long moment. She didn't recognize it and she wasn't sure if she was reading it correctly. "Um…koala…fant…tracks?"

He nodded excitedly and took the notepad back. _Have I never mentioned koalefants? They're massive, meaty creatures that pass through only rarely! Their trunks are highly useful and they provide enough meat to last us all week! At least! We can fill up our stores in one hunting trip!_

Her eyebrows shot up. "Is it nearby?"

He nodded again. _I think so. The tracks don't look too old. Get your armor on and let's go!_

This seemed sudden, but his enthusiasm bordered on impatience, and he didn't seem worried about the animal, so she did as he said. He moved like he was preparing for a hound attack, suiting up and grabbing his spear, a few hunting knives, and his sharp golden axe. She too suited up and slung a backpack on her shoulders. Wilson's suit prevented him from carrying a backpack, but he'd specifically made hers so she could wear both at once. "Okay, are we ready?"

He stowed a couple of traps in her pack and grabbed the notepad. _These things are big. Very dangerous. Do NOT get hit by them! And leave the face-stabbing to me. When we find it I'll have you loop around and drive it towards me. If you can just keep it from running, and maybe jab it in the back legs a few times to help lame it, that will be excellent!_

She was badly wishing she could hear. A simple game plan before the hunt was fine, but if something changed it would mean a pretty hefty delay. "Okay. Sounds good."

He winked at her and started out the door, but paused before exiting and fetched Chester's eyebone. Chester had been sleeping, but now looked up and, with what she assumed was an excited bark, took off after Wilson as he headed out the door. She followed him and soon they were on their way.

She could tell how important this was to him by the way he moved. This wasn't a casual hike to the beefalo fields; he was jogging from the get-go and she had to work to keep up.

They reached the tracks quickly. The creature had left massive prints in the snow, and Allena could tell from the foot size that this would indeed be formidable prey. The print was the size of an extra-large dinner plate, maybe a foot in diameter, and as inexpert as she was at tracking even she could tell at a glance that the thing was heavy by the deep indentations.

Wilson grinned at her expression as she examined the prints. She swallowed. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

He laughed and nodded. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the prints. They were heading south, through the swamp and towards the forest.

They took off following the prints. Once they got into the tree line it became harder due to the near lack of snow. Wilson, however, kept moving with total confidence even in places Allena could see no tracks. From time to time he paused to look closely at the trunk of a tree or a patch of pine needles, and he would point these things out to her, but without him being able to explain them she was mostly at a loss. It was like he was following a clearly paved road, but all she could see was bark and dead leaves.

He jogged lightly through the forest looking totally at home. Chester hopped cheerfully after him. She lumbered along after them both, probably making enough noise to startle a herd of beefalo. She hoped this thing didn't have big ears.

It only took about ten minutes to find the koalefant.

It was lumbering through the forest ahead of them, its massive behind swaying back and forth serenely as it trekked past pines and bushes. As Allena watched, it stopped, wrapped its trunk around a berry-less shrub, and tugged it out of the ground. It brought it to its face and started munching.

Wilson looked back, gestured to her to start looping around, and drew his spear. He set Chester's eyebone down and took a few steps forward.

She started moving, but she didn't make it five steps before the koalefant heard them. It turned about with surprising speed for something so huge…and Allena had to hold back a great big, _'Awwwwwwww!'_

It had huge, floppy ears and short, stubby little legs. It was puffy and round, pale grey-blue, and it had wide white eyes. It also had tusks and horns, but they were itty-bitty tiny little things, totally useless for self-defense. Altogether it was the cutest thing she'd seen in the Constant so far.

That being said, it also looked very, very tasty.

She winced and cursed Maxwell for bringing her to a world where she had to kill this thing when all she wanted to do was bring it big armfuls of grass and feed it and pet its big, pretty trunk, and—

A brown mass the size of a Hummer shot silently out of the trees before them and barreled into the koalefant, throwing it to the ground before it even had the chance to react.

Every hair on her body went on end instantly, and her breath left her in a silent flood of horror.

It was the Varg.

The colossal monstrosity began savagely tearing into the koalefant's neck, and she saw its trunk rise up pitifully. It must have been crying out, though she couldn't hear it. Wilson ran over to her, holding Chester's eyebone and pointing back to camp.

The message was obvious. _Retreat!_

She agreed and turned to go, but even as she did she looked up to see the Varg staring at her.

It looked barely interested in them and went back to tearing apart the koalefant. They might be able to get back to base and set up some decent defenses if it was going to focus on its prey, and if they hurried…

The Varg froze in its movements. She saw its lips curl up, and she assumed it must have begun snarling. She shivered as a cool breeze swept over her and she began moving backwards. What had changed? Why had it…

The breeze.

The last time she'd seen the Varg it had caught her scent. Now the breeze was carrying that exact same scent straight to the beast, and it very clearly recognized it. Its nostrils were flaring, its chest was heaving, and it looked like it was becoming very, very excited.

It cocked its ear as if listening to a distant voice, then it threw back its head and howled. It lifted its foot from the fallen beast and stepped towards her.

The koalefant was still alive. With the weight of the Varg removed from its shoulder, it heaved and threw its trunk against the Varg's head in a last desperate bid for life.

The Varg stumbled, then threw itself back onto the koalefant and began furiously worrying at its trunk.

She ran.

She and Wilson sprinted for their base, but Wilson's head twitched back not a minute into their sprint. He glanced at her, shook his head, and slowed to a stop while pulling out his spear. The message was clear.

_We aren't going to make it. We need to fight._

She felt the blood drain from her face. She nodded and pulled out her spear, then flung her pack down. It would only weigh on her.

Then she remembered – the traps. They'd brought two fang traps with them. It would only take her a moment to set them up. "Wilson, keep its attention for a second while I set up these traps, okay?"

He nodded and stepped forward.

The Varg was advancing on them. Its eyes were as red as the blood that stained its muzzle; its jaws were far too large for the rest of its body; its legs, shoulders and haunches were covered in muscles that rippled and bulged disgustingly; its pelt seemed to be swarming with insects, fleas and flies and worms and grubs snaking in and out of the matted fibers of hair, almost as though it was decomposing: nature's living incarnation of death.

With a shudder of revulsion she started on the traps.

They could kill it. They had to. Sure, maybe its hide looked as thick as the Deerclops' and maybe it was four times the size of a normal hound and maybe its jaws were full of fangs the size of hunting knives and twice as sharp and—

Her fingers were trembling and she forced them to stay still. She needed to set the trap. Even if there was no way they could hope to kill the monster before them, she needed to set the trap.

Wilson's spear looked like a child's toy before the Varg, and it looked down at him almost disdainfully before lunging forward.

Wilson jabbed the spear at the Varg's face, but it didn't seem to have much effect unless the tip got close to its eyes. Only then would the Varg back up. Otherwise it seemed content to just jam its face forward and skewer itself on the spear. Wilson kept having to yank it back to avoid it snapping, and it was obvious that the spear would break before he managed to land a serious blow.

Damnit. Damnit. There had to be a way to kill this thing. If they couldn't do it themselves, there had to be something else nearby that would help.

But no. There were no spiders nearby; the tallfort was too far away and the birds likely wouldn't stand a chance anyways; there wasn't a cliff they could lure it off of; the ocean was too far away. Hell, if the Deerclops had still been alive they would have taken their chances luring it into that. It would take a giant to…to…

A giant.

Or a whole forest of them.

She managed to set both traps and looked up just in time to see the Varg thrust its head forward furiously, butting into Wilson and sending him sprawling on his back.

The Varg walked up to him calmly, opening its jaws as it did so.

"No!" She cried, hoping to draw its attention. "No! Leave him alone! Stop! Leave—"

Its ear twitched, but otherwise it ignored her. It put its foot down on Wilson's ankle as he tried frantically to back away and she saw his mouth open in what she suspected was a howl of pain as the bone broke.

Then Chester appeared. Wilson had tossed his eyebone to the side, but their chest-hound had picked it up carefully in his mouth so he could move freely, and now he bounded towards the Varg just before it set upon Wilson and rammed into the side of its head.

Well, 'rammed' was a strong word. He bounced into the Varg with enough force to knock over a very small child. Maybe.

The Varg stopped. It looked down at the furious chest-monster for a moment, then stepped off Wilson's leg.

Allena watched with horror as the Varg tore Chester apart.

It gripped his top in its mouth and began furiously thrashing its head back and forth until he was nothing but a vague orange-brown blur flying through the air. Then it twisted its head sharply and threw their tattered friend into the ground.

She felt nausea well up in her at the sight of his little red legs still twitching, and a moment later she became glad, for the first time, that she was deaf. The Varg gripped Chester in its teeth, set a paw inside Chester's belly, and ripped him in half.

She didn't want to imagine the sound that must have made, but she couldn't help it. A small cry escaped her, but she cut it off immediately. She closed her eyes and forced herself to her feet.

She didn't have time to mourn. If she did, Wilson would be next.

Even as she thought this, the Varg tossed what was left of their friend to the side and turned back to Wilson, who had rolled over and forced himself to his hands and knees. He was trying to get up, but couldn't quite manage it.

She clenched her fists, lifted her spear, and looked at the Varg through her tears. Then, with all the force and authority she could muster, she bellowed, _"Leave him alone!"_ This time it wasn't a shrill petition, but an order.

The Varg turned from Wilson to look at her. Its eyes bulged, its jaw dropped open, and she could almost hear the statement that expression conveyed.

_You want my attention? Fine!_

_You have it._

It threw its head back in a howl and began pacing rapidly towards her.

She saw Wilson turn around and his expression became nearly agonized. _No!_ He mouthed.

She looked away from him. She couldn't afford to focus on anything but the Varg.

It stepped towards her with the quick, calm trot of a dog approaching its food bowl at dinner time. Its eyes were locked on her and it didn't even see the traps until it sprung them.

She'd stepped back behind them and as the Varg's paw came down a shower of sharp white fangs flew up. Most of them went straight into its paw, which was exactly what she'd been hoping for.

The Varg let out a startled, high-pitched _Yipe!_ that even she could hear. It staggered, and when it tried to put its paw down it whined just slightly. Then its red eyes came up to meet hers and its whine deepened back out of her range of hearing.

She could actually see its throat vibrating with the force of the growl. It stepped towards her, but it now had a heavy limp. Perfect.

It triggered her second trap a moment later. This one did not hit its other paw but instead flew up and peppered its chest with fangs. The beast was startled and jumped, and she took that opportunity to start running.

She sprinted for a few seconds, but she didn't want to risk leaving it behind to go for Wilson, so she looked back.

It was about four feet behind her and gaining.

She turned back and put on speed. Even with a limp that thing was fast.

She ran. She ran faster than she'd ever run in her life. She ran like she was running from the shadow, the Deerclops, and Maxwell all at the same time.

She didn't run aimlessly, though. Her destination was clear in her mind, and she dully registered that she seemed to gain a natural sense of direction only when her life was at stake, as though adrenaline were the secret on-switch to her internal GPS.

She didn't look back, and she only knew that it had caught up with her when she felt its hot breath on the back of her neck. She juked sharply to the right and was thrown to the ground as the Varg's snout clipped her going past.

She ducked and rolled, coming up running. The Varg, however, had attempted to go into the same turn she had and had merely ended up bashing into a small tree with enough force to partially rip its roots out of the frozen earth, leaving it at a tilt.

That was exactly what she was hoping for. Now she just needed to lead it to the right tree.

She kept going, picking up her speed again, and it caught up to her once more. This time she didn't let it get so close before leaping out of its way, and it flew past her again without throwing her down this time.

She was almost there. Unless her GPS was malfunctioning. Then she was almost dead.

No. She saw it. The sign.

LIVING FOREST. DO NOT LOG.

Teeth bared in a grimace, she ran towards the grove.

The Varg had picked up its own speed. It was gaining on her. It seemed as though its paw wasn't bothering it much anymore. It got closer. Closer. Once again, she could feel its breath on her neck.

She'd picked out the largest tree in the grove and was sprinting straight for it full tilt. Then, three feet away from it, she threw herself to the side.

The Varg twisted its head after her and caught her hair. She screeched as it clamped down…and the chunk of hair was yanked straight out of her scalp.

She could feel it when the Varg's body hit the tree. It shook pine needles from every tree in the grove, and the massive trunk it had barreled into let out a high-pitched creak.

She staggered back and prayed. She wasn't actually sure that that particular tree was one of the ones she was looking for. If it wasn't, she was dead. She couldn't put on enough speed to run, loop around, and draw it into bashing another tree.

For a moment her stomach dropped as the tree sat there silently. Then...

The tree's trunk split. Arms appeared, legs extended, and darkness seemed to burst from the foliage as an enraged face appeared amongst the needles.

The Varg's ears went back. Its neck cricked up as the Treeguard's mighty hand came down and grabbed it by the scruff.

The Treeguard lifted the Varg ten feet off the ground and brought it up to face level. It dangled from the arboreal giant's hand like a puppy from the mouth of its mother.

The Varg was whining confusion and Allena let out a low, morbid laugh as she saw a stream of liquid cascading down. The thing had pissed itself in fear.

The Treeguard examined it closely for a moment. Then:

_RAUUUUUUUURGH!_

The air vibrated with the force of its bellow. The Varg yelped. The Treeguard's grip tightened and the beast writhed in pain for a moment before it was flung bodily across the grove into another tree.

The Varg fell to the ground and the tree it had been thrown into came to life. The Varg scrambled to its feet and looked up just in time to see the Treeguard's massive foot drawing back to kick it. The Varg yelped and tried to run, but it was too slow. The Treeguard kicked, sending the beast flying into another tree.

At this point every Treeguard in the grove was coming to life. Not sure how they would react to her, Allena scanned the snow-dusted ground for pinecones. She saw one and dove for it.

The Treeguards were groaning fit to crack the heavens, and the Varg was now yelping and dashing around dodging the giant monsters that had literally appeared out of nowhere. They weren't intent on letting the beast go, though, and one by one they kicked, stamped, and clawed it to death.

The Varg was paying her no mind now, and she stumbled back to watch the show. In mere moments the Varg was reduced to…

Well, the treeguards did to it what it had done to Chester.

She expected to feel some sort of satisfaction as she watched it die, but all she felt was misery. Her dog was dead.

Tears blurred her eyes and a loud hiccup escaped her chest. One of the treeguards heard her and turned around as the others were stamping the Varg into paste.

She held up the pinecone and dropped to her knees. The earth was hard, but she started scraping it back anyways.

The Treeguard didn't attack. It just watched her curiously until she managed to dig a shallow scrape of earth back and drop the pinecone into the hole. Her fingers were bleeding slightly, but she covered the hole with dirt.

The Treeguard looked happy enough, and it turned back to the red stain on the ground that used to be the Varg but was now only fertilizer.

She wondered if Maxwell would be as distraught over the loss of his pet as she was over hers.

She doubted it.

* * *

A few minutes later she was nearing the clearing where she'd left Wilson, and she saw that he was staggering painfully through the snow, using the spear she'd thrown down as a walking stick as he made his way frantically towards her.

He seemed to gasp upon seeing her, and as soon as she was close he flung his arms around her and gripped her tightly.

She patted him on the back and said, "It's okay, it's dead, we're fine. The Treeguards killed it, it's dead."

He pulled back and gazed down at her tiredly, then nodded in acceptance.

She looked him over and asked, "Are you okay?"

He grimaced and pointed at his ankle. She could see it swelling already.

She nodded, but her throat was tightening up at the prospect of what she had to deal with next. "Okay, we'll get back to camp in just a minute, but…"

She swallowed and stepped carefully around him. She headed for Chester.

There he was. Half-lodged in the snow, form distorted beyond recognition, his orange fur was rustling in the wind. The stubby red legs had curled in on themselves and she could just see his tongue hanging listlessly out of the remains of his mouth.

The sight hit her like a blow to the gut and she wheezed. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and after taking in the sight before her for several long moments she took a deep breath and began sobbing.

She'd cried several times since coming here. She'd fought against tears and occasionally failed, she'd gotten the misery-sniffles from time to time. But sobbing? She hadn't sobbed since…

She didn't want to think about that. She braced her hands against the ground and hung her head and let loose. All the frustration, all the fear, all the pain and anger were washed away in a flood of grief.

When had this happened? When had she become this attached to the sentient little chest who had nuzzled up to her on solitary afternoons, curled up beside her and Wilson by the fire in the evenings, gone into a joyful frenzy every time she'd come home after a long day—

Her sobs redoubled, and soon she felt Wilson's hand on her back.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and saw him leaning over her, still supported by the spear. She knew they needed to get home, she needed to treat his injuries the way he'd always treated hers, but…

"Ch…Ch…Chester," she gasped.

Wilson looked down at the torn bundle of fur with a wounded look in his eyes. Then he shook his head and tugged gently on her shirt. She stood and he wrapper her in a firm hug. She sobbed into his chest.

When he let her go she turned back to their lost pet, but he took her head in his free hand and had her face him again. His expression was sad, but firm. They needed to go.

She sniffed and nodded. "O-okay. Okay. L-let's g-g-go."

He nodded and held something out to her. She looked down to see Chester's eyebone. It was fully red, the lids closed.

She took it, hands trembling, and placed in carefully in her waistband where it normally went.

They made their way back to camp.


	22. The Expedition

A week later, the snow had begun to melt.

Wilson's ankle had indeed been badly broken by the Varg, but under his direction Allena had set it well and now it was nearly healed. She'd been regularly binding it with salve and honey poultice casts. She wasn't sure how that was supposed to help given that there wasn't anything to disinfect, but Wilson had assured her it would, so she did it. Sure enough, the swelling had gone down quickly and within five days of regular application he'd regained most of his mobility.

She'd gone into overdrive all week taking care of the base so he would be able to rest. She'd hauled enough lumber to the base to keep it lit for a week, she'd taken care of all of the rabbit trapping and resource-checking, she'd fetched them fresh water every day, sanitized it, tended to Wilson's ankle, cooked their food, kept the camp tidy—

She was exhausted. But now spring was right around the corner.

She could actually feel the world coming back to life. Her hearing was still shot – she was gradually getting used to the idea that her deafness may be permanent – but aside from that, things were getting better.

She'd kept Chester's eyebone, unwilling to part with it. It sat beside her sleeping bag, one of her most prized possessions. She missed Chester badly, and had cried over him several times that week, normally at night and once during the day when she'd accidentally flipped open her notebook to the pet bed design she'd been drawing up when they'd left on the hunt.

That had taken her by surprise. When there were only two living creatures in the world that loved you, losing one of them was like having your heart ripped in half.

But she still had Wilson.

Physically and emotionally frayed, she wasn't sure how she'd have gotten through that week without him. He'd been extremely attentive to her, holding her close in the mornings and evenings and stroking her hair until she fell asleep each night. This never took long, since she was always tired to her bones from the day's labors.

She could tell that he was getting very agitated by his injured state, and he often apologized – via the notepad, of course – for not being able to do more to help. He was forever offering to get back to work, assuring her that his ankle was practically healed already, but she knew he was lying and she'd nearly had to force him to sit still and let his leg rest up. He'd done so, but only grudgingly.

Now his ankle actually _was_ practically healed, and spring was in the air.

The other thing they'd done over the last week of winter was try every healing trick Wilson knew on her ears, to no avail. Nothing helped, not even a bit. She couldn't hear anything lower pitched than nails on a chalkboard.

Wilson was sitting at his worktable, which was scattered with complex wooden parts. Unable to do much manual labor he'd dedicated himself to mental pursuits and had made impressive headway on the flowhive. Most of the small parts were done. Once he had the combs and the paneling carved out they could work on construction, and with her toolkit Wilson assured her it would be about the most impressive thing he'd ever made in terms of complexity and utility, aside from his science machines. She was excited.

It was early morning and she was up cooking breakfast. Wilson came out of the tent, ankle still in its cast, using a walking stick that was _actually_ a walking stick and not a spear pressed into emergency service. His limp was gone by then, but she'd insisted he use it until he was one-hundred percent certain he was better, and then one day extra.

He sat down beside her and picked up the notepad. _Good morning, dearest. My ankle is feeling fine. No more pain at all. Perhaps I can do away with the cane and help with the chores today?_

She picked up the pan she was cooking with and heaved. The tallbird egg she'd been frying flew up into a perfect flip and landed facedown in the pan. A bit of yolk leaked out from under the white, so not a perfect egg, but close. He applauded, and she smiled at him. "You're sure it's healed? Completely?"

He nodded enthusiastically and held it out, flexing his ankle and wiggling it in a way that he would definitely not have been able to do had there been any pain.

"Alright, I'll take the last wrap off after breakfast. It'll be great to have you back on your feet."

He grinned and threw his arms up in an exaggerated cheer.

She was feeling surprisingly good this morning. The shadows had been crowding in a bit since Chester's death, but that morning they were only vague blurs on the edge of her vision. "Say, could you grab a couple of bowls?"

He nodded, hopped up, and sauntered over to the dish shelf.

Well, winter was over and they still had three weeks of food supplies, two tallbird eggs, and a jar of honey. Not too shabby.

She dished them up some breakfast. She finished hers quickly and set the bowl aside, staring into the flames and contemplating. She'd been doing a lot of that lately, mostly over what it was going to be like to spend the rest of her life deaf. Would they want to make up some sign language for her, or would they just put all of their extra energy into trying to get home? Once she was home she may be able to get a hearing aid…

Wilson nudged her and she looked up. "Sorry, what?"

He handed her the notepad. _I'm feeling cooped up again. I want to go out._

She chuckled morbidly. "Remember what happened the last time you said that?"

He rolled his eyes and snatched back the notepad. _Maxwell CANNOT have another Deerclops up his sleeve. That just wouldn't be fair. We'll be fine._

She agreed. She'd gotten the distinct feeling that it had really exhausted Maxwell, making that monster. She suspected he may try it again eventually, but it would take him some time. "So, what do you want to do? Go visit Webber, maybe? Go see the pigs?"

He shrugged and wrote down, _If you'd like to. Though if I may be so bold as to suggest, I usually take a small expedition in the early spring._

Her eyes lit up. "An expedition?" He'd told her about his previous expeditions, and the stories he'd had to tell had thrilled her. She missed them sorely. The thought of a story of her own, though, even if she had no one to tell it to…

Then her heart dropped. "That sounds like a great idea. But…"

She pointed to her ears.

Wilson raised an eyebrow and spun his feather pencil around. _I think you've proven yourself capable of functioning without hearing. The hounds, the Varg, this entire last week, etc._

She shook her head. "I mean, it would probably be easier for you to go without me—"

He snatched the notepad away and started writing furiously. _And leave you to the mercy of hounds, of nature, of Maxwell? I am your ears now, my dear. It has been painful enough to watch you go out and gather supplies without me. No. We both stay, or we both go. Which do you prefer?_

She sighed. "Staying is safer. You know that. If we can hunker down and work on that gateway, that would be our best shot at survival. But…I really would love to get out and see the world a bit more," she said wistfully.

Wilson wrote, _Life is about more than survival, my dear. There are many beauties to see, many dangers to face, many boons and advantages lying in wait. And as the saying goes – nothing ventured, nothing gained._

"One may also say, 'nothing ventured, nothing lost'."

Wilson's face wrinkled up in distaste, and she laughed. "Okay, expedition it is. But only a short one, okay?"

He nodded enthusiastically, hopped up, and ran to his table.

* * *

As she learned over the next two days, expeditions were not something Wilson left to chance. He pinned up a list of everything they needed to do to prepare. This included food storage, medical supply storage, backpack organization, water storage, route planning, tool packing, what-to-do-if-this-happens discussions…

A major goal was leaving plenty of room in the backpacks for anything useful they may find on the road. Evidently Wilson had found numerous useful things while running around exploring in the past, and had occasionally had to leave them behind for lack of space in his bags.

The day they were ready to leave they began packing up their sleeping supplies. The snow had almost completely melted by then, but it was still chilly. As they were packing up, she voiced a suggestion she'd been weighing for a while. "Say, Wilson, I was wondering…"

He turned to face her, expression questioning. She continued, "Do we need our sleeping bags? I know you want to do everything we can to cut down on space, so I was wondering if it wouldn't be more efficient to just bring blankets and a tarp."

He brought his hands up to his shoulders and bared his teeth in a chattering grimace. The message was, of course, _too cold._

She nodded. "Yeah, I know, but if we just brought the extra-large tarp and blankets, we could…um…" She started fiddling with the strap on the waist pack Wilson had made her. "…we could probably keep each other warm. You know. Sleep together. Share body heat. To cut down on weight."

She felt her face warming up. She thought that, given that they shared a tent, the concept of sharing body heat wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

Wilson blinked. Then his head tilted as he pondered the logistics. Then is eyebrows rose as he apparently came to the conclusion that the logistics were solid. She'd gotten pretty good at reading his expressions.

Finally he smiled, nodded, and went to fetch everything they'd need for the setup.

They'd gotten up extra early that morning so they could have the maximum amount of daylight to travel by. The days had gradually been getting longer so they would now have a fair bit of daylight before they would need to hunker down and wait for the shadow to pass.

They started hiking just before dawn broke. They'd decided that they would head in the direction Allena had explored, drop by Webber's home to check in on him, then go and see the bee-field before moving on to the ruined tallfort and beyond.

They made it to the beefalo field and Allena, as before, brought a large tuft of grass for her friend. They'd gotten a bit low by then, but Wilson said it would be growing again fairly soon so they could spare it. They found the herd on the far end of the field a short ways out of their way, but upon seeing her the herd leader came lumbering up.

She gave him the grass and patted him on the head. "Hey, buddy, good to see you."

He replied with a low bellow, one that she could feel rather than hear. Apparently it was good to see her, too.

A while later they reached the spider stronghold and Wilson passed her the notepad. _Why don't you go see him? I'll wait here. Give him my regards._

She nodded, but before she could move Wilson's head snapped around and he stared into the trees. Had he heard something?

The bushes started rustling in front of them. Her eyes widened, she stepped back and grabber her spear-shaft…

And released it with a grin as a familiar black head popped into view. "Webber!" She cried happily.

Their spidery friend stared at them openmouthed for a long moment before his mouth turned up into a smile and he said something. She winced and said, "Sorry, Webber, I still can't hear. Wilson can write down anything you'd like to say to me, though."

Wilson said something to him and she suspected it was something along the lines of 'keep it short'. Webber cocked his head and pondered. Then he said something, and Wilson wrote it down. _Webber is happy to see Allena and friend. Why can Allena not hear?_

"I'm happy to see you too, Webber. I can't hear because of our fight with the Deerclops. It roared so loudly it broke my ears. Hey, Maxwell hasn't been giving you any more trouble, has he?"

Webber shook his head, then shuddered. He looked at Wilson and said something. Wilson wrote it down. _No, but now the darkness is mean to Webber. Others are okay in it, but not Webber, not anymore. Now it hurts us, and Webber can only hunt during the day. No more night-walks._

Wow. Webber used to be okay in the darkness…but now he wasn't? Was Maxwell in charge of the monster in the shadows, and had he turned that monster on Webber because he'd helped them kill the Deerclops? "I'm sorry, Webber. I guess it's because you helped us. Are you okay?"

Webber nodded, smiling, and gave her two thumbs up. Wilson said something to him and he shook his head violently, saying something else, and this sentiment was lengthy. Wilson condensed it, writing out, _He says that the Deerclops kept them fed for weeks, and now that winter is almost over there's enough food all around. The spider part of him isn't clamouring for him to eat us, and he says he wouldn't even if it was._

"You spell 'clamoring' with a 'u'."

He frowned and wrote down, _Yes, I spell it the proper way, thank you very much._

She laughed. Then she stepped forward and wrapped Webber in a hug.

His arms, all six of them, wrapped around her as he returned the hug. She stepped back and said, "Webber, would you like to walk with us for a while? We're going to the bee fields."

He clapped his hands and nodded. Soon the three of them were off.

She saw him and Wilson get into a conversation along the way. It even looked fairly friendly, and Wilson got a curious look about him as he chatted. She loved that look. One eyebrow up, eyes bright, head tilted forward – it was a very attractive look on him.

They reached the bee-field. Spread out before them was a huge green strip, patched with snow, covered in flowers and beehives. Most were yellow, but a few were…not. They were red, they looked oddly ornate, and they were shaped differently – taller and somewhat hexagonal.

Webber stopped at the edge of the field. He held up his hands in a 'wait here' gesture and ran off. A moment later he came back with a large, branching stick from a sapling.

He reached around and Allena saw that he had a large, dense mass of web on his back not unlike a backpack. He pulled some off carefully and with artistic delicacy proceeded to string the web between the sticks in a tight, intricate pattern.

Then he stepped forward and pointed to the field with a grin. He ran out, walked up to a yellow beehive…and kicked it.

Allena jumped back and Wilson grabbed her arm as though getting ready to drag her away if the bees came after them. The bees swarmed out of the hive and Webber jumped back, then began swinging his bug catcher and soon he had a whole swarm of both worker and killer bees in his net. Once it was full he ran away. He managed not to get stung once.

He was kind enough not to come back to them, instead disappearing into the forest off to the south and looping back around after a minute or two. The bees gave up and left him alone, so when he came back up to them the only bees left were those in his personal web.

She looked at the mass of angry bees gingerly. Webber held it up, plucked a red one off – carefully minding its vengeful rear end – and held it out to her.

She took a step back and said, "Ugh…no, thank you, Webber."

He shrugged, held it out to Wilson who presumably gave a similar response, then popped the bee into his mouth, biting it off at the stinger.

She blanched as she watched him crunch it up with obvious relish. He plucked off a yellow one and offered it to them. "Nope," she shook her head.

He grinned and popped it in his mouth. More for him, she supposed. They continued walking.

The forest was full of fallen trees from the Deerclop's rampage, and this made it a bit difficult for them to travel through some areas where the pines had fallen across their path. Still, they kept walking.

Webber followed them for a good long while, happily munching on bees. Wilson checked for directions a few times, and Allena pointed out the direction of both the walrus camp and the tallfort. She cocked her head as he changed direction abruptly, heading towards the walrus camp.

Given that they had been living in an igloo and had obviously been cold-weather creatures, she assumed that they would probably have packed up and left – assuming they'd survived the Deerclops attack, that is.

She was surprised to see she was wrong.

They reached the edge of the birch forest and Allena could see that the constant spray of the icy ocean water had kept much of the field frozen and snowy. The walruses had survived the Deerclops attack and rebuilt their igloo.

They were out in front of it and appeared to be working on a boat. On the boat were two crates for their remaining hounds and what looked like several fairly deep boxes, presumably for all the meat they had gathered, which still lay in the salt-ice snowbank.

Wilson saw them and his eyes became slightly glazed. Allena shivered. "Uh, Wilson?" she said quietly. "What are you…"

He held up a hand for silence, stepped back into the grove well out of sight of the walrus camp, and turned to Webber to say something.

Webber had just finished the last of his bees. He replied to Wilson, the two talked for a minute, then Webber nodded. He walked over to Allena and gave her a big hug, which she returned.

He turned to go, and Wilson nodded deeply in farewell. Webber actually bowed at the waist with a wide, happy smile, a clear exaggeration of good etiquette, and left. Wilson, evidently, had not wanted him around for…whatever was about to happen.

Wilson pulled out his notepad and wrote, _I believe I told you that if I ever saw those cretins I would kill them._

She winced. "I know, Wilson, but we really don't need to…I mean, look, they're leaving, and…"

Wilson took the pad and started writing again. _And if they come back next year?_

"We'll be gone next year."

_We don't know that. And what about the other people of the Constant?_

She sighed. "Well, what do you want to do? They still have their hounds, and their blowguns are dangerous. It would be a shame to cut our expedition short because we got shot. Or, you know…died."

Wilson smiled, a hint of wickedness in the expression. _Don't worry. I think I'll be able to manage._

And with that he started writing out their plan.

* * *

Allena had finally relented, agreeing that the things were menaces and would be a threat to anyone they came across. She and Wilson may or may not still be around next winter, but someone definitely would be.

Besides, their darts had really hurt.

They'd taken about half an hour to prepare. Wilson had made them travel armor that winter in preparation for an expedition. It was lighter and less effective than the heavy stuff at home, but also easy to pack up and take with them. She'd gotten into this and draped a blanket over herself as a traveling cloak to hide it.

She glanced back at Wilson, who gave her a thumbs up before darting away to take his own position.

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the field.

The walruses still had a chance to get out of this. Wilson had agreed that if they left her alone, he would leave them in peace. She doubted that would happen, though.

She hobbled out just past the birch trees, trying to look hungry and injured. She saw a hound lying around by the igloo lift its head and bark.

The young walrus looked up, saw her…

And his mouth dropped open in what Allena guessed was a cry of rage. Yup. They were still pissed.

Honestly, that ate at her a bit. She'd only done what she could to defend herself after _they'd_ attacked her, and it was only thanks to their wonton aggression and recklessness that they'd lost two of their hounds. Yet they still seemed to consider _her_ the bad guy. Talk about victim blaming.

The older one sat up from his work and looked to where the younger one was pointing, narrowing his eyes upon seeing her. He stood up, walked over to stand beside walrus-the-younger, and considered her.

He barked something and the hound got up and came to stand beside them, staring at her with hungry white eyes. Another one emerged from behind the igloo. Looked like they'd found a replacement.

The younger one was stamping his foot and seemed to be petitioning the older for something, but the older one wasn't listening. He was rubbing one of his tusks thoughtfully.

She hoped he was considering a non-violent course of action. She raised a hand and waved hopefully. When she didn't get a response she tried something she hadn't yet – talking to them. She called out, "Hello! I don't suppose we could make a truce, could we? Just call this whole thing off? I'm sorry about your hounds, I just didn't want to be eaten, so…"

She shrugged helplessly and the younger one's mouth dropped open in what she suspected was another cry of anger, but the older one held up a flipper hand as though to say, 'wait'.

He waited. He fumed. Finally, the older one raised a flipper to the sky and barked something. The hounds sat up, attentive.

Allena's stomach dropped. "No," she called out again. "Don't!" She waved a hand back and forth in warning.

It looked at her for a moment longer, then flung its arm straight forward.

The hounds took off. They were both barreling straight for her.

She grimaced, turned, and falsely hobbled into the tree line.

As soon as she was out of sight she ran in further, flung her blanket back, pulled out her spear and waited for the hounds. They both appeared at the same time, and as the first one leaped for her a dart flew out of the trees and lodged firmly in its shoulder.

It staggered as it hit the ground and Allena hopped back, jabbing her spear out to repel the second one. A dart flew out and hit that one, too.

Wilson fell out of the tree and went to work on them, cutting one down with savage efficiency. The darts were sedatives, and though it would have taken two or three to knock the hounds out completely, one each had been enough to slow their movements.

The first exploded in a burst of frost. Wilson stepped back several paces. He'd learned the hard way that killing two white hounds in a row would just about freeze him solid and definitely give him a bad cold. That was why he'd agreed to letting Allena kill the second one.

Normally it would have been beyond her, but this one was badly handicapped. She waited for Wilson to get out of range and approached it cautiously, spear held out. It staggered around her in a circle, clearly struggling to stay on its feet. It snapped drunkenly at her and she took the opportunity to ram the spear into its mouth. She forced the spearhead down its gullet, dropping to her knee to get a better angle and driving forward until blood began to spurt the hound's mouth in a hot, red spray.

She stumbled back as the chill exploded outward. _Brrr._

Now for the walruses.

Wilson nodded at her and she pulled out her own blowgun. Wilson had made two new ones after the last hound attack, one for each of them, and they were very high quality. She'd practiced shooting with plain darts, but Wilson had provided her half a dozen fire, sleep, and poison darts for the trip.

She loaded a sleep dart in. If possible she'd like to sedate the walruses before killing them. Fire and poison were horrible ways to die.

Wilson stayed back as she emerged into the field again, seemingly alone. Her spear was in one hand, covered in blood. Her blowgun was hidden beneath her blanket cloak.

The walruses had made their way about halfway across the field by then, presumably to check out what was happening to their hounds, and now they froze. The older one gritted its teeth upon seeing her bloody spear, and the younger one wailed so loudly that she could just hear it in her upper range of hearing. They both pulled out their blowguns and took a step towards her.

Then Wilson emerged, stepping out next to her and wrapping an arm protectively around her waist.

She looked up at him and shivered lightly. His eyes were hard, gazing out on the walruses with cold, calculative indifference.

They both froze, and at once the older one's eyes widened as it realized its mistake.

Their prey was accompanied by a predator.

It took a step back and began dragging the younger one back as well. Wilson strode forward, loading a sleep dart.

Allena swallowed and advanced, wanting to end this quickly. The older one put up a fin as though trying to ward them off…

Then the younger one broke free and charged them with a roar of fury unheard. By her, at least.

Wilson and the walrus lifted their blowguns at the same time, and the older walrus' eyes widened when it saw that they weren't the only ones armed with such weapons. It shouted something to its charge, but it was too late.

Darts flew, passing each other in midair. One hit. The other did not.

Wilson had whirled to the side as the dart had flown at him, majestic as a ballroom dancer, but the younger walrus had no such grace or speed. The dart stuck in its thick neck and it swayed on the spot, stepping backwards in alarm.

Allena brought the gun to her lips and blew, hitting the creature in its belly. It didn't need to be conscious any longer than was necessary.

It toppled backwards and as it did the older one, rather than turning to flee, leaped forward to protect it.

Its mouth dropped open in what was no doubt an enraged roar, but for all the reaction Wilson gave he may as well have been deaf, too. He loaded another dart in and fired at the older walrus.

It stuck in its neck, but this thing was twice the size of the younger one. It would take three or four darts to get him down. It lifted its own gun, barely perturbed by the dart, and blew – not at Wilson, but at her.

She was ready and jerked to the side. The dart didn't miss entirely, but it did lodge in a wooden plate of her shoulder armor.

She stuffed another dart into the blowgun. She and Wilson both hit on their next attacks.

The walrus was now swaying heavily on the spot and when it shot at them again it missed by several inches, and they hadn't even had to dodge. Wilson drew his spear as he got in striking distance and knocked the blowgun from the walrus' hand.

It sat down heavily beside its sleeping charge and looked up at them, dazed and tired. Wilson glared down at it, eyes flickering with rage.

He lifted his spear and his arms shook slightly. She remembered the way he had reacted when she'd been bitten by the ice hound a month ago, and by the black hound in the last attack, and for a moment was afraid that the walrus was about to die a very bad death.

Instead, Wilson's eye twitched. He relaxed his shoulders, let the spearhead drop to the side – then brought it up and across in a powerful slash.

Blood exploded out of the walrus' throat as Wilson's blow severed both jugulars. It dropped to the ground in an instant and did not move again.

He did the same with the younger one, striking before it could wake, and in a burst of red the last winter threats were gone.

He looked down at them with a slight frown, then reached down and plucked the tam o'shanter off the older one's head, offering it to her.

She took it and looked at it sadly. They had seemed like such nice creatures. She wished they could have been friends. Still, the Constant was better off without them. She would have died without Wilson. If those things had ever come across another survivor…

She shook her head. That said, she did put the hat on. It was warm and nice.

Wilson knelt beside the two bodies and began searching them for goods. He pulled out a dozen more poison darts between them and looked over a few of their tools – crude knives and such – before deciding that the darts were the only thing of value. Though Allena could have sworn she saw him slip the older one's monocle into his pocket covertly.

He pulled out the notepad. _Would you go check the igloo? I have one more thing to do._

She nodded and went to the icy home, pulling open the door and ducking inside.

She let out a low whistle. Although most of the igloo was taken up by thick, high-quality pelts for sleeping – they would probably leave these as they stank mightily of fish – there was also what appeared to be a large box of un-poisoned darts, two jars of what Allena strongly suspected were poison, and a big, lovely leather bag full of…

She flipped the flap up and licked her lips. Going by the looks of it, two weeks of jerky rations.

She took the bag, the box, and the jars, loading them all securely into her pack and emerging. Next she inspected the boat-to-be. It was impressive, the sort with stabilizing fins on either side, and the crates were very nicely made. Strong enough to contain hounds.

All along the ice-bank were thick slabs of tallbird and beefalo meat.

Wow. That would be enough to get her and Wilson through half of winter all over again. She hoped that it would stay fresh in the ice until they could get back and take it all home.

She grabbed one choice cut for their dinner that night, wrapped it in some spare grass she found beside the igloo, and returned to Wilson.

He was just finishing something, and as she approached he looked back at her and gestured for her to get away. His hand was red, and she thought back to what he'd actually said when she'd come home from her own first, disastrous expedition wounded and weak.

_I'll make a walking cane out of their tusks if I ever catch sight of them…_

She swallowed and took a few steps back, then retreated to the edge of the field.

A short while later Wilson finished his work, went to a large snow patch and used it to wash his hands and his trophy. He stowed it away and returned to her, pulling out his notepad as he did. _Did you find anything useful?_

Opting to ignore the fact that he had just hacked a tusk off of a formerly sentient walrus, she replied, "Yeah, a whole box of extra darts, two jars of poison, and about two weeks of jerky rations." She opened the bag and showed him these. "Plus a ton of meat in the snowbank. It will probably stay good until we get back, but if you'd like we can carry it all back and set out again in a couple of days."

He shook his head. _No, we'll come back for it. So, where to next?_

She pointed in the direction of the tallfort. He nodded sharply. Then he frowned and stepped towards her, jotting down a quick note. _Are you alright? That did not…bother you too much, no?_

She bit her lip. Then she said, "I guess it kind of does, but those things were menaces. We gave them every chance, and they just…" she sighed. "I just wish they could have been nice."

Wilson gave her a sad, lopsided smile. _Few things in the Constant are 'nice', I'm afraid. Maxwell delights in such cruelties as those,_ he wrote.

She nodded.

They set off for the tallfort.

* * *

They'd passed the fort a while back, checking the wreckage left behind by the Deerclops for anything usable and finding nothing. That said, there were a few gold veins that Wilson vowed to take advantage of some other time. Not today, though. Gold was heavy. They kept moving.

They hiked all day, swerving back and forth in their path to get a good, broad view of the area they were in rather than just a straight line into the unknown. They stopped periodically so Wilson could fill out his travel map. They scouted out a small marsh and Wilson pointed out some tentacle lumps to her; they passed through three different grassy fields, one of which was occupied by beefalo; they passed a couple of rocky plains that were void of tallbirds but also of gold; they spent about four hours hiking across a vast plain that Wilson told her would likely be a hot, miserable desert come summer; and finally came to a dense forest of giant, bare trees covered entirely in thick, horrible-looking thorns.

She grimaced at the sight of these. This was not the sort of forest she would like to live beside.

She looked at Wilson to see him giving the forest a distasteful look as well. He saw her looking and pulled out the notepad. _Shall we travel along the outer edge until we find something more…inviting?_

"Oh, yeah," she replied enthusiastically.

They walked outside the tree line for nearly a mile before coming to something. It looked like a narrow path had been chopped through the forest, a line of tree stumps marking the way.

They looked at this curiously, then at each other. Another survivor?

Allena shrugged. Wilson shrugged back. They took the path.

Evening reached them, it began to get fairly cold, and Allena was glad of her new tam o'shanter. She hoped that the path would widen out or the woods would end, because she did not like the idea of sleeping in this spiny, creepy forest. Much to her surprise, her hopes came true…to an even greater degree than she was expecting.

A small branching path caught Wilson's eye and he pointed it out. There were sawn off thorns on a few of the trees, implying that someone wanted better access without completely giving away that the path was there. The main path continued forward, wide and inviting, but the small path went off to the right.

Wilson raised an eyebrow at her as though to say, _Shall we?_

She nodded, but pulled out her spear just in case. This whole place was freaking her out.

Wilson concurred, pulling out his spear and readying his blowgun.

They started down the new path and Wilson kept them to it, his observational skills guiding them quickly and safely through the twisting, hidden way. After just ten minutes or so, they discovered the gold at the end of this malicious rainbow.

Allena's jaw dropped as she saw what was, without doubt, a base.

It was surrounded by walls, though these were obviously made out of thorn-tree wood rather than stone. It had a heavy wooden gate with a thick plank brace between the two doors; something a human could move, but that a hound couldn't.

She looked at Wilson and asked, voice low, "It doesn't look like anyone's home. Should we announce ourselves?"

Wilson looked a bit worried, but nodded. He drove his spear into the ground beside him, a non-threatening position, and called something out. There was no response.

He tried again, but nothing happened. Then he walked up to the door and began hammering on it with his fist and calling out.

They waited for another minute or two, then Allena asked, "Should we just go in and see if it's deserted?"

Wilson frowned but nodded, gesturing for her to stay back. He closely inspected the doors, then lifted the wooden plank out, setting it on the ground. He took his spear and used it to poke the door open.

It swung open with little difficulty and the two of them stepped carefully inside.

It didn't look like anyone had lived there in a long while. Everything was dusty. There was a firepit, but a quick check told them it was cold all the way through the ashes. There were two lean-tos, a bigger one and a smaller one, and the smaller one contained an old, musty sleeping bag. The larger one was empty.

Come to think of it, there were several hints of a large person and a small person having shared the camp. There were large dishes and small dishes, a large wash basin and a small wash basin, a large chair and a small chair by the fire…

"Hey," Allena said. "They made chairs. Why don't we have chairs? Why do we still have logs?"

Wilson looked surprised at the question, then his brow furrowed. Maybe he was thinking, _Hey, why_ do _we still have logs?_

She saw that there was still a pile of wood and kindling beside the firepit and said, "Um. Do you want to spend the night here? It doesn't look like anyone's coming home."

Wilson considered, then nodded. He went back to the door to examine it and saw that there was a notch for the plank inside the base, too. He fetched it in and sealed the door from the inside. Then he set about unpacking.

They decided on the large lean-to for a sleeping place, laying out their tarp and blankets in preparation for bed. Wilson was about to pull out some jerky for dinner, but Allena shook her head and pulled out the large, fresh cut she'd taken from the walruses. His face lit up and he looked quite pleased.

They started up a fire and Allena cooked the meat while Wilson filled out the map. He showed it to her when he was done and she said, "Man, you're good at that. I can actually understand what I'm looking at. That's really impressive, you know?"

He waved her off airily, but as per usual was clearly appreciative of her praise.

She finished up their dinner, divvied it up, and they ate. By that time it was well past dark.

Wilson looked around the camp for extra kindling and sticks for a torch. He liked to keep the supplies for one handy when he slept out in the open, just in case something happened. While he whipped them up an emergency torch and stocked up the fire, Allena made sure everything was ready to go for the next day.

Everything was prepared to be packed back up, they could make use of the walrus jerky so they wouldn't have to dig out their own, and they had no injuries or minor issues to take care of before bed. Finally it was time to sleep.

Wilson came over, kicked his shoes off, and crawled under the blankets. He got comfortable then turned to her.

She was feeling a bit nervous, but her exhaustion was calling to her more than her nerves so she followed suit. She crawled under the blankets, unsure of how Wilson wanted to sleep. It became apparent, however, when he urged her to roll over so she was facing away from him, then scooched up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her in so they were spooning.

Oh. That was warm. And cozy. And nice.

Though she'd been nervous about sharing sleeping space with Wilson she relaxed into his embrace immediately, sighing in contentment as she rested her head on his outstretched arm. She felt his grip tighten slightly on her, and felt a slight puff of breath on the side of her face.

She turned her head and he looked at her, eyes tired but twinkling. He started speaking.

She watched him, confused. He knew she couldn't hear. If he wanted to let her know something, why wasn't he writing it down? He'd kept the notepad in reach.

He spoke for another minute or so, then leaned forward and kissed her.

Now that was something she could understand. She returned the kiss, nuzzled his nose and said, "Goodnight, Wilson. I had a good day. Let's hope tomorrow goes well, too, yeah?"

He nodded with a wide smile and laid his head down, closing his eyes.

She followed suit, savoring the warmth of his form against hers, wondering what he'd been saying. Clearly something he didn't feel comfortable expressing to her, but that he wanted to get out regardless.

Though they may have been sleeping in a strange base, in the middle of a forest of thorns, miles from home on a trip into the unknown, she had no complaints. She was warm, she was well-fed, and she was safe.

Wherever Wilson was, she was safe.


	23. Clockwork Brawl

They woke up a couple of times in the night to restock the fire, and by the time it was getting low again dawn was just about to break.

Wilson woke with a wide yawn, looking around blearily. The last time he'd laid down after stocking the fire she'd just curled up in the crook of his arm resting her head on his chest, and now he looked down at her in mild confusion. Then his eyes brightened, and he smiled. _Good morning,_ he mouthed.

"Good m-m-morning," she yawned in reply. She didn't want to get up. She was instilled with a warm drowsiness, lying there in Wilson's arms, and the world outside seemed cold and unpleasant.

Wilson gently tried to move out from under her, but she draped her arm across his chest and groaned, "Just a few more minutes…"

She felt the light puff of a chuckle on her cheek and slumped back down onto his chest. She could almost hear his heart beating in his chest, and she wanted to enjoy it for a while more.

But no. If there was one thing Wilson took seriously it was expeditions – and science – and expeditions included getting up on time. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her onto her back so he was on top of her, leaned down, nuzzled her nose, and sat back after a quick peck on the lips.

 _Up!_ He mouthed insistently.

She groaned again and sat up into his chest, hugging him tightly before shoving him off in irritation and standing up. He was already on the move packing up their things, and Allena followed suit. She folded up their blankets, then their tarp, tied them up, and secured them to the back of Wilson's backpack. He carried all the heavy stuff out, though she would be the one to carry any extra stuff they found back.

As she readied for the day the sun broke over the distant, thorn-covered horizon, and the light put her in an oddly bubbly mood. She started singing.

"Little darling, it's been a long, cold, lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here…here comes the sun, do-do-do-do…here comes the sun, and I say…"

She carried the melody on as she packed, switching to Fly Me to the Moon when she ran out of words to the last one, then to The Rising of the Moon as she prepared them some breakfast. She turned to hand Wilson his to see him leaning against the wall, eyes closed, expression peaceful.

That was a very unusual expression for him, and she tilted her head in confusion at it. When she stopped singing, Wilson opened his eyes and saw her staring at him, came over and took the jerky-breakfast, stuck it in his mouth and jotted her a note on the notepad. _I almost never hear you sing. I wish you would more often. It's beautiful, and you know so many strange and lovely songs._

That's right; he'd mentioned enjoying listening to her on Christmas. She shoved her mild embarrassment away. "I'm glad you like them. I guess I can sing more often," she said sheepishly.

She'd had no problem singing in front of people when she was young, but as she'd grown older she'd also grown more self-conscious and less self-assured. But as Wilson nodded enthusiastically, she silently vowed to make an effort to get over her informal stage-fright.

Soon they'd finished their breakfast and were ready to go. Before they left Allena took the notepad and wrote down a quick note, weighing it down with a rock and leaving it under the large lean-to where it wouldn't get rained on. It read,

_Hello! We found your base while we were traveling and stayed the night under your lean-to. It doesn't look like anyone has been here in a while, but in case you come back we just thought we'd let you know that we appreciated having a safe place to stay overnight. Hope life in the Constant is treating you alright. We know it's rough, but hang in there. We'll get home eventually._

_Sorry about taking your lumber!_

_Sincerely,_   
_Wilson and Allena_

Wilson rolled his eyes at the note and wrote her one in response. _I sincerely doubt that note will ever be read. At least, not by the original inhabitants of the base. You are likely the most polite person I have ever come across._

She winked. "Manners maketh man."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and they set off once again.

They finished their trek through the woods, continuing until they reached the end. Before them was a wavy landscape, mostly obscured by hills. To the left, yellow grasslands. To the right, green pastures. These were split evenly down the middle in front of them.

Wilson considered, then wrote down, _Which way shall we go, my dear?_

She shrugged. "No clue. What do you want to do?"

He scanned the hills in front of them, but they were both too steep to see over. He got a cautious look in his eye, then wrote down hesitantly, _Perhaps we could split up. Just for a few minutes. You take a look at the savannah, I'll look at the pasture, and we'll meet back here in ten minutes to confer?_

She raised an eyebrow, surprised. Wilson had been strongly averse to leaving her alone for long ever since she'd gone deaf. Was this his way of letting her know that he trusted her to take care of herself? At least for a short while?

He was watching her closely to gauge her response. She nodded and said, "Alright, sounds like a plan. See you soon."

He nodded, and she practically watched him quash his worry as he turned to leave.

She made for the dry, grassy hill – the snow had melted almost entirely by then, and she guessed it would be gone by the afternoon – and as she crested it she looked over to see Wilson take one last look back at her. She smiled and pulled out her spear to let him know she was prepared to defend herself, and he looked relieved. They turned away from each other and went exploring.

The hill she was on was only a small one, and she saw another rising before her with a huge, rocky outcropping at the top. She decided to make her way up this and see if there was a decent view before her or just more grass. It would take maybe five minutes to climb to the top of the rocks, so that ought to give her just enough time to get a good view and get back to Wilson before he started worrying about her.

She slipped a bit going down the slick, grassy slope, then she slipped a fair bit more going up the next one. She had to grasp at the long, flat grass to avoid a fall back down, but she made her way to the rocks pretty quickly.

They were odd rocks, strangely jagged and filled with deep cracks. She imagined there might be something dangerous in the cracks, so she pulled out her flashlight and shone a light into them to be sure she wasn't about to get bitten by some Maxwellian nightmare-snake.

Nothing in the first few cracks she saw, but when she shone her light in a particularly large one she saw a glint of red. A gem?

She peered closer and nodded to herself. Definitely a gem. Wilson wouldn't pull out his pick for gold, but a precious jewel might be different. She'd let him know. Pleased to have already made a useful discovery, she hoisted herself up and set to climbing the small crag.

She scaled the rock, an easy feat given that it was so jagged and lumpy. Tons of handholds. It was about ten feet tall and steeply sloped, so she had to be careful going up it. Finally she reached the top, pulled herself up…

And gasped.

Below her was a continuation of flat grassland for miles, but just at the bottom of the hill there was one massive exception.

A huge, flat, rectangular expanse of grey slate was at the bottom of the hill. It was lined with statues. Some were horse-like, many were headless cupids, and at each corner was a statue of a tall man reaching triumphantly towards the sky. The slate wasn't natural stone like you saw in a tallfort, but was instead polished smooth and carved with beautiful, intricate swirling patterns.

There were paths leading from the edges to the middle, and these were constructed of black and white marble in a checkered pattern, not unlike a chessboard. At the center…

Her heart skipped a beat. What she'd taken for another statue turned, hopped to the side, and revealed what was unmistakably another human form crouched in the middle of the floor – a lone pawn abandoned on the board, pinned by…uh…

Well, pinned by a knight.

A tall robotic creature shaped like a chessboard knight – that is to say, a horse – was hopping around the person, a young man by the look, who was obviously its prisoner. The knight was plated in some sort of metal, maybe copper, and had lots of moving parts ticking and tocking like the pieces of an old, glass-plated grandfather clock. Its prisoner sat cross legged on the ground with his head in his hands as his clockwork warden steamed and bounced heavily around him.

She took the scene in for a long moment before climbing back down and sprinting down the hill towards Wilson.

She got back just as he was coming back down his own hill looking cheerful. His expression dropped to confusion as he saw her gesturing wildly to come over. He did so, jogging quickly up to her, and at once she said, "Wilson, there's someone over there. A person, a real person. He's trapped by some sort of mechanical monster. We have to help him."

Wilson took the news with initial shock, then stoic attention. He nodded when she finished and gestured for her to lead him on.

She took him to the top of the hill, not bothering with the outcropping this time, and Wilson's jaw dropped as he looked at the odd setup. Then his expression twisted up into furious indignation and he stomped him foot and pointed at one of the tall statues.

Allena frowned and peered at it more closely, then saw what Wilson was flipping out about.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. She hadn't noticed at first, but they were all statues of Maxwell. "He looks stupid," she said flatly.

Wilson still crossed his arms and glared at them, then shook his pique off and ducked behind the hill against to put on his armor. She followed suit. When they were suited up he pulled out the notepad and wrote down, _Okay, monsters like that can have surprising attacks. We'll approach it slowly to make sure it doesn't have any ranged attacks, then close in moderately to gauge its attack range, and only once we understand its offensive capabilities will we begin the assault. Its middle looks sensitive; let's go for that. And any chinks in the metal plating, of course. Just be careful not to let it break your spear!_

She read all of this then nodded. "We need to focus on getting that guy out safely. If it looks like we can't kill the thing, maybe you could distract it while I slip around to free him?"

Wilson nodded and took the pad again. _I'll give you a signal if it looks like we can't manage the creature. Maybe like this?_

And he made an oblique slashing gesture with his right hand.

She nodded. "Sounds good. Shall we?"

Wilson nodded. They went out to face the clockwork knight.

When they neared the edge of the board it spotted them and stopped. Then it hopped out in front of its prisoner and stared at them.

Allena glanced at Wilson. He bared his teeth in a grimace and took a step forward.

The instant his foot touched the slate flooring the knight stomped a hoof, scraped the other one on the ground behind it like a bull getting ready to charge, dropped its jaw and let out a high, whistling bellow that she could just barely hear. It wasn't unlike a train whistle.

The prisoner's head jerked up. His eyes widened as he saw them, and Allena slapped a hand to her mouth in comical surprise.

He was a mime. He had short messy black hair and his face was covered in thick white face paint – except for his cheeks, which were painted bright red. His lips were painted black. His outfit consisted of black pants, a horizontally striped red and black shirt, and white gloves.

His jaw dropped when he saw them, then he tried to hop up…but flopped back to the ground and rubbed his back, pained. Allena saw with indignation that whoever had left him there had actually fastened black chains to his wrists and ankles, and these were just a bit too short to allow him to stand.

She gritted her teeth angrily as she caught the sight of one of the laughing, triumphant Maxwells that lined the board. What the hell was wrong with him?

The knight whistled again and began hopping towards them.

Well, it looked like it didn't have any ranged attacks. She took a few steps back and let Wilson handle the first interaction. He let it get within five feet of him and took on a dodging stance. This was a good call, because the knight took one more hop, bent over, propelled its body forward like an accordion. The thing was about seven feet tall, and bent at the waist its reach extended it outward for a four-foot strike range.

She wanted to strike at it while it was doubled over, but she waited. Wilson had said wait to see its capabilities before attacking, so she would at least wait for it to finish its attack to make sure it didn't have any surprises up its sleeve.

It didn't seem to. It straightened up again, hopped at Wilson once more, and repeated the attack.

Well, this thing didn't seem too bad. It was facing partially away from her, so she darted forward and slashed at its waist before leaping back and getting ready to dodge.

It stopped, turned, and hopped towards her for a similar attack. The creature didn't have much in its repertoire.

She dodged it easily, and Wilson struck at it from behind. It straightened up, turned, and bellowed its whistley bellow at him.

Allena grinned. This would be cake.

They took turns striking at it while its back was turned, and soon they had completely severed the middle, accordion-like segment, which seemed to have been constructed of thick, light-brown leather. Inside was a complex mechanism of whirring cogs and pistons.

As it leaned over and butted at Wilson again she saw a gap in the machinery open up. There was some sort of pulsing, leather sack in the middle. A fuel sack, probably, but it looked to her like an artery. One that was throbbing with whatever vital fluid kept this thing alive.

"Keep its attention for another hit, Wilson!"

He probably agreed, and the clockwork knight stood back up, bent over for another attack, and once again exposed the sack.

Allena lunged forward and jabbed it. A spout of steaming black liquid – oil, probably – shot out in a high-powered jet and nearly hit her. She ducked out of the way as the knight whistle-screeched in pain.

She took a few steps back, but it was clearly dying. She grinned and turned to look at the object of their rescue attempt—

He was gesturing frantically, a horrified look on his face. He was trying to mime something to them, but his movements were badly restricted.

She stepped back a bit more as the knight tried to turn around to get at her. She was watching the mime, struggling to understand.

He was pointing rhythmically at different things in front of him, then flattening his hands out and lifting them, miming something rising. Then he tried throwing his hands above his head in a clawing, scary gesture and baring his teeth. Then he pointed at the knight, drew his thumb across his throat, and repeated the series of gestures.

Okay, he was obviously miming a monster. Something rising. The knight dying. And pointing at something in front of him, maybe something repeated…

Oh. The chessboard.

Her heart skipped a beat as she was hit with realization. She called out to Wilson as the knight fell, voice tight with panic, "Wilson, I think the mime is trying to tell us that when the knight dies, something scary come out of the floor."

The mime nodded.

The knight went still.

Then the floor started moving.

The square she was standing on started to rise and split, and with a yelp she jumped out of the way. All around her squares were being displaced, including one right behind Wilson.

"Behind you!" She called out as she spun around, trying to count how many new opponents they had to face. One, two, three…four…five…

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad.

All around her, other statues, these shaped vaguely like bishops but with lightbulbs as the tops of their spires, were popping out of the board. The stone knight statues on the edges of the board amongst the cupids and Maxwells cracked, and flung off their stone coatings to reveal bronze or copper beneath. And in the middle of the board, right in front of the mime…

It looked like a giant clockwork rhinoceros with only two back legs, and it was almost as large as the Varg. It had a massive, turreted spire for a horn, almost like a—

Oh. A rook.

Bishops and rooks and knights.

"Oh my," she said in dull, fearful exasperation.

They were faced with nearly twenty enemies. Everything locked eyes on her and Wilson. As much as she hated the idea of leaving their new friend behind, it was clearly time to retreat.

But that didn't seem to be an option. As she and Wilson flew towards the outer edges the knights hopped back and forth aggressively, blocking them. Allena heard a high-pitched humming sound behind her, like something powering up. She turned – and leaped to the side as a bolt of what looked like frigging _lightning_ shot at her from the head of one of the bishops.

"Wilson!" She shouted. "The lightbulb ones can shoot!"

Then there was a thundering steamwhistle and the ground shook. The clockwork rook-rhino was stamping its feet and staring…at her.

Crap.

It flung itself forward with mind-boggling speed, and she cried out and threw herself out of the way just in time to avoid being trampled. Its back leg came down an inch shy of hers as it passed, and Allena knew that if it had hit it would have crushed the limb flat, severing it at the knee. She'd have bled to death in moments.

She scrambled to her feet but flew to the ground again as two more bolts of lightning shot at her from different directions. It was all she could do not to die.

Then she looked up and saw something that gave her an idea. The rook had blown by her, but in its blind momentum it had clipped one of the knights and sent it sprawling. It was regaining its footing – or should she say hoofing? – but was badly dented.

The rook turned slowly around and whistled again.

She had no time to think. She turned, spotted a bishop a few feet to the right behind her charging up an attack, and she staggered over to place herself directly between it and the rook.

The rook stamped its feet, lowered its head, and charged. The bishop leaned back, took a bracing step, and fired.

She jumped to the right. The lightning bolt shot forward and scattered against the rook's head as it bore down on the bishop. Sure enough…

BAM!

The rook rammed straight into it, sending it flying into pieces that scattered across the board.

She had to drop to her knees again as two more shots were fired at her. There were five bishops left and a dozen knights, all of which were converging on them in a giant, constricting circle.

They were running out of time.

"Wilson!" She called. "Keep the bishops off of me!"

She couldn't hope to hear a response and once again cursed the Deerclops for deafening her. The rook turned around and she sought out a new target.

There were no more bishops behind her, but there was a knight. She positioned herself in front of it, stepping out of its range as it lunged at her, and twirled out of the way as the rook came bearing down on it.

This time she didn't waste a second. Before the rook had even finished its charge she picked out an optimal target – a two bishops in a row. Both were staring at Wilson, who was dodging three knights and constant lightning bolts wildly. He needed help.

She lined it up, waved at the rook, and it stomped and charged her.

BAM! BAM!

She leaped to the side and two bishops went down. Her gaze darted to the mime, who was sitting in his chains watching her, his mouth hanging open in amazement.

With a thrill of adrenal elation she mimed throwing back a cape like a matador and yelled, "Ole!"

His face split into a grin and he clapped. Then his eyes widened and he pointed.

She turned to see a knight bearing down on her. She dodged, but its ear clipped her ribcage going past. A few shards of her wooden armor flew off and she knew by the pain she'd have a bad bruise there tomorrow. Okay, no more theatrics.

The rook was coming at her again. Another jump and the knight was down.

She went around the board clearing pieces with every rook's rush. First she took down the remaining bishops – Wilson had done as she'd asked and drawn their attention marvelously – then she cleared out the knights, one or two at a time.

With a last screeching crash that she could barely hear, the board was clear.

Well, almost clear.

The rook turned and glared at her. Its eyes weren't like normal monsters' eyes, white; instead they glowed yellow, and were void of anything like rage or emotion. A true machine.

She called to Wilson, "I'll keep it busy! Look for a chink in the armor!"

He nodded and she leaped aside as it rushed her again.

And again.

And again.

She stumbled out of the way, exhausted, as it rushed by again. Wilson had darted at it several times to jab at various places on its haunches before it could rush her, but he didn't seem to be doing any damage.

Nearly out of breath, she yelled, "Have you found anything?"

His despairing expression told her all she needed to know. It had no weak spots.

She turned to face it again and examined it closely herself. Sure enough, all the metal plates on its sides were tightly fastened down, less than a centimeter of space between parts. It was designed so everything moved forward-backward, not in-out, so there was no space large enough to lodge a spear.

Except…

As she watched it lowered its head, its mouth dropped open in its normal, whistling bellow, and it charged.

_It's mouth!_

She leapt out of the way again, but she couldn't keep doing this. She was running on empty.

There was only one direction she could hit that thing from that could possibly do any damage, and she couldn't do it with a spear. She flung this to the side and pulled out her blowgun, loading a fire dart into it. She took a deep breath, turned to face the rook, and waited.

The rook turned, lowered its head, roared…

And belched flames as she shot a dart straight into its open gullet.

Its charge showed no difference in functionality, and she hoped that the fire was actually doing damage. She felt the rush of wind as the rook blew by again. Wilson ran forward waving his hands, trying to get the rook's attention, but it had eyes for no one but her. It had been on her for too long.

She reloaded, took a deep, desperate breath, and blew again as the rook bellowed and charged. Once again her dart flew into its mouth, and this time the rook shuddered a fair bit going past.

Yes. Just a few more.

It stopped and turned around. As it did so something began crackling inside it, and one of its eyes popped and went dark.

Still, it lowered its head, bellowed, and charged.

She shot another dart, stepped to the side…

And her leg gave out.

She'd pushed herself well past the point of exhaustion, and it showed in that final jump. She smelled smoke and burning oil as the clockwork beast bore down on her. She stumbled as she dodged, and as the rook blew past her its shoulder finally managed to clip her. The glancing blow sent her flying, pain exploded throughout the right side of her body, her head hit the marble…

And darkness enveloped her.

* * *

She vaguely thought she heard Maxwell calling to her, hissing at her, trying to deride her for destroying yet another of his favorite creations, but she wasn't quite catching on. Everything was too garbled. Her thoughts were scrambled like tallbird eggs with beefalo milk, and eventually she gave up even trying to hear what was being said to her and just dropped down into total unconsciousness.

Eventually she started to stir, and she knew she was returning to consciousness by the notable fading of anything resembling noise.

She started to feel again. Gravity was pressing down on her like an iron weight preventing her from lifting her head, her arms, her legs, anything. Even her chest felt compressed, though she eventually managed a groan. At once she became aware of a hand on hers, gently squeezing, and she squeezed back. She lay there for a few minutes, breathing, coming back to herself, and finally opened her eyes.

Her first thought was, _That's not Wilson._

The face above her was white – not white as death, but white as face paint. With rosy red cheeks. A frizzy mop of short black hair framed a very concerned face. Wide grey eyes looked down at her over a cute button nose.

_Huh?_

A hand reached out and shoved the strange face away, and a moment later Wilson's took its place.

"Ungh. Hey…Wilson."

Her eyes rolled around in her head. She could barely focus on anything, but it came to her that she was lying on the grass with a blanket beneath her head acting as a pillow. Her head felt oddly constricted, and she lifted her hand to feel a thick layer of bandages wrapped around her skull.

Wilson placed a hand gently on her shoulder and said – or at least mouthed – _Don't worry. You're safe,_ and gave her a thumbs up.

"Okay," she said hazily. "Um. Who was…?"

Wilson looked up at their new friend and scowled deeply. Then he looked down at her again and gestured for her to stay there. He said something to the object of his displease, then got up and left.

At once the new guy popped back into her field of vision. Now that she was able to focus a bit better she could see lines of skin where his face paint was washed away vertically down his cheeks. It looked like he'd been crying.

"Hey," she croaked. "You're the guy from the…" she waved her hand airily in the direction she thought the chessboard battlefield had been.

He nodded, pointed at her and in the direction Wilson had gone, then put his wrists together and violently yanked them apart.

Right. They'd freed him. "So you're okay, right?"

He nodded again.

"That's g-g-great," she yawned. "My name is Allena. Allena Jones. Who are you?"

He held up three fingers, then turned his hand sideways, then held up both hands in a pair of linked C's, one backwards.

She frowned in confusion. "Huh? Oh, you're um…you're a mime, aren't you?"

He nodded again, and repeated the gesture. She stared blankly, trying to figure it out. He repeated it patiently a couple more times, then it clicked.

"Oh!" She said. When he held up the three fingers he wasn't miming a three, he was making a 'W'. Turning the hand sideways turned it into an 'E', and the two linked C's made an 'S'.

"…Wes…?" She guessed.

He grinned and nodded wildly.

She smiled back, but man was her head hurting. She winced as she tried to sit up, and fell back down. "Pleased to meet you, Wes. Um. So, you're a mime? You don't talk at all?"

He jerked his head to the side and zipped a finger in the opposite direction. Translation: _not on your life!_

She chuckled. "That's okay. That's just as well, because I can't hear."

His eyes widened in surprise and he held his hands up to his ears and twisted, then splayed his fingers out and tilted his head. "Yup," she replied. "Totally deaf. Well, almost totally deaf. I can hear things that are really high pitched, but otherwise…"

Wes pointed back at the chessboard and mimed holding a horn to his mouth with one hand and tooting a steam-engine horn with the other.

The rook's steam whistle bellow. "Yeah, I could hear that, but just barely. Uh, what happened? Is everything okay?"

Wes pouted, then pointed at her, then brought two of his hands together violently so they just clipped each other, whirled one of them around and slapped it down on his arm in a rolling motion.

She pondered that one for a moment then said, "Oh, yeah, that thing clipped me, right? Knocked me out?"

His face lit up and he nodded, then he bit his lip and looked sad again. Odd.

It seemed like he'd been worrying about her. That was touching. "It's okay," she said. "I'll be fine. Trust me, I've had worse, and I'm already feeling a lot better. Just give me some time to rest and I'll be okay. We found a base nearby, we can stay there overnight while I recover.

Wes' eyes widened and he flattened his hands next to each other, brought them up and towards each other in a curving motion, then made several sharp, plucking motions.

She bit her lip and thought about that one. Then she got it. He was outlining a tree, and the plucking motions were thorns. "Yeah, in the forest with the thorny trees."

Wes looked thrilled, and she wondered why. "You seem happy," she said.

He nodded and lifted his hands, but before he could mime anything else Wilson returned looking ornery, though the expression softened when he caught her eye. He knelt beside her and picked up the notepad. _Allena, are you alright? Your head was bleeding so badly, I was worried…_

She waved him off. "I'm okay. It feels like there's a clockwork rhino romping around in my skull, but I brought some aspirin and anti-inflammatories. Could you grab the first aid kit?"

He nodded and fetched it at once. She pulled out the pills she was looking for – she took the largest dose of Ibuprofen she could, concussions were nothing to mess around with – and asked, "Is there any snow left to scrounge up? I could use some ice on my head."

Wes hopped up and jogged away immediately. Wilson glared after him and rolled his eyes. He jerked his thumb after the mime with an exasperated look.

Allena said, "Aww, come on Wilson, don't be like that. Wes seems sweet. I like him."

Wilson tilted his head curiously and mouthed, _Wes?_

She nodded. "That's his name. Wes." And she mimed the W-E-S.

A bit of comprehension lit his features and he wrote down, _Oh, THAT'S what he was doing. I couldn't for the life of me figure it out._

"What happened?" she asked, eager to know what had occurred after she'd been knocked out.

Wilson shrugged and wrote down, _Not much. The rhino clipped you and knocked you out, but something went wrong with it a moment later. It tried to stop running and couldn't, and it just ran and ran until it fell apart. It's scattered all over the hill. The moment it died the chains on Wes' wrists and ankles just vanished. They were black, like Maxwell's shadow limbs, so I assume the two were related._

"Yeah, that makes sense. Man, Maxwell sure is a bastard, isn't he? What do you think Wes did to deserve that?"

Wes had just gotten back and had overheard her. He leaned over her, wide-eyed and innocent, and shrugged theatrically. She giggled.

Wilson once again rolled his eyes and wrote her a note, shielding it from Wes. _Perhaps he just annoyed him. He sure is annoying me._

She gave Wilson a disappointed look and hissed in relief as Wes plopped a handful of snow right down on her forehead. "Ahh…that's perfect, Wes. Thank you. Ugh, my head…"

She laid there resting for a while longer, but though she was tired she wouldn't let herself go back to sleep, and once the snow melted she sat up. She winced as the sensation of an icepick being driven into her skull washed over her, and she clutched her stomach against a wave of nausea.

Wilson put a hand to her shoulder to push her back down, but she resisted. "No," she said. "If I keep lying here I'll fall asleep, and I think it's safe to say I have a concussion. If I fall asleep before it wears off, there's a chance I won't wake up again."

Wes slapped his hands to his cheeks in an exaggeration of horror, and hopped up. He tapped his chest, pointed at her, brought his fingers to his eyes and mimed forcing his eyelids wide open.

He'd help keep her awake. She laughed. "Thanks, Wes. I appreciate it."

Wilson looked between the two in confusion, then shook his head. He helped her to her feet and handed her the notepad. _What do you want to do?_

She staggered a bit, and Wilson steadied her. "I guess I'll want to take it pretty easy, but let's walk a while more then turn around and head back the forest base. Okay?"

He raised an eyebrow as though to ask if that was really a good idea, but Wes nodded at her suggestion. He pointed at his legs, brought his hands up in front of him and made a crushing gesture with them.

She looked at him sympathetically. "Yeah, I can imagine," she said. His legs must have been horribly cramped from his confinement. No doubt the thought of a nice, low-stress walk appealed to him.

Wilson looked baffled.

Allena said, "Wilson, if you think I ought to sit down for a while more then I know something you could do in the meantime. I saw a red gem in a crack in the rock up there." She pointed to the rocky outcropping she'd first seen Wes from. "I could rest up for a few more minutes while you mine it out."

Wilson looked interested. The three of them made their way up the hill and she pointed out the crack to Wilson, shining her flashlight into it. He gave her a thumbs up, unstrapped his mining pick from the side of his backpack, and started swinging.

Wes was staring at her flashlight curiously. It occurred to her that he might have been from an era that didn't have flashlights, or at least not ones like hers. If Wilson had come from nineteen-twenty and she from twenty-nineteen, Wes might have been from just about anywhere. Or rather, anywhen. "It's a flashlight," she explained, flicking it on and aiming the beam at the ground. "Did you have these in your era?"

Wes looked confused at the question, but nodded. Then he brought his hands together and pulled them about a foot apart, held his fingers up in a circle two inches wide, and brought his fingers up to his eyelids and pinched them until they were squinted.

"Ah," she said. "They were bigger and dimmer, huh?"

He nodded.

Wilson was hacking away, and as usual his strength impressed her. As she watched, he brought the pick down on a chunk of rock about five inches thick and it split cleanly off the shelf, toppling to the ground. The motion seemed effortless. Man, he was strong.

She looked back to Wes. "Hey, may I ask what year it was when you came here? Wilson came from nineteen twenty, I'm from twenty nineteen…when are you from?"

His jaw dropped, but he held up a few trembling digits. First a one, then a nine, then a three, then an eight.

"Nineteen thirty-eight, huh? And where were you from?"

His eyes lit up and he mimed a tall, curved, pointed spire, large buildings with rounded tops, something that looked like a rectangle containing a round arch, and finally several grand gestures, a praying motion, and he lifted both arms to a narrow point above his head – a grand spire.

She frowned, pondering, but only for a moment. What kind of city had that much grand architecture, and was full of mimes? "You're not from _Paris,_ are you?"

He smiled widely and nodded.

She grinned, then the smile dropped off her face and her eyes widened as she considered the ramifications of what he'd said. Or rather, mimed. "You're from Paris, and you vanished in…nineteen thirty-eight?"

He nodded, frowning at her tense expression.

She shook her head slowly. "Oh, wow. This might sound odd, Wes, but Maxwell – assuming it was Maxwell who brought you here – may have saved your life."

Wes looked skeptical, put a hand on his hip, pointed at one of the Maxwell statues, then pointed at himself. _Maxwell? Saved my life?_

She nodded. "Yeah. Just a couple years after you vanished a war began. You remember World War One…or rather, The Great War?"

He nodded, looking a bit taken aback by her apparent misnaming of the disaster.

"Well, there was another one – another world war – and France got caught up in it. It…uhh…didn't go well. France was overrun, and Paris was occupied for about four years, I think. It was pretty rough."

Wes reeled back, shocked. She held up her hands in a comforting gesture. "Don't worry! I mean, yeah, it was bad, but France had allies – Britain chief among them. And America joined the war, we recaptured Normandy, and we helped liberated Paris. My grandpa fought in Normandy. Nowadays France is doing pretty well. We're allies. And none of your favorite monuments were destroyed, either."

Wes looked relieved. Then she dropped another bombshell. "Oh, there was a fire, recently, though…uhhh…Notre Dame kind of burned down."

He fainted.

Alarmed, she tried to catch him, but it wasn't necessary. He brought the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned to the ground, but actually caught himself about a foot from it, knees bent, ankles stiff, hanging there impossibly for a long moment. Then he brought himself back up without any help. He'd mimed the faint, and very impressively.

His legs shook as he brought himself back up, though, and he actually looked down at them, shocked, as though they had betrayed him. His expression became horribly frustrated, and he actually slammed his fists down on his thighs and slumped his shoulders dejectedly. Then he sat down heavily, crossed his arms over his knees, and put his head in his arms.

She felt a sharp twinge of pity, and sat down next to him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he looked up, surprised. There were tears welling in his eyes.

She gave him a sideways hug and said, "Hey, don't worry, it wasn't the whole thing. Besides, Notre Dame gets damaged all the time. They've rebuilt it before, they'll rebuild it again. They're already working on it, it'll be fine."

He nodded sadly, but then slammed his fists against his legs again in frustration.

She chuckled slightly. "Given that you've been chained up for goodness knows how long, I'd cut your legs some slack. Give them some time, stretch them out, exercise them a bit, you'll be one hundred percent in no time. I certainly won't judge you. I think you're brilliant, quaky legs aside."

His eyes popped open. Mouth hanging wide in disbelief, he pointed at her, then he pointed at himself, then splayed out his hands and wiggled his fingers.

_YOU think I'M brilliant?_

She grinned. "Yeah! You're awesome. I've never met a mime before. It's kind of a lost art nowadays."

Wes whipped his head around suddenly, as though he'd heard something alarming, and Allena looked over to see Wilson dragging himself backwards out of a hole he'd almost fallen in.

She jumped up and ran over to him, Wes right behind her. "Wilson! Are you okay? What happened?"

She and Wes grabbed his arms and helped him up. He had fallen half into a chasm that must have opened up suddenly while he'd been mining, the rock under his feet giving way to open space under the force of his blows on the shelf above it. She'd thought the cracks had been deep, but she hadn't suspected they went all the way through to…

Wilson stood up, mouth hanging open in a gasp, and she pulled her flashlight out and shone it into the abyss.

The hole Wilson had made was only about three feet wide and two feet across, but it seemed to extend down deeper than her flashlight was capable of showing. That was saying something – it was a pretty strong beam.

Wilson gestured for them to get back, picked up his fallen pick, and began furiously hacking at the stone around the hole. It looked like the gem had fallen in, sadly.

He quickly enlarged the hole. Since it was about noon the sun shone straight down inside, and that light was just enough to see the bottom, which was at least fifty feet below them.

A bare stone shelf seemed to extend well beyond the light, and she could see a few vague shapes down there; small, white balls, unidentifiable from this distance, could just be spotted at the bottom. Spider webs, plant life, mineral deposits, it was impossible to say. Other than that it was just dust and darkness.

She shivered. "Wow. Wonder what's down there?"

Wilson looked at her, mildly alarmed, and she laughed nervously. "Don't worry, I'm not going to run off on another expedition if I get upset with you over anything. And if I did, I definitely wouldn't go down there. Besides, how would we even get down? Even that rope I made you would barely cover half the distance. Nah, I'll stay up here, thank you very much."

Wilson nodded fervently agreement, eyeing the pit as though it contained some horrific monster. Which, let's be honest, it probably did.

They spent a few minutes inspecting the hole, then shrugged. Wilson wrote, _There goes the gem. Ah, well. Allena, are you sure you want to keep exploring? That blow was bad; you need time to recover._

She nodded. "I know, but if I sit down I'll want to sleep this headache off. If I fall asleep—"

He waved her explanation aside. He got it.

"So, which way? You seemed to like whatever your side had."

His expression became more optimistic and he nodded, pointing in the direction of the grassland.

She saw at once why he was so excited when they crested the grassy ridge. A handful of beehives dotted the green expanse before them, but mostly it was full of flowers and butterflies.

She shook her head in amazement and said, "Okay, there is no way something in this field won't want to kill us. I bet those flowers are combustible, or the beehives are full of sentient, aggressive bee-people, or maybe it's like that field of poppies in The Wizard of Oz, you know? The ones that make you fall asleep forever?"

Wes' mouth popped open and he doubled over, slapping his knee.

Well, at least he found it funny. She was only half-joking.

Wilson patted his spear reassuringly, letting her know that nothing would hurt her while he was around. Cautiously assuaged, she descended to the Valley of Honey and Flowers and prayed that it wasn't about to spontaneously become the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Wilson was jogging around examining each flower closely. Most of them he dismissed, but he ended up picking several. She saw that there were quite a few of the white lily-like ones that made the excellent healing tea, much to her delight. Looked like they were having tea tonight. The others he picked were all small cream-colored daisy-like flowers that hung off of long stalks. These were good to eat raw and would soothe…hmmm. What was it Wilson said they soothed?

Her head throbbed again and she remembered. Right. Headaches.

Wes was also running around picking flowers, any of the ones Wilson left behind being fair game. She had no clue what he wanted to do with them, but maybe he had some experience with the local flora that they lacked. As for her, she wandered slowly behind, taking deep breaths and sipping water from her bottle.

Wilson jogged back to her, pointing at her backpack, and she slung it off her shoulders. They'd brought along a container specifically for storing flowers, and Wilson wanted to deposit his haul. He dumped a huge bundle of carefully plucked white lilies in the container, then handed her a half a dozen stalks of the headache relieving flower. "Thank you," she said gratefully. He smiled and bowed.

She began munching on the stalks – she liked them, they reminded her of a plant back home called Miner's Lettuce – and as she finished the last stalks Wes came running up to her, too.

She cocked her head as he fiddled with something in his hands, looked up at her, then flung his arms out and presented her with…

A crown of flowers?

Her face broke into a wide smile as she examined it. Sure enough, he'd tied all the flowers Wilson had left behind into a stunningly beautiful, close-woven crown. There were red ones, orange ones, yellow ones, and pink ones. Right in the center three big, beautiful red blooms stood out like crown jewels.

Positively beaming, she took it and placed it carefully on her head with the red flowers facing out. "Oh, Wilson, look at it! Isn't it gorgeous?"

Strangely, Wilson looked nonplussed. Shrugging off the distinct lack of normal response she turned to Wes and said, "Thank you, Wes. It's beautiful. I love it." And she gave him a hug.

Wes looked quite happy with himself. Then he looked over her shoulder and his eyes widened. He quickly turned, put his hands behind his back, puckered up his lips like he was whistling, and began idly kicking one foot. It was a posture that clearly stated: _What? I'm not doing anything!_

She turned around just in time to see Wilson, expression stormy, whirl away and march off to keep collecting flowers.

She watched him yank a few more white lilies up roughly by their stems, and all the butterflies that had been gently fluttering around darted away in a few alarmed wingbeats.

Wes was still standing around looking totally innocent, though she saw an expression of mild concern cross his face at Wilson's behavior.

Okay, something was clearly up with Wilson, and she needed to make sure it wasn't going to be a problem. She gestured to Wes to wait there a moment, and he nodded affirmatively.

She walked over to Wilson where he stood glaring at a bunch of white lilies nestled just under a beehive, probably wondering whether it was safe to pick them or not. She touched his shoulder and asked softly, "Hey, are you alright?"

He looked over at her, nodded sharply, and went back to examining the hive.

She frowned. That didn't seem quite right. "Are you sure? You seem tense. Is it because of Wes?"

He shrugged moodily and still made no move to pull out the notepad to communicate.

This was starting to get irritating. If there was a problem with their new companion, he needed to spit it out. "Wilson, do you think he's dangerous?"

He did a double-take at the question and peered at her strangely. She elaborated, "You're not acting like yourself. You've been moody and hostile towards him since we met. Did something happen between you two while I was unconscious?"

He shook his head firmly. No.

"Okay, are you upset because I was injured trying to rescue him?"

He frowned, seemed to consider it for a moment, then shook his head firmly again. Another no.

She pursed her lips. There was one more thing she could think of, but it seemed fairly absurd. "You're not jealous of him, right? I mean, I can't for the life of me imagine you would be, but still…"

Wilson threw up a hand in mild exasperation and raised a questioning eyebrow.

She looked at him curiously. "Okay, I'm just making sure that's not it, because honestly…"

They looked back to where Wes stood. Or rather, sat. In an invisible chair. As they watched he raised a cup of invisible tea to his lips, pinky out, then set it down on the invisible table in front of him. He then picked up an invisible paper, shook it out, and scowled at a piece of invisible news he'd just read.

She looked back to her beau. "Wilson, he's a _mime."_

Wilson looked at her closely, then blushed. Finally he pulled out the notepad and wrote her a valid sentiment. _Ah, well, you know how protective I get of you. He just seems very…friendly._

Allena sighed heavily. Seriously? Now feeling distinctly exasperated she explained to him in no uncertain terms, "Of course he's friendly, Wilson. How long do you think he's been stuck there with no one to talk to? Or rather, mime to? And then we just ride in like knights in shining armor and beat up all the bad guys and rescue him. Of course he's going to be friendly, he was probably scared out of his wits being Maxwell's prisoner! I don't know about you, but if I'd gone through something like that I'd be fairly desperate for a friend or two. I know you don't like the whole mime thing, but do you think it would hurt to be a little nicer to him? Please?"

She asked this genuinely. She was already fond of the little guy, and didn't want him to feel compelled to run off on his own just because Wilson was being all alpha-male on him.

Wilson actually looked genuinely embarrassed. He ducked his head and nodded.

Wes looked up from his 'paper' and saw them. He peered closely at them, blinking a few times as if partially blind, then pulled something out of his pocket. He fiddled with it, then lifted it to his – oh, okay, never mind, it was just a pair of invisible glasses. Once these were securely on his nose he lit up in recognition and waved.

She slapped a hand to her face and started laughing. "Honestly, Wilson, I fail to see how anyone can argue the entertainment value of that."

Wilson gave her a totally baffled look and threw his hands up in further exasperation, shaking his head.

She waved Wes over and he hopped up, stumbling once again and pointing to his legs as though they were ill-behaved dogs. Once satisfied that his legs had been properly chastised he jogged over to them. "Hey, Wes," she said. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry at all?"

He grimaced and clutched his stomach.

"We have plenty of jerky rations, would you like some?

He brought his hands up in front of him, limp-wristed and dangling. His tongue flopped out and he began panting. Classic begging dog.

She grinned and opened the jerky bag, holding out a piece. "Good boy," she laughed as he grabbed it and began gnawing frantically at it. How long had it been since Maxwell had fed him?

Wilson looked at Wes sternly for a moment, clearly disapproving of the show, then seemed to relent. He said something, and Wes pointed up at the sky, brought his fingers together to form a large circle, then splayed them out while widening his eyes.

Wilson scratched his head and said something. Wes shook his head and did the mime again, this time pointing at the western horizon and tracing his finger in a broad path across the sky.

Wilson said something else and Wes gave him one thumbs up, one thumbs down. Then he held a finger up straight and started ticking it like a clock, but then swiped it backwards in a full, counterclockwise circle. Wilson said something else. Wes made the counterclockwise motion again, and Wilson looked surprised. Another question, or comment, and Wes made one more circle. Wilson seemed to exclaim something disbelievingly and Wes nodded sadly.

"Um. Sorry, what?" She asked Wilson. "What did you ask him?"

Wilson jotted down a note, brow furrowed heavily. _I asked him how long he'd been stuck. He says roughly four full moons – four months._

Allena's eyes widened in horror. Four months, chained to that stone flat with nothing but a clockwork knight for company?

She looked at Wes questioningly, and he nodded again. Then he shrugged, smiled shakily at them, pointed at them, and gave them a thumbs up.

_But now I have you!_

Four months. Alone for _four months._ She'd barely lasted two weeks before it had started to drive her crazy.

She wrapped him in a hug again, this one tighter than the first, and he tensed. Then he returned it cautiously.

They broke off and he looked at Wilson nervously, twiddling his thumbs, and Wilson grimaced. He said something and patted him on the back.

Wes lit up like a Christmas light and flung his arms around Wilson.

Allena started laughing so hard her headache, which had been dwindling rapidly, came back full force at the shade of red Wilson's face turned. He bared his teeth and she suspected he may have been growling or hissing, because Wes broke off quickly and just started hopping around looking ecstatic.

She was still laughing when she felt something land on her shoulder. Without thought her hand came up and swatted it away.

A moment later Wilson's and Wes' heads both whipped around to look at the hive in horror, then at her. Then Wilson darted forward, grabbed her arm, and yanked her violently into a run.

She glanced back just in time to see a swarm of red bees rising from the hive as the one she'd just accidentally swatted droned dazedly around them. Oops.

She put on speed and she and Wilson ran for their lives, Wes right beside them. Then sprinted for the thorny forest and Allena decided she'd stayed on her feet long enough. Back to camp it was.

* * *

They managed to lose the swarm and soon they were on their way back through the forest. Wes kept pointing at things along the way, but they were moving quickly enough that he didn't have time to mime out whatever he was trying to convey before they were past whatever had caught his attention. "Sorry, Wes, maybe tomorrow? Since we're going to be staying in this base overnight we'll want to make sure we have everything we need for it. Wilson will want to gather some lumber for a fire, then we'll want to look around for a clean water supply…"

At this Wes nodded rapidly and pointed off to the west somewhere, then mimed sipping a glass of water.

That was encouraging. "You know where water is?"

He nodded again.

Wilson glanced back at him and said something. Wes gave him a thumbs up and a big smile. Wilson nodded and turned his attention back to not getting skewered on a thorny trunk.

It was a bit of a walk back to base, and Allena started humming absentmindedly. The silence was nearly agonizing at times, but she could at least hear herself when she spoke or sang and often found herself humming when the silence became too oppressive.

Her thoughts wandered to-and-fro as she meandered among the stumps that marked the path, and a while later she looked up to see Wes and Wilson side by side, engaged in quiet conversation. Wilson seemed to have trouble interpreting Wes' miming, so he was sticking to pretty basic stuff. Thumbs up, thumbs down, nod, shake, shrug, so on.

They both glanced back to her where she lingered behind a ways, and she stopped humming, smiled, and waved at them. Wes smiled back. Wilson lifted a hand…then went sprawling as he tripped over a stump.

Her eyes widened and she ran up to help him up. Tripping in a snowy, grassy field was one thing. Tripping in a forest of foot-long thorns was quite another.

She knelt beside him as he checked his palms. They were slightly scraped and had a few splinters from the hacked up trees in them. That was okay – she had a high-quality set of tweezers in her first aid kit. "Don't worry, I'll fix that up as soon as we get back to camp. Is it far, do you remember?"

Wilson shook his head, then held up five fingers. Five more minutes, probably.

Sure enough they got to the gate soon, and Wes began acting oddly. He hopped up and down excitedly, but then stilled and looked at the gate curiously. He ran right up and banged his fists against the door in what Allena recognized as shave-and-a-haircut, but when he didn't get a response his shoulders drooped. He looked forlorn.

Wilson came up and said something to him, and Wes lifted his hands to mime something, then decided against it, waving them dismissively. He seemed really upset about something.

Wilson let them in and sealed the door off behind them again, and as he started unpacking a few things Allena went over to Wes. He was looking around at everything with a dismayed expression, and she thought she knew why.

"Wes," she said carefully. "Was this where you were living before that thing with Maxwell?"

He nodded sadly, examining a dusty set of cookware.

She recalled how there seemed to be two of everything, large and small, and she asked, "With someone else? A friend?"

He nodded again.

"But they aren't here now, and it looks like they've been gone for a while."

He looked at her, and there were once again tears in his eyes. All at once he began miming things frantically, hands moving so fast she could barely tell what they were doing.

She held her own up pacifyingly and said, "Woah, there, slow down. Start at the beginning."

His lip quavered and he started miming, this time more carefully.

She sat down beside the fire to watch, and over the next hour she managed to piece together his story. Some of it he had to mime multiple times or in different ways, but she got the gist eventually.

Wes had arrived in this world about a year ago, and hadn't been faring well. He'd been able to survive on basic things like berries and carrots, but had been having trouble with anything that required any sort of skill or speed or cunning to catch. Beefalo and tallbirds were, of course, an impossibility to him. Sounded familiar to her.

Then, about two months after his arrival, he met someone else and they became a team not unlike hers and Wilson's. Wes would gather grass and sticks and small things, and craft basic tools; his friend – who was, according to Wes, very big and strong – would lop down the trees, smash the boulders, deal with construction, and of course, hunt big game.

Wes couldn't seem to emphasize enough how big and strong his friend was, taking care to make sure they knew how much bigger and stronger than Wilson he was, specifically. Needless to say, Wilson didn't care for the show all that much once he picked up on the subject matter.

Things had been going well for them until about four months prior. They'd built this base, they were getting fairly comfortable…then Maxwell had shown up.

Simply put, he'd decided that their dynamic duo wasn't to his liking anymore. He used his shadow hands to wrap Wes's friend up, and Wes, who had been cowering up until then, had tried to help. That was when they found out exactly what he'd done to piss Maxwell off.

He'd walked up and decked him right in the schnoz.

Allena had had to force a laugh down as he mimed it. Just like an old-fashioned boxer, he'd held up his fists, bounced around a bit, then WHAM! Right hook to the nose.

At that point she'd imagined Maxwell standing there, watching him distastefully, not actually thinking he was going to hit him until the punch actually landed, and she'd broken up into a fit of giggles. "S-sorry," she'd apologized. "I just wish I'd been there to see it in person."

Wes hadn't minded the interruption. In fact, he'd crossed his arms and nodded as though to say, _And I'd do it again, too._

After that Maxwell had let Wes's friend go, wrapped Wes up instead, and transported him elsewhere with the promise that he would never see his friend again.

She'd asked, "But your prison was only a short ways away. Didn't he go looking for you?"

Wes had nodded, but then explained that the prison they'd found him in hadn't been the same one he'd started out in. Maxwell had kept moving him around. That had been his sixth prison.

Wilson had watched this entire thing in increasing befuddlement.

Finally, Wes finished and Allena sat down next to him as he slumped into his chair by the fire. Now that she took the time to look, she saw that the chair was carved with laughing and frowning masks, the kind that symbolize the theater. Comedy and tragedy. Just for him.

She tapped the chair and asked, "Did your friend make these?"

Wes nodded, looking miserable, and pointed at the other one. It was carved with wolves.

No wonder he'd been so distraught upon returning. Doubtless, he was worried sick about his friend.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "They're beautiful. He did a really good job on them. We don't have any chairs back at base; maybe he can make some for us when we find him?"

Wes looked at her, surprised, and tilted his head questioningly. She patted his shoulder and said, "Well, come on, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere. I bet he's running around looking for you. Wilson has explored a lot of this world, he's a master survivor and explorer, and he always goes on expeditions in the spring. We can mount the next expedition to find your friend."

Wes was looking at her in total shock, and he turned to Wilson questioningly. Wilson heaved a heavy breath, but nodded and said something, then puffed up his chest impressively.

Slowly, Wes' face turned up into a huge, hopeful smile. He leapt up and started doing actual cartwheels around the base.

Allena grinned at Wilson, who sighed and shook his head.

That's when she remembered his skinned palms, and she hopped up and said, "Oh, Wilson, I'm sorry; let me get my tweezers out. For your hands."

Wilson tried to wave her off, wrote down, _It's fine, they'll work themselves out,_ but she wouldn't hear of it. Or, rather, read of it. She sat him down, grabbed the tweezers and spider salve, and took his hand firmly in hers.

She craned her neck and peered closely at the palm. Yikes. There were at least half a dozen pale little splinters in there, and who knew how many in the other hand.

She gripped his palm firmly and got to work, working each splinter out as carefully as possible to make sure they didn't get pushed further in. Her tweezers were the good kind, sharp enough to be a weapon. Wilson waited patiently as she got all the slivers out, applied small dabs of salve to them, and covered the whole palm in a thin layer of gauze to prevent irritation. She did the same on the other hand, and when she was done she looked up to see Wilson watching her.

Evidently, he appreciated her care. In his gaze was that same tender warmth she'd first seen that night by the fire after his failed beefalo hunt, the night he'd first kissed her. Now, as then, his hand came up and stroked her cheek.

He pulled her in for a gentle kiss. It always made her heart skip a beat when he did this, which wasn't often. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, and as they broke off they locked eyes one more time, nuzzled noses, and separated.

She leaned back and saw Wes standing there out of the corner of her eye. When she looked over at him he clasped his hands under his chin, stood on his tiptoes, and twirled on the spot.

_Awwwwwwwwwwwww!_

She blushed furiously and buried her hand in her hands as she realized how absurdly sappy that must have looked, but as she looked up she burst out laughing again as Wilson jumped up, snatched her tam o'shanter off her head and started chasing Wes all around the camp whacking him with it.

She was forced to acknowledge that alone time with Wilson might get a bit harder to come by in the future; but as she watched the two running madly around the camp, kicking up dirt and ruckus and generally acting like goofballs, she decided she didn't mind.


	24. Snap

Wilson and Wes had gone out to fetch water, lumber, and anything else Wes knew about in the area. Allena stayed behind, opting to tidy up the temporary camp, thoroughly shake out Wes's extremely dusty sleeping bag for him, and sort through the supplies and materials left in the base to see if they would want to bring anything back.

She saw something she hadn't noticed the first time through – a tall cabinet carved into the wood of the base, almost invisible. She had to work her fingers into a small gap in the covering plat. With a solid tug it toppled outward.

She whistled as the contents were revealed. Four high-quality, heavy-duty spears, an odd purple and yellow-speckled mace with spines sticking out of it – further inspection revealed this to be a petrified, whittled down tentacle tip – and three flat, curved pieces of wood.

"Boomerangs?" She mused out loud as she picked one up.

_Indeed. Perhaps you intend to try one of THOSE out on me as well?_

She whipped around to see Maxwell standing in the middle of the base, watching her mellowly. He'd traded in his winter coat for a new outfit; an open suit-jacket, inky black, with a dark grey vest underneath, all underlaid by a crisp white shirt and black tie. The cuffs and lapels were done in intricate, swirling patterns, and a blood-red carnation adorned the right breast of his jacket. His hair, which had been messy and wild on their last meeting, was now slicked back to silver perfection, no part to be seen. His complexion was pale grey.

She dropped the boomerang and tried grabbing a spear; the spear, however, was made for someone much larger than she and she barely had the strength to lift it, so she grabbed the tentacle spike instead. Still a bit heavy, but not unmanageable.

Of course, it was clear that attacking Maxwell would only do so much. She had dismissed him last time, when she'd impaled him after the Deerclops attack, but obviously…

She tightened her grip on the weapon in defiance of her enemy's apparent immortality, and he grinned. His mouth moved, but like last time she heard him only in her head. _My, my, my. How violent the Constant has made you. I must confess, I was quite shocked when you ran me through on our last meeting. I am fine, by the way, thank you for asking._

As she opened her mouth to respond she found her capacity for civility greatly depleted. Perhaps it was the Varg attack, the Deerclops, or what he'd done to Webber and Wes, but whatever inclination she'd had to be polite to the man was all but gone. "What do you want, Maxwell?"

He pulled out one of his cigars and took a long drag. As usual, he did not exhale the smoke. _I? I merely wanted to stop by to chat. I've been missing our interactions terribly, truth be told. How have you been, my dear?_

She gritted her teeth and spat, "Deaf."

He pouted. _Ah, yes, I suppose I ought to have reigned in my creation's vocal capacity a bit, but frankly I did not expect that anyone who got close enough to be deafened by it would live to suffer the consequences! I commend you, my dear._

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

His gaze sharpened, taking on a whole new level of interest. _Do you think my congratulation facetious? I hope not. It is quite sincere. The Deerclops was not created to be killed, not by you, not by anyone. The Varg, perhaps, but not the Deerclops. And my clockwork creations, too…all the King's horses, and all the King's men…_

He began walking towards her, slowly and steadily. She tried to step away, but to her horror she found herself bound when she tried to lift a foot. Her gaze dropped to see several small black hands encircling her ankles, their arms trailing back to Maxwell's own shadow.

She swallowed heavily, lifting the tentacle spike to defend herself, but as she did two more hands shot from the ground to encircle her wrists. They squeezed, and with a small cry of pain she was forced to drop the weapon.

The hands wrenched her arms apart, and now she stood completely vulnerable as Maxwell paced calmly up to her. When he stopped, his chest was only an inch shy of her own, and he looked down on her with a small smile on his face and a glow of fascination in his eyes.

Her breathing had grown ragged and hitched in fear, and she took a deep breath. "WIL—"

Another shadowy hand shot up and wrapped around her mouth.

She couldn't move, couldn't call for help, and she could barely breathe. Maxwell raised an eyebrow and spoke again.

_My dear; had it been anyone but my two favorite prisoners who caused me such inconveniences, do you know what I would have done?_

She couldn't shake her head, but she didn't need to. He leaned in close, lips inches from the side of her face, and answered his own question in a low, jovial hiss.

_I would have torn them limb from limb. I would have skinned them, put out their eyes, chopped off their hands and left them to crawl about all day long until night fell, and then I would have left them to be torn to pieces by the shadow. I would have broken their bones with my bare hands. I would have burned them alive, frozen them to death. In short, my dear, I would have killed them. Painfully._

She shook violently, and he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her fear as one might enjoy the aroma of a fine wine. He sighed blissfully. _But I would never do such a thing to_ you. _Nor Wilson, in case you were wondering, he added carelessly. No, I find myself terribly curious about what you two may accomplish given enough time. That said, I also eagerly await the close of our bargain._

His eyes had left her own and were now trailing across her skin. Down her cheek, along her jawline, to her neck. She felt the shadowy hand around her face tilt her chin up, and Maxwell descended. She felt a cool puff of breath on her throat as he spoke. _Don't you, my dear? I assure you, you will be far more comfortable with me than you ever could be out here…_

He placed a gentle kiss on her throat, and chuckled as it constricted with her attempted cry for help.

_Come now, my dear, I have so much to offer you…_

He placed a hand on her hip. The other hand snaked around her back. He continued lavishing attention upon her throat, speaking between each kiss and nip. _Lovely…delightful…so soft…so sweet…so…very…presentable…_

Every muscle was straining against her bindings, but they would not yield an inch. They held her down and forced her to endure his ministrations, and as his hands tightened on her a minute whimper escaped her. He was evil, he was sick, he was terrifying…

But he knew exactly what he was doing, and as his hands roved up and down her body and his lips tightened around her jugular hard enough to bruise, a small whimper escaped her constricted airways. It wasn't entirely motivated by fear.

All she could think about was Wilson.

Maxwell's hands came up to caress her hair, and he returned to face level. His eyes were smoldering coldly, and as the shadows vanished from her mouth and she took a deep and desperate breath to cry for help once again, he said,

_Don't worry, my dear. I'm not going to hurt you. I am simply sating myself with a taste of what is to come._

And he captured her lips in a kiss.

His fingers twisted tightly in her hair as his lips pressed against her own, oddly cool against her own fear-fevered flesh. She strained once more to break free, but her strength was spent. Exhausted, she relented and simply waited.

He broke off eventually, allowing her to gasp for air. He peppered further kissed across her jawline and was just traveling back down again when she croaked, lightheaded and miserable, "You say you aren't going to hurt me…that you want to wait and see what we can accomplish…then why do you keep sending _her_ after us…?"

His reply was low and distracted. _Hmm? Her…? Her who…?_

Still panting for breath, Allena answered, "The woman in the shadows."

Maxwell's eye twitched and he leaned back, gazing at her curiously, breathing just as heavily as she. _What woman in the shadows?_

Though exhausted, Allena gave another weak, fruitless tug on her bindings, desperate for more space. "The woman in black, with the short dark hair, the bob cut…"

She grasped for a more notable descriptor, and recalled what she'd thought the last time she'd seen the woman.

"She has really cute dimples."

Maxwell's eyes widened, and without any warning the shadowy hands tightened around her, heaved, and threw her bodily across the camp.

The world became a mad blur followed by sickening pain as she hit the ground and rolled. The right side of her body, already sore from the rook, soared back into agony. She heard Maxwell hissing furiously behind her and she tried to get to her feet, to run, to attack, to defend – but she could barely even move, let alone any of that.

Instead she covered her head with her arms and curled up into a ball.

She felt rage, confusion, and disbelief whirling around the camp like an actual hurricane of emotion. Then, slowly, it began to fade.

Rage calmed to irritation, confusion to dismissal, disbelief to mild skepticism. At last, as she lay there quivering on the ground, she heard Maxwell speak again.

_Forgive me, my dear. Your description reminded be briefly of someone that I used to know. A long-dead acquaintance of mine._

She gasped and forced herself to her hands and knees, though as she did so she felt the shadows snaking around her waist and gently aiding her in her attempt to stand up. She wanted to cringe away from them, but could not. Maxwell continued talking.

_I was always quite the excitable fellow in my youth, and though that aspect of me has largely mellowed with age it still pokes through from time to time. Oh, you should hear about what I did to the first person who destroyed one of my rooks. It was just when I was first getting into the whole, 'creating killer monstrosities to torment my prisoners' schtick…_

As he began rambling amiably in the background she stumbled over to her bag, still slightly stunned, and pulled out her phone. The charge was almost out, but with the last of it she pulled up her picture gallery, flipped to the picture of the shadow soman and staggered over to Maxwell.

_…at which point I told him, 'well, perhaps you should have considered that before you…'_

He trailed off as she held the camera up to him, showing him the grinning, feral face that she had by chance captured during her first encounter with the darkness.

Maxwell's eyes widened and his hand came up to take the phone from her. He held it close, staring at it in silence until the 'out of power' tone played and the phone shut down. Then, very quietly, almost like an echo in the back of her mind, she heard him say:

_Charlie…_

The shadows, which had gone still upon her showing him the picture, began jittering almost nervously.

_You told me she was dead._

Maxwell was not talking to her anymore. He was talking to his own shadows, and as he did they shuddered. Then, quickly as a striking viper, they rose up from the ground as solid tentacles, points deadly sharp, and all reared around to face her.

_YOU—_

They flew towards her in umbric rage, and she closed her eyes and waited for the pain.

And waited.

And waited.

When she cracked open her eyes again, she saw Maxwell standing there, staring off into the distance; but his hand had come up as though grasping something. The shadows were an inch from her face and seemed to be straining to run her through.

Maxwell's fists clenched, and the shadows fell to the ground like rivulets of ink. They all began sluggishly converging on him, and as they did he turned to her and nodded.

_Forgive me for my…intrusion. I must depart. Have a pleasant day, and…_

His eyes flickered south towards the plain where they had found Wes and the grasslands and the cavern to the deeps.

_…stay out of the caves._

And with that he, too, liquified into shadow. He sank into the ground and disappeared.

* * *

Entire body aching, Allena sat at the edge of the firepit and waited for Wilson and Wes to return. They did so about an hour later, just as dusk was approaching, and she saw that they looked fairly cheerful. Wilson had several large chunks of wood strapped to his back for their fire, and Wes was carrying a small barrel of water. Wilson seemed to be talking to him.

His eyes wandered away from Wes to seek her out, and as they landed on her his mouth slowed and stopped. In a single movement he went from a casual workman's stroll to a dead sprint, lumber falling heavily to the ground. He dashed to her side at once and mouthed something. Then a frustrated look crossed his face and he pulled out the notepad.

_What happened?_

She hadn't seen much of herself, but she imagined she must have looked awful. Her clothes were dirty and torn in a few places from the force of Maxwell throwing her across the base, and aside from that her eyes were likely bloodshot from recently shed tears. "Maxwell," she said dully.

Rage flickered briefly across his face and he wrote down, _No more being nice to him. Where are you hurt?_

She sat back a bit and said, "I don't know. Everywhere. He threw me." She pointed to the skid-marks she'd made on the ground.

Wilson looked at the skid marks, looked at her, then ran off to grab the first aid kit. She knew she could have treated most of her injuries herself in the time since Maxwell had left, but she simply hadn't been able to muster the strength.

Wes came over and looked at her, wide-eyed. Then he set his barrel down on a table, fetched a shallow wooden bowl, and poured some water in. He scrounged up a washcloth, brought the supplies over, sat down next to her and started gently wiping the dirt away from her face.

The tears sprang up again, and he washed these away, too. "Thanks, Wes."

He smiled brightly at her, though she could see worry in his face. Wilson came back a moment later with the supplies.

Maxwell's treatment of her had left her badly jarred, emotionally as well as physically, but Wilson and Wes' treatment of her calmed her immeasurably. By the time all of her scratches were treated and her face and hands washed, she had calmed down enough to talk.

She told them about the conversation, excluding the bit about the deal. She also excluded what Maxwell had done while she'd been bound, instead opting to say that he'd simply threatened her with her own weapon while explaining all of the horrible things he felt inclined to do to anyone who wrecked his creations. Then she explained what had driven him to throw her, the woman in the shadows, the picture, and concluded with Maxwell's odd warning and demeanor.

"…and then he said to stay out of the caves."

By the end of the story Wilson was nearly shaking with anger, much as he had been when she'd told him about the walruses. Wes was quivering and kept looking back over his shoulder, as though Maxwell might pop back up at any time.

Knowing that Wilson's fury was proportionate to how badly she was hurt, she attempted to reassure him. "Don't worry, Wilson. I'm fine. Maxwell keeps trying to freak me out, but other than some scrapes and bruises, there's nothing wrong. Really, I'm—"

He shoved a note into her hand. _You're going to let me deal with Maxwell from now on. I know how important civility is to you, and learning about Maxwell's plans, but this is getting out of hand. The Varg, the Deerclops, now this and what happened to Wes…he's too dangerous, Allena. If we keep treating him cordially, he'll keep coming back. We need to stop giving him reasons to return._

She thought about that. Then she said, "I don't know. I mean, I'm running pretty low on cordially anyways, but I don't think he'll leave us alone anymore, not now. Not after everything we've done – not after everything _I've_ done," she finished miserably. At this point she was forced to admit it; they were worse off, all of them, for her insistence that they treat Maxwell kindly. She only hoped that whatever he had planned next would only affect her. Not Wilson, not Wes, not Webber.

Wilson rubbed his temples. He looked tired.

She shivered as she felt night start to fall around them. Wilson grabbed some lumber and tossed it in the pit, and with a bit of kindling they soon had a roaring blaze. Wes grabbed the jerky bag, Wilson grabbed the flowers out of her backpack, and soon they were all sitting around the blaze with tea and jerky.

She thanked Wilson for the tea and Wes nodded strong concurrence. He seemed to like it.

Wes sat on one side of her, Wilson on the other. To Wes she asked, "So, how does it feel to have some company again?"

He smiled. He bundled himself up and chattered his teeth, then pointed at the sky, then mimed being blinded; he pointed at his head, took a deep breath, then mimed blowing something away; he clasped his hands over his chest, mimed lifting a heavy object, then throwing it off easily.

She thought about that. "Hmm. Okay, like being thawed by the sun; like a fog has been driven from your mind; and like a weight has been lifted from your chest?"

Wes' smile widened and he nodded with increasing intensity at each description. She felt Wilson nudge her and saw that he had a note for her.

_How do you do that?_

Huh? "Do what?"

_Understand what he's trying to say. It's all so much gobbledygook to me._

She shrugged. "I don't know. It just kind of makes sense, mostly."

Wes now tapped her on the shoulder for attention. He pointed at her, pointed at his eyes, then pointed at himself; he pointed at her, tapped his head, then pointed at himself. He pointed at Wilson, then started pointing everywhere but at her, pointed at himself, then made a grand NO gesture. Then he pointed at her again and slammed his fists against his chest.

She blinked. "Um. I notice you? And I understand you? But…Wilson doesn't, and not a lot of other people do, either?"

He nodded frantically, looking at her imploringly.

Oh. That made sense. Every time she had worked out one of Wes' stories or conversations Wilson had looked baffled, as though he hadn't understood what was going on. "Well, your friend always got what you were trying to say, right? The one who made you these chairs?"

Wes shrugged, tilted his hand back and forth – kinda – then just plain hung his head and shook it.

Even his best friend hadn't usually understood him? "I'm sorry, Wes. I can't imagine what it's like, not being understood to that degree."

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. It was Wilson throwing his hands in the air and looking annoyed. She snorted. "That's not fair! I've only been deaf for a couple weeks. And besides, you have your notepad."

Wilson raised an eyebrow, took the notepad, and shoved it over to Wes. Wes picked it up, looked at it, then smiled. He took the pencil and quickly wrote something down.

Both she and Wilson waited with bated breath. Were they about to receive an actual, lingual message from Wes?

Wes finished what he was writing and turned it around. Wilson slapped his forehead and Allena burst out laughing. Wes had drawn a great big heart with a W and an A in it, signed -W. Love for Wilson and Allena, from Wes.

She gently tore the note off and said, "Aww. We love you too. Thanks, Wes."

She folded the note up and stuck it in her pocket. Wes looked happy. She turned around to see Wilson gagging.

Boys.

They finished dinner and prepared for bed. She was sore as all get-out, so she really needed some sleep. "I cleaned your sleeping bag as best I could, Wes. It still smells kinda dusty, but hopefully it'll be okay to sleep in."

Wes examined the bag and gave her two big thumbs up. He laid it out under the lean-to, went to crawl into it, then stopped and looked at her imploringly. He gestured to the fire, mimed a lookout, grabbed an invisible broom and started dusting, then shrugged questioningly.

She yawned. "No, it's fine. No chores to do, we don't post lookouts, and Wilson and I will make sure the fire stays up all night. Thank you, though."

He gave her another thumbs up, crawled into his bag, and pretty soon he was asleep.

She wanted to go the same way and hoped that the various aches and stings across her body from Maxwell's manhandling of her wouldn't keep her up. She knew she would feel like crap in the morning no matter how well – or poorly – she slept that night, though.

She curled up beneath the blankets and a few minutes later Wilson joined her. He cuddled up close, wrapping an arm around her waist, and before she could even start to doze off he had rolled on top of her, arms on either side caging her into his embrace.

His eyes were flickering in the firelight, black and twinkling, and he nuzzled her nose. She nuzzled back, heart rate speeding up, and wrapped her arms around his waist. As she felt the warmth of his form against her, everything that had happened earlier came flooding back.

Desperate to force the memory of Maxwell out of her mind she pulled Wilson closer and kissed him desperately.

She was as quiet as possible, not wanting to bother Wes as he slept, but once again her drive for modesty was suppressed by her need to reinforce her ties to Wilson. He was happy to oblige, kissing and caressing her gently while propping himself up so his weight wouldn't exceed comforting constriction.

He brushed her hair back from her neck, but then she felt him go rigid. He leaned back, looking strange.

Oh, no. Maxwell. She recalled that he'd latched onto her jugular hard enough to leave a bruise, and Wilson must have spotted it. Her heart sank, and she wondered whether she could just tell him—

He peered at her questioningly and her heart sank. She couldn't lie to him.

Though she badly wanted to leave the memory alone to fade, she addressed it. "The bruise?" she asked, making sure that's what he was looking at. He nodded. "That was…from…" she grimaced and forced the word out. "…Maxwell."

Wilson's eye twitched and she felt him become even more tense. She explained, "When I said he threatened me with the weapon earlier, that wasn't true. I didn't want to talk about it – I still don't – but he…made some advances. Took advantage of the fact that I couldn't move. And he left…that," she said as she glanced down at the hickey.

She turned her head away, worried about how Wilson would process the news, but she simply felt him nuzzling her jawline a moment later, then dropping to her neck, nudging her head up gently. She acquiesced.

She was forced to bite her tongue against a yelp as his mouth descended upon the exact spot Maxwell had kissed her and she felt a hard nip followed by rough sucking. Was he…?

He was. He was overwriting Maxwell's claim to her with his own, leaving a bruise even worse than the demon's had been. She shivered at the sensation, not sure how exactly to feel about it.

Then again, as he worked his way gently across the rest of her neck, to her jawline, and a final peck on the lips, she decided she didn't mind. She was his – and he was hers.

She was just fine with that.

* * *

The next morning they packed up and set out. It had begun snowing again in the night, a cold snap, and Wilson decided they should start heading back just in case it got worse.

Allena had no objections. Her entire right side of her body was in agony from the battle with the rook, the back of her head still felt tender, she was covered in bruises from Maxwell – and now one from Wilson, which Wes mimed blushing at when he saw it before she could cover it up – and was looking forward to getting home and enjoying some rest and thermotherapy.

 _What I wouldn't give for a hot bath,_ she thought as she eyed her backpack miserably. Her shoulders hurt.

Well, nothing for it. She brushed it off and picked it up. But when she tried slinging it over her shoulders, Wes appeared out of nowhere and grabbed one of the straps. "Hu—oh, hey Wes. What's up?"

He tugged on it insistently, pointing at his own shoulders and flexing. He wanted to carry her pack for her.

She paused, but relented. Her shoulders really hurt, and he had nothing to carry aside from a small bag he'd dug out of a hidden cabinet earlier. "Okay, thanks Wes."

He smiled and strapped the backpack on, ready for a trek.

"Let me know if it gets heavy. We can swap off."

Wes rolled his eyes and flexed again. She smiled and strapped on her spear. As an afterthought she also strapped a boomerang to her side; there was a convenient little holster for them among the other weapons in the cache, and it fit her perfectly. They were bringing a few of the weapons back with them, including the tentacle spike, but there hadn't been much else in the base to bother with.

They started back on their trek. On their way out they had meandered widely in order to get a good lay of the land, but they decided to return as the crow flies – straight back to base.

As they reached the edge of the forest Allena eyed the small black pouch now bouncing against Wes' thigh, the one he'd pulled out earlier. It was high-quality black leather, and didn't look like it had been made with the rough materials of the Constant. "Hey, Wes, what's in that bag of yours? It looks like it's from the real world."

Wes' face lit up and he reached into it. She caught a glimpse of something small and blue in his hand as he brought it to his face. Then he started blowing.

Wilson was staring at him curiously, an expression which turned to bafflement as something long and blue blossomed from Wes' hand.

She laughed. "You have a bag of balloons?"

He nodded as he blew. It was one of the long, skinny ones, the kind used to make balloon animals, and sure enough he tied it off and started twisting it up. She could just barely hear the high pitch of the squeaking, and a few moments later he held out what was unmistakably a beefalo to her.

She took it, examining it with delight. "That's awesome, Wes! Thanks!"

Wilson poked her, then held out his hand. He wanted to examine it.

She handed it to him, but as she did he fumbled his grip and the balloon bounced out of his hand…and started drifting away into the sky.

They all three stopped and stared as the little blue beefalo floated away, cheerfully defying the laws of physics. Wilson leaned forward to look past her and frowned at Wes. She turned to look at him, as well. "Um. Do you breathe helium?"

Wes shrugged. He didn't seem surprised, so clearly this had happened before, but…yeah, balloons didn't normally float unless inflated with something lighter than the air around it. Namely, not lung-air.

She looked at Wilson. "Any scientific explanation?"

He pulled out his notepad and smartly jotted something down, handing it to her.

_Magic?_

"Thanks, Wilson."

He elaborated. _Perhaps balloons simply float in this world. If Maxwell feels that balloons were made to float..._

He gestured towards the sky, where the blue beefalo was now a blue pinpoint of color in the sky above. "Gotcha," she said, slightly uneasy. Looked like Maxwell wasn't bound by the laws of physics.

As the balloon drifted out of sight, they kept walking.

An hour later, as they were making their way across the desert-to-be, they spotted something she and Wilson had missed on their way in, as it had been hidden by a tall, rocky outcropping and they had swerved around it during their first pass. It seemed to be an oasis of sorts, butting up against the rocky outcrop, which would no doubt provide lovely shade in the summer. It was void of the snow that dusted the rest of the ground.

Wilson pointed at it. "Good place for a short rest?" Allena suggested.

Wilson nodded. The three took off towards it.

It was a small grove of birch nut trees around a pond in a grassy clearing. Despite the fact that all the other water sources they'd found had been frozen, this one was not. Allen walked over – then paused as a fairly gruesome sight met her eyes.

"Uh, Wilson?" She pointed.

There was a skeleton laying in the grass beside the pond. There were fish bones littering the grass around it, and further inspection revealed that its leg was broken.

Wilson came over and inspected it. He wrote down, _Broken leg, likely died of that. No signs of a struggle. I doubt there's anything dangerous here._

And with that he began picking through the scraps of cloth dangling to the skeleton's frame for goods, as well as checking the grass around him.

Allena watched this with distaste. She couldn't help but imagine how awful it must have been, dying with a broken leg, alone, a world away from home.

She didn't like the idea of leaving without doing something about it, so she started looking around to see it there was anything she could use.

There were clumps of tall grass all around the oasis, and she started cutting these and placing them in a large pile. There was a small depression in the earth beside the rocky overhand that lined one edge of the oasis, and she piled the grass next to that.

Wilson and Wes were both sitting down, the prior having found nothing of interest on the corpse and the latter wanting to wash up in the pond. She walked past them to the skeleton, grabbed it by its shoulders, and dragged it over to the natural depression.

They both looked at her in mild alarm. Wilson cocked his head at her. She ignored him, dropping the skeleton in the dip. She didn't have the time or strength to dig a proper grave, so it would have to do.

She covered the skeleton in the grass she'd just cut. There was more than enough to fill the shallow indentation in the ground. That done she smoothed her hand over a patch of rock from the overhang, pulled out a dull flint knife, and scratched R.I.P into the stone. That done she broke some small branches off the birch trees, used a spare rope from Wilson's pack to tie them into a cross, and laid this on the grass.

Wes and Wilson both sat beside the pond munching on jerky as she did all of this. Wilson looked mildly uncomfortable.

She sat beside the makeshift grave in vigil.

Perhaps ten minutes later she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Wilson nodding his head in the direction of home. _Time to go._

She nodded and stood up. He passed her a note.

_There are a lot of those in this world. We don't have time to bury them all._

She nodded. "I know. But I had time to bury that one. If you died here, alone and in pain, wouldn't you want someone to at least acknowledge that at some point?"

He looked down at the grave, face twisted up into an odd expression. Finally, he sighed and nodded, writing out another note. _This world doesn't seem to care much for humanity. I doubt the grave will go undisturbed._

She shrugged. "It does or it doesn't. At least he got one."

As they made to leave the camp, Wilson uncapping his canteen to refill it at the pond, he stepped on something and jumped. Allena rushed over, worried that he had trodden on a thorn on some sort of venomous critter, but he was already kneeling beside whatever it was.

Turned out he hadn't stepped on something; he'd spotted something and hadn't want to step on it. A track.

"Koalefant?" She asked.

Wilson nodded excitedly. Then he looked around, frowned, and pulled out his notepad.

_I think it's old, but I'd like to be sure. You and Wes stay here while I do some tracking. Watch my things!_

And he slung his pack off, explained the situation to Wes, and took off at a jog in the direction the tracks were heading.

She watched him go for a bit, stopping every few dozen yards to inspect another track on the ground, until he disappeared over a rise. There was a tall hill in the distance, and she suspected that if he couldn't spot the beast from the top of that then he would likely give up.

Wes watched Wilson with her for a moment, then turned to her, pointed at the track, and tilted his head in confusion.

"Never seen a koalefant before?"

He shook his head. She smiled ruefully. "Well, they're traveling mammals, solitary, and they pass through from time to time. Wilson always hunts them. They're massive, very meaty, but they're just about the cutest things in the world. They have great big ears, long trunks, short, stubby legs, and itty-bitty little horns and tusks. I saw one once, but that was pretty much the second worst experience I've had here in the Constant."

Wes looked curious. He mimed a rearing motion, then swung his arm around like a trunk, and tilted his head questioningly.

"No," she explained. "Wilson says they can be dangerous if you aren't careful, but we didn't actually fight this one. You see, turned out we weren't the only ones hunting it."

Wes, who could obviously recognize the makings of a good story when he heard it, sat down to listen.

Pleased to have an audience to regale, she went into it full tilt; how the Varg took down the koalefant like a lamed deer, how it recognized her scent from their first encounter – that was a short digression – how they'd realized they wouldn't make it and turned to fight, and how she'd told Wilson to hold it off while she set the traps.

Wanting to do Wilson's part justice, she pulled her spear off her back and held it out in front of her. "You should have seen him, holding his ground against that thing. It was five times his size!"

She put on her best dog impression, growling and snarling and thrusting the spear out in imitation of Wilson's fight.

Wes was on the edge of his seat, expression trepid, then his eyes widened in alarm.

Man, he was a good audience. "Yeah! You wouldn't believe it, but that's not the worst of it," she said as she prepared to recount Chester's heroic death, something she still couldn't think of without a pang of grief.

He thrust a finger out as though pointing at something. She wondered what exactly he—

A pair of very large, very strong hands suddenly clamped down on her shoulders.

Total panic gripped her, and she went rigid. The hands turned her around slowly, and she looked up.

One of the hands took the spear, plucked it calmly out of her hand, and hurtled it into a birch tree. It sunk about four inches into the wood.

_Gulp._

The figure grabbed her shoulders again, hands tightened like vice grips, and he lifted her off the ground to eye-level. Which for him was very nearly seven feet.

The man must have approached the oasis from the rocky-overhang side, otherwise they would have seen him coming. He was very tall, very muscular, and had neatly parted black hair and a huge, curly mustache that had grown a bit bushy in the absence of grooming supplies.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh," she said.

His mouth moved. He was talking to her.

Then Wes sprung up between them and started motioning for the man to calm down, or to let her down, and the man obliged, lowering her gently to the ground. He crossed his arms and glowered down at her.

Wes flung his arms around the man's waist in a big hug, and Allena realized who it must have been. "Oh! Are you, um…Wes's friend?" She asked him, still a bit shaken by his intimidating stature. Man, when Wes had mimed how much bigger and scarier than Wilson this guy was, he hadn't been kidding. This guy was a tank.

He nodded and said something, and Wes immediately let go and mimed opening a book and reading it out loud.

Oh! Of course; he'd seen her standing over Wes with her spear out, snarling like the Varg and jabbing the air. He must have assumed she was attacking him.

She jumped in to the explanation. "Sorry! Sorry about that, I wasn't attacking him, I was telling him a story. There was monster in it. I was, uh…miming it out for him."

The man tilted his head down and raised an eyebrow at her.

"With props." She added, grinning sheepishly.

The man took a deep breath and seemed to release his tension on the exhale. Then he said something else to her.

"Oh, sorry, I can't hear anything. I'm deaf."

The man's eyes popped open beneath his bushy eyebrows, and he smacked his head and said something else.

She looked to Wes for translation. He was laughing. Or rather, miming a laugh. He held up one finger, then made a slashing, 'no' gesture, then held up two.

One, not two.

_Oh, not another one!_

She winced. "Yeah, sorry," she said, pitying the poor man who had run into two moderately disabled people in the wilderness. "But if it's any consolation, my friend Wilson will be back pretty soon. He was tracking a koalefant, but I think it may have gone too far. And he's not deaf. Or mute. Or blind or anything else for that matter." She turned back to see Wilson descending the dune in the distance. "Oh, yup, see? There he is, he's coming back."

Wilson got to the bottom of the dune and started walking back to them, but when he looked up and saw the man standing beside them he drew his spear and broke into a dead sprint.

Uh, oh. Looked like he was worried. She looked up to see the man narrowing his eyes at Wilson's approaching figure, and he crossed his arms.

She didn't want a fight breaking out, so as Wilson drew near she waved her arms and yelled, "It's okay, Wilson! He's fine! This is Wes's friend!"

Wilson lowered the spear and slowed to a fast walk as he entered the oasis, but was still looking at the tall man with some distrust. Still, as he got within a few feet he cautiously drove the spear into the ground and stopped.

The two shared a few words, then Wilson pulled out his writing pad and wrote her a note.

_He says his name is Wolfgang, and he wants to know how we came across his friend. Shall I relate the story to him?_

She nodded. "Yeah, that would probably be best."

She turned to Wolfgang to introduce herself first. "I'm Allena Jones, by the way. Please to meet you."

He extended his hand for a handshake, and as he did she noticed something she hadn't before.

She reached past his hand to inspect his arm. It had a long, nasty-looking gash along the side, and it seemed to have been covered up with nothing more than some scraps of cloth. "Oh, man, that looks bad. Hold on, we have a first aid kit. Sit down, Wilson will tell you the story while I fix up your arm."

He looked rather taken aback, but nodded warily and allowed her to lead him over to the oasis pond. He sat down next to it, Wilson followed suit, and soon he was diving into the story as she pulled out some medical supplies.

Ugh. The wound looked to be a bit old, and was red and puffy. Probably the beginnings of an infection. This would need to be cleaned. "Wilson, I'm going to want to boil some water for this," she said. He nodded, paused the story, hopped up, grabbed an axe, and quickly lopped up the smallest tree in the grove for her. Perfect for a quick fire. "Thanks," she said, and he resumed the tale. Presumably.

She started the blaze going and filled her camp pan with oasis water. The man seemed very invested in Wilson's story, and kept interrupting to ask questions. Wilson seemed agitated by this, as he was the type to get very involved in his tales, but always paused to answer them. She suspected his tones were clipped, though.

Once the water was boiling she started cleaning the wound. "I'm sorry, this is going to hurt."

The man looked at the wound disdainfully and sniffed, as though such a paltry thing as a foot-long, infected gash was beneath his notice. Indeed, even when she had to dig flecks of dirt and grass and cloth fibers out of the red, puffy flesh, he didn't even flinch. This guy was tough.

She cleaned the wound, disinfected it, and wrapped it tightly in some of their good gauze. That was a nasty injury, and it needed the extra care.

That done she washed the camp pan out and used the rest of the fire to boil up some more hot water. She added some of their tea-flower petals and brewed him up a cup of tea.

As Wilson seemed to finish the story she held the tea out to Wolfgang. He looked at it with a raised eyebrow and drew back a bit, as though wary. She said, "It's tea, and it has healing properties. It's great stuff, very healthy. Ask Wes."

He looked over at Wes, who nodded encouragingly, and with a grimace the man took the cup, threw it back, draining it in one gulp. He didn't seem to like the taste, swallowing it like cough-syrup.

That done he said something else to Wilson and stood up, examining his arm. He looked impressed.

He held out his hand again, and this time she went for the handshake. Instead, however, he gently gripped her palm and bent at the waist to deliver a kiss to the back of her hand.

Wow. Surprisingly gentlemanly. She giggled and said, "Happy to help."

Wolfgang turned back to Wilson, gripped his hand and pumped it a few times, said something else and jerked a thumb at her.

Wilson shook his hand out and wrote down, _He says he's in our debt for freeing Wes, and thanks you kindly for treating his wound._

He bowed once more at the waist, spine rigid. Then he said something to Wilson, who wrote down, _He wants to know if he might accompany us wherever we're going._

She looked up at him, surprised. He would certainly be a serious asset to them, given his strength. "I don't see why not. What do you think, Wilson?"

Wilson seemed to consider the question, crossing his arms and rolling his head a bit on his shoulders as though rolling the idea around in his skull. Then he nodded and spoke to Wolfgang, who nodded sharply and turned to Wes, saying something else.

Wes leapt into the air in a cheer, and Allena couldn't help but smile as well. Their party had doubled in a single expedition.

As they picked up their things and got ready to depart, Allena recalled one very important thing. "Oh, Wolfgang, I need to ask you a question."

He turned to her, fully at attention, and nodded.

"Those chairs you made were just beautiful. Do you think you could make some for our base?"

He looked surprised, then his face erupted into a wide, toothy grin for about a millisecond before returning to its normal, brooding expression. He nodded and gave her a big thumbs up.

As they packed up their things and readied to depart, Allena looked around the oasis. A lovely, grassy glade in the middle of a desert.

As she looked at her own party getting ready to head back to their safe stone base, she was beset with a sense of rightness – whatever this world had to offer them, they were better off facing it together. Strength in numbers.

She looked over at the grave she had made. Even an oasis was no guarantee of safety. No doubt Maxwell would be upset. He'd probably want to send some new, horrible monster after them to break their party up. Maybe kill them.

Wes ran up and held something out – a new balloon, this one in the shape of a pig.

She took it and smiled. Maybe they would all die here. But if that was their future, there was nothing for it. At least they wouldn't die alone.

A gentle breeze ruffled the grass of the makeshift grave, and she turned to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's my birthday! In the spirit of celebration, here are a few new chapters :D
> 
> Hope everyone's enjoying the story. I saw I got a few more kudos! I'm pretty happy ^_^ Who knows, maybe I'll get a review for my birthday?  
> Heh. Naaaaaaaaaaaaaah!


	25. Home Again

They made it to the edge of the Deerclops Forest before nightfall.

That's what they'd decided to name it, the birch forest in which they'd killed the Deerclops. There were getting to be enough plains and forests that they'd taken to naming them. They'd had to vote on this one; Allena had wanted to call it Webber's Wood, but Wilson had suggested Deerclops Forest and Wolfgang had agreed under the reasoning that it sounded more tough and manly. Wes had voted against Webber's Wood when she'd told him who Webber was under the reasoning that spiders scared him.

The Tallwood was the forest that surrounded the tallfort, and the Pigwood was the birch forest with the pigs, the one Allena had never been to. The northern forest beside their base was simply called the Northwood, and one immediately to their south, which contained the newly named Living Glade, was the Vargwood. They named the clearing in which she and Wilson had stood against the Varg Chester's Clearing, in honor of their departed companion. The Thornwood was obvious, and Wilson marked out the Thornwood Base on the map.

Now they hunkered down just outside the Deerclops Forest, a stone's throw away from the Walrus Camp. They'd checked the meat to see that it was still packed in the quickly melting ice and had grabbed some choice cuts for dinner. Turned out Wolfgang, though he hadn't mentioned it earlier, had been having trouble finding food and hadn't eaten in several days, so he ended up eating a lot of meat, and was much more jovial after dinner as a result.

They'd all spent a couple of hours in the early evening chatting, and though Allena had put on a big smile and pitched in from time to time, she was feeling fairly miserable by the time they went to bed. Going by the expressions of enjoyment on Wes and Wilson's faces, Wolfgang was a very gifted storyteller. He'd even made Wilson laugh a few times. That was a sound she sorely missed.

She hated being deaf.

She'd been getting used to it for a while, but with only Wilson around she hadn't really missed out on anything because everything he had to say he wrote down to her. Now there were conversations flying by her head faster than Wilson could write, and it was depressing not being able to join in.

The camp had gone to bed and the fire flickered brightly in the shallow dip they'd dug for it. She lay curled up against Wilson's chest, but though he had fallen asleep some ten minutes ago she was having trouble doing the same. It wasn't often she encountered a sleepless night, especially after long, strenuous hikes, but it was no use. She was wide awake.

The moon was full, and it cast a surprising amount of light. It was almost as bright as day.

She tried to sleep for a while longer but eventually gave up. Maybe it was the moonlight, maybe it was the soreness pervading her entire body, or maybe it was the emotional drain of what was finally weighing on her as a serious disability. Maybe it was all three. At any rate, she finally wriggled carefully out from under Wilson's arm, which had been draped over her waist, and stood up.

Wilson hadn't woken. Wes, too, was asleep, curled up with his hands under his head like a small child. Wolfgang slept rigidly in his own sleeping bag, as though lying in a military bunk, and she saw with some amusement that his mustache was fluttering with his long, deep breaths.

Wilson shifted a bit in his sleep, then rolled over and lay still.

She pulled her flashlight out, though she didn't turn it on. She didn't want to risk anything happening, not after Maxwell, but she suspected she wouldn't need a light tonight. She didn't sense the malevolence of the shadow out there and it was more than bright enough for her to make her way without her flashlight. Still, she kept it handy, and strapped her spear to her back, too.

She decided on a short stroll through the woods. She'd always enjoyed night walks because it was such a treat to get to see familiar things from a whole new perspective. Moonlight made even the most mundane sights look new and different.

The forest was lovely in the soft blue light of the full moon. Small blue mushrooms had popped up in the sun's absence, and she picked one and dropped it in her pouch to bring back to Wilson. He'd told her about green and red, but never blue.

Also present were fireflies, which she'd only ever seen from a distance and could now walk up to and examine at leisure. They winked on and off in slow patterns, their glow diffusing as they took notice of her and dissipated.

Just as she was about to turn around and return to camp – Wilson would panic if he woke up to find her missing, he'd already told her he couldn't sleep well without her nearby anymore – she found herself near a familiar landmark.

A glade of trees toppled in a circular pattern spread out before her, all surrounding the strange statue she'd come upon her first night in the forest. She was actually amazed to see it still standing – she'd seen the Deerclops stomp around it but had wondered whether it had actually let the statue be.

Curious as to what had rendered the statue immune to the Deerclops' wrath, she decided to inspect it more closely. She hopped over the fallen trees, walked up to the statue—

And froze.

A form drifted out from behind it.

It was the thing the statue depicted. It hovered before her at eye-level, round and insectoid with soft-looking blue fur, lighter on its head and darker on its body. Eight orangish legs dangled from it, and its shiny black eyes gazed at her benignly. She was immediately instilled with a sense of peace.

She made to walk up to it, pausing momentarily as it stared at her. It wouldn't do to be careless…

Still, she could help but approach it. It hovered there, docile, and very slowly she stepped forward. When it didn't react, she reached out and touched it.

Its fur was soft. Or hair. Hard to tell sometimes, and she didn't really know the difference between fur and hair anyways. At any rate, the creature was warm and fuzzy, and vibrated slightly when she it felt her fingers stroke its side. Its tiny little wings were moving furiously with the effort of keeping it airborne, but it didn't seem to be exerting itself. Still, she couldn't for the life of her imagine how those wings were keeping it up. Magic, she supposed.

Was this another of Maxwell's creations?

It couldn't possibly be. It was too cute, too harmless, too...innocent.

She held out her arms to see if it wanted to take a rest. It was about the size of a corgi, so she could probably hold it up it she tried.

It looked at her and floated over to her, but didn't settle on her arms. Instead it rose up a couple of feet, positioning itself over her head.

She cringed away slightly as it started to vibrate again. What was it—

_GWOOOOOOOOSH!_

She gasped and clamped her mouth and eyes closed as a flood of slimy pink goop cascaded out of the creature in a massive, high-pressure rush. There was no way this thing wasn't magical – it probably doused her with several times as much goop as its body could possibly have held.

She made a sound of intense discomfort and stumbled blindly away from it. She wiped her eyes and nose clear, inhaling slightly. The goop smelled sickly sweet.

She blew out through her mouth and tried to clean it off without getting any in, but a big drop fell on her tongue and it tasted like…

…strawberry shortcake ice-cream?

Yeah, it tasted like strawberry shortcake ice-cream. The kind she'd always gotten from the ice-cream truck as a kid. She'd just been doused by a magical flying peace-bug that pooped strawberry shortcake ice-cream.

Although she had to admit the goop tasted divine, she cleared the rest off without trying any more. A fair amount had also leaked into her ears and she stuck her fingers in to try and dig it out—

_POP! POP!_

Her ears popped, and she winced. She twisted her fingers a few times to try and clear them out, and when she pulled them out...

Her eyes widened.

She blinked.

She could hear again.

She tapped her ears slightly to be sure it wasn't a fluke, but no. Crickets were chirping all around her in the grass of the glade, snowbirds were twittering softly in the trees, and a gentle breeze ruffled the carpet of dead leaves all around her.

She turned around to see the creature had lowered back down to eye-level and was staring at her, eyes twinkling in the light of the full moon. What was this thing?

Whatever it was, it had just given her back her hearing. Actually, now that she noticed it, the goop had seeped into just about everything and all of her aches and pains were gone as well. She brushed the goo off of the scrapes on her arms, the ones that were too small to warrant bandages, and saw that they were mostly healed.

The goop glimmered faintly in the moonlight, gel-like and quivery. She held it up and looked at it wonderingly.

She smiled at the creature, walked over, and scratched it at its head joint. It vibrated, seemingly content.

"Thanks, little guy," she said as it hummed mellowly.

She considered it for a few minutes, then said, "What's your name, huh? Something as cool as you has to have a name."

She stepped away and looked the statue over for a hint, but there was nothing.

No, wait, not nothing. One thing was different about the statue. At the base of it, a flower had grown. It was hard to tell what color it was in the moonlight, so she shone her flashlight on it.

Red, with little white dots all over it. She reached under its petals to inspect it, but found that the flower wasn't attached to the stone. It was almost as if it had just sprung into being without a stalk or seed of any sort. It looked like something that might grow on a thick vine in a tropical rainforest.

She picked it up and heard the creature vibrate. It buzzed up to the flower and stuck its face into it. It seemed to like it.

She smiled and petted the thing again. "Well, I guess I'll ask around, see if you don't have a name. But in the meantime, how about I call you…uhhh…Glammer? No. Gloomp? Nah…hmmm…how about…Glommer?"

It thrummed and let out a sucking sound, presumably drinking from the flower. She laughed quietly. "Glommer it is. Want to come back with us, buddy?"

She recalled the way Chester had followed his eyebone around. Maybe Glommer would follow the flower?

She waited for him to finish drinking from it, then held it up and started walking away.

It followed. Cool. They had a new friend.

She vowed to do whatever it took to keep the flower healthy, though she wasn't sure how she could, given that it had no roots or leaves. Maybe it was like Chester – it didn't need anything.

She sighed. She missed her chest-dog.

She made her way back to camp and Glommer drifted along behind her like a balloon. It had no trouble keeping up with her, though she wondered how it would fare if she ended up having to run from something.

As she walked, she heard a rustling in the bushes off to her right and with a shot of alarm hoped she wasn't about to put Glommer's wings to the test.

It quickly became clear that she wouldn't. A familiar black face popped out of the bushes, grinning cheerfully when it saw her. "Allena!" Then he pouted and said, "Oh, friend cannot hear us. Webber remembers. Sad, sad."

She smiled and said, "Actually, Webber, I can now."

Webber clicked his teeth excitedly, pout dropping off his face. "Oh? Can hear again? Good! We are glad! But how?"

She pointed at her new friend and Webber, oddly enough, hissed and ducked back into the bushes as Glommer dipped slightly in the air.

"Bad thing!" He said, legs twitching in agitation.

Bad thing? "Huh? Do you know what this thing is? Because it healed all of my injuries and fixed my hearing. It seems nice to me."

"Yes, yes, too nice," Webber whined, coming out only reluctantly and wringing his hands. "We know that thing. Only comes when moon is full. Once, years ago, we saw someone in wood, other person, jab at it with stick to kill it. Thing buzzed very loudly, fell down, but before person could kill it a big, scary other thing came out of woods! Tall and red, curly horns, long tail, stampy hooves. Big sack on back, glowey white eyes! It knocked person down, grabbed his backpack and stuffed it in his own sack, then laughed and hopped away!"

Allena raised an eyebrow. "It stole his stuff, but it didn't attack him? That doesn't sound too bad."

"Person couldn't get up, very dazed, so Webber's friends went to eat him. Gobbled him right up," he said conversationally. He nodded contentedly and continued. "But when they wrapped up blue thing in web to eat, much hissing from home! Big red meanie went to spider nests, stole much webbing and meats and many of Webber's things! Big red meanie took Webber's picture of…"

He trailed off, looking sad, then hissed again. _"Tssss!_ Never mind. Is not important. But big red meanie shows up when little blue thingy is sad, so now we call it _Tsachassachassachht_ – Caller of the Red One. We does not touch it."

She turned and looked at the creature. Did this thing have some crazy, secret bodyguard?

"Has it happened more than once?"

Webber shook his head. "No, just one time. Scary, though."

Allena shrugged dismissively. "It was probably just a coincidence. Besides, nothing has happened to me."

Webber stared at Glommer, who sat there buzzing softly. Slowly Webber walked over to him, reached out an arm, and poked him gingerly.

Glommer didn't react, and nothing happened.

Webber tilted his head, then scratched Glommer on the neck like she had. He vibrated a bit, but nothing more.

Webbed seemed satisfied. "Okee, maybe blue bug is not so bad. Still, Webber will not hurt it. Does not want to take chances."

Allena nodded. "Good idea. Besides, how could anyone want to hurt this lil' guy? He's sooooo cute!"

Webber nodded. "Yes, very cute. Also fat and tasty-looking. Allena smells sweet, by the way."

She laughed nervously at the sudden change in topic. She was fairly sure Webber wouldn't try to eat her again, but the memory still lingered. "It's this guy's fault. He sprayed me with goop. See?"

She swiped some off of her arm and held a handful out to Webber. Webber leaned forward, sniffed, then with a lunge enveloped her hand in his mouth.

She refrained from jerking her hand back and screaming, but only barely. His fangs didn't clamp down, she just felt his tongue sliding all over the appendage, in and out of her fingers, and it felt…pretty horrible.

"Ugh. Ugh. Webber, could you not, please?"

He let go of her hand, which was now coated in spider saliva, and trilled happily. "Tastes like pink ice-cream!"

She shook her hand off furiously and wiped it on the leaves underfoot. "Ugh. Yeah, it tastes good. Let me know if you get sick."

"Okee. Is Wilson with Allena? Where, where?"

Oh, man. She could only imagine how Wolfgang and Wes would react if Webber popped out of the bushes in the middle of the night to introduce himself, and decided to try and prevent that. "Yeah, Wilson is with me. We have a camp nearby, but we have two new friends, and I doubt they'd be happy to wake up to late to greet you. But if you come by at dawn, I'll be happy to introduce you."

Webber trilled happily again. "Yay! New friends! Webber will come back and see Allena tomorrow, meet new friends. For now, we will go back to walking. We miss night, and can only go out when moon is full now."

She hugged him goodbye. "Alright, Webber. See you tomorrow, and I'm sorry again about the whole Maxwell thing. He's still leaving you alone, right?"

Webber nodded. "Yes, no more Maxwell. Goodbye!"

And he dashed off into the bushes.

She was glad that Maxwell wasn't giving Webber any trouble, but didn't have any more time to dwell on his plight. Realizing that she'd been gone a lot longer than she'd intended, Allena dashed back to camp, hoping Wilson wasn't awake.

She reached the camp just a few minutes later to find that everyone was still, thankfully, asleep. As she walked back into the bright light of the fire she looked down at herself and realized that she wasn't going to be crawling back into bed with Wilson tonight; as nice as Glommer's goop was, she got the distinct feeling her beau wouldn't care for it getting all over their blankets. And pillow. And his vest.

He was tossing fitfully. She stocked up the fire, sat down beside him, and took his hand. He stilled at once.

She found a few tall tufts of grass and made herself a makeshift pillow with them. Then, with Glommer buzzing softly above her – and slightly to the side so he wouldn't goop on her again in the night – she laid down by the fire to sleep.

* * *

She woke up to Wilson screeching, "Ack! _What is that?!"_

Uh oh. That wasn't good. Her head popped up off the grass and she jumped up between Glommer and Wilson before anything bad could happen. He was already reaching for his spear while Glommer hovered where she'd left him, totally unperturbed. "Wilson! Hey! Don't worry, he's nice!"

"Oh, no, not this ag—"

He sighed and pulled out his notepad, but Allena said, "No need for that, actually. I can hear again."

A deep, booming voice sounded beside her and she jumped. "Little Allena can hear again? This is good! Can hear Wolfgang's mighty voice, now!"

Their huge new friend was standing up and stretching. "Wow," she said as he rolled up his sleeping bag. "That _is_ a mighty voice. Pleased to finally be able to hear it."

Wolfgang opened his mouth to reply, but Wilson interrupted. "What? You can hear again? How?"

She stepped back and pointed to Glommer, who was still buzzing calmly where he'd been when she'd fallen asleep.

Wilson's mouth dropped open. Then he closed it and said in a pained voice, "What is that thing? And _why_ do you keep bringing odd creatures to me?"

She brought her hands up to scratch Glommer just beneath his wings. He hummed happily. "This is Glommer! He…uhhh…poops healing goo."

Wilson stared at her blankly for a long moment. Then he said, "Explain."

She told him about last night. His alarm at the new arrival quickly faded to cautious curiosity. "Alright, I suppose it seems…useful…and since it didn't kill us all in our sleep, it looks like it can be trusted…"

"So I can keep him?"

Wilson sighed. "Yes, I suppose so. But please make sure it doesn't mess in the base."

She smiled. Glommer had won him over faster than Chester!

Wes was inspected Glommer closely, hands on his hips. Wolfgang was looking at their new friend, too, but seemed reluctant to get too close. "Eh," he said. "Well, I suppose if it doesn't have any pointy claws or fangs…"

Still, he kept Glommer in his periphery as he began tidying up his camp supplies. The rest of them did the same. They took a half an hour to wrap of the rest of the meat from the walrus ice bank and pack it away in the backpack Wes of carrying – the jerky racks would be full tonight – and headed back to stamp out the remains of the fire before departing.

Just as Wilson finished dousing it, the bushes trembled and Allena recalled the invitation she had issued to their eight-legged friend. "Oh, Wilson, I ran into our other buddy last night. He wanted to come say hi. I told him to drop by so I could introduce him."

Wilson groaned. "Oh, goody."

Wes and Wolfgang both turned to the trembling bushes, and a moment later Webber's grinning face popped out.

"Hello! We are Webber. Allena says—"

What Allena said was not readily apparent, because upon Webber's appearance Wolfgang threw his hands up and started shrieking like a little girl.

Webber popped back down into the bushes. "Ack. Allena's friend does not like Webber."

Allena tried to calm Wolfgang down. She was forced to shout over his screeching. "Wolfgang, it's okay, this is Webber! He's nice, he helped us kill the Deerclops. Maybe we could tell you about it over breakfast?"

Wolfgang did not look particularly assuaged, but at least he stopped screaming. "Wolfgang does not like scary monster things!"

Allena pursed her lips and forced herself not to laugh. She'd have assumed that, of everyone present, the seven-foot-tall muscular giant would be the most indifferent to the scarier denizens of the Constant. Evidently not.

She passed the walrus's jerky around, making sure to give Wolfgang an extra comfort-helping, and invited Webber to walk next to her as they started their hike. She handed him a piece of jerky as well. He chewed on this contentedly as she relayed the story. Wilson pitched in from time to time, and Wolfgang remained silent for the tale, shooting Webber a disturbed glance when she got to the part about him leaping on the Deerclops and biting its arm.

"Yes," he said with a powerful shudder. "No doubt scary little monster-boy fangs cause Deerclop much discomfort."

Webber accepted this as a compliment. "Yes! Webber has good, strong teeth. Brushes them every night, just like mama taught us."

That statement surprised her a bit. She hadn't been sure if Webber remembered his parents. He said he'd been very small when he'd come to the Constant. Deciding to ask him more about it later, Allena continued the story.

At the end of it, when she described Maxwell's attack on Webber, Wolfgang seemed surprised. "Maxwell attacked you, you say? Hmph. Maybe you are not so bad, after all."

Webber nodded enthusiastically. "No! We are not bad! We are very good. Have not tried to eat anyone since first time we met Allena!"

Wolfgang did not heed the implication of this statement, but Wes, who had been thoroughly enjoying the story, cocked his head and looked at her curiously. He pointed at Webber, mimed a biting motion, then pointed at her with a questioning look. _He tried to eat you the first time you met?_

Not wanting to freak Wolfgang out, she shrugged helplessly and nodded. Wes' eyes widened, so she quickly said, "Yeah, so like I said, Webber is a friend. He saved my life, I saved his, he doesn't want to eat any of us – we're all good! So, Wolfgang, think we can all be friends?"

Wolfgang reached up and stroked his mustache for a long moment. Then he nodded graciously and said, "Yes, Wolfgang can be friends with scary monster child. As saying goes, the enemy of the enemy is a friend."

Webber's legs twitched excitedly. "Yay! Webber has new friends!"

And he ran forward and wrapped Wolfgang in a hug.

The large man went rigid and winced horribly, but reached down and patted Webber gingerly on the head.

Webber detached and held out his arms to Wes. Wes looked at her, alarmed, and she nodded encouragingly. He didn't look happy about it, but he forced a smile on and held out his arms for a hug. Webber, of course, obliged.

Now Wolfgang asked, "So, what did you bring home for trophy? Antlers? Hoofs? Eyeball?"

Wilson shook his head. "No trophy. The deal was that we leave the remains for Webber and his…eh…family. And we had no intention of attempting to wrest a piece of that thing after the battle. While I would have loved the eyeball for my studies, it has no doubt been consumed by now."

Webber, who had just finished the last of his jerky, piped up. "Oh! No, no, no. Friends and I will not touch eyeball. It is too scary for us to eat. Does not look very tasty, either. And it does not go bad, just sits there staring at us. We do not want. You take away, maybe?"

Wilson's jaw dropped. "What? The eyeball is untouched, undecayed?"

Webber nodded. "Yes. We go see?"

Wilson's fingers started twitching. She knew what that meant. "Ah, maybe we could take a short detour." He asked with tones of forced casualness. "Besides, it would be good for our new friends to know the location of the spider stronghold, so they can avoid it properly."

Allena snorted in amusement. Yeah, that was _totally_ what he was interested in.

Wes looked worried about this, but nodded. Wolfgang, however, looked downright petrified. "Wolfgang would rather avoid spiders, thank you very much! Can use map to know where not to go."

Allena raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in response to this. Perhaps Wolfgang was arachnophobic, in which case she didn't want to tease him about it. "I think it wouldn't hurt to take a quick look. Wolfgang, you're welcome to wait while we drop in. You can look after Glommer." She turned to Wilson. "Let's pack up and go take a look at that eye."

She and Wilson walked side by side chatting while Wes and Wolfgang got to know Webber a bit better. They made their way to the spider stronghold, Webber happily leading the way.

When they got close, Allena set Glommer's flower on a tree stump, turned to Wolfgang, and said, "Okay, it's just over there. Why don't you go ahead and wait here? Glommer will keep you company. We'll come back for you once we're done."

She smiled cheerfully, and Wolfgang looked horribly conflicted. Perhaps he was struggling with the idea of letting a little girl walk into a spider stronghold to look at the corpse of a titanic monster she'd helped to slay while he stayed back because he was afraid of spiders. Or maybe he just really didn't like Glommer.

Whatever the case, Wolfgang seemed to change his mind at the last moment. They started towards the clearing but didn't get five feet away before he came after them. "Ah, Wolfgang does not like spiders," he rumbled as he jogged to her side. "But Wolfgang does not think that new friends should deal with them alone. Might need Wolfgang's mighty strength."

She nodded acceptance. "No doubt we will if things go sour. Thanks, Wolfgang."

He nodded back, but his eyes were already darting around nervously, as though he was worried that spiders may spring out of the undergrowth at any moment.

They neared the clearing to see that an enormous mound of webbing, eight feet tall at least, now covered the Deerclops so thoroughly that it was unidentifiable. A few of its limbs were missing. The only thing they could see of it when they carefully circled the corpse was that its face was largely uncovered. It had been stripped to the bone, and only the unseeing grey eye was untarnished.

The clearing, previously clear of nests, had been covered in patches of webbing. Small nests were nestled in the trees and along the bushes of the clearing, several massive bones from the Deerclops sticking out of them here and there, and even Allena couldn't suppress a shiver of trepidation. Wes's eyes were wide and fearful, and Wolfgang was visibly shaking.

Only Wilson seemed unperturbed, stepping daintily between patches of webbing on the ground as he approached the eye and examined it closely. He rubbed his chin, on which a small amount of stubble had sprung up over the course of their trip, and hummed to himself very quietly.

Webber stood watching, clearly oblivious to his companions' discomfort. He asked softly, "So? Does friend want? Is very big, but maybe you has something to carry it with?"

Allena nodded and replied, "We have a tarp that's big enough for it, but it would be too heavy. We'd have to drag it along the ground, and that would wake up your friends."

Webber nodded. "Yes, and mama long-legs. She does not like to be waken up. Not ever, not unless there is food."

"Who is this 'mama long-legs' you talk about, new friend?" Wolfgang asked, voice tight with barely hidden apprehension.

Webber grinned widely. "Mama long-legs is spider mama! Used to live in big crack in cliff, but now lives here."

"Here?" Allena asked nervously. "Uh, like, in this clearing?"

Webber nodded. Oh, great. Mama long-legs must have been living in the Deerclops corpse. She really didn't want to deal with one of those tiger-spiders. Assuming that's what he was referring to, of course.

Wilson continued to peer at the eyeball as they waited. The nests were silent and still, but that could change very quickly, and everyone knew it. Wolfgang was becoming more and more agitated as the minutes ticked by, and finally whispered harshly, "Wolfgang can carry eye! Just let us leave, yes?!"

Wilson looked at him in surprise. "Do you really think you could carry this by yourself? It's quite large."

Wolfgang grimaced. "Just give me tarp, I do!"

Allena raised an eyebrow. Wilson looked at her curiously. _Should we give it a try?_

She shrugged. _Why not?_

Wilson nodded to Wolfgang and pulled out their large sleeping tarp and several lengths of rope. "Very well. Let us give it a try. Allena, you said you already cut the eye loose, yes?"

"Yup."

"Very well. Let us commence, but be careful not to trod on the webbing."

They spent the next ten minutes very carefully prising the eye from its socket, insisting that Wolfgang leave that to them as he would likely damage it in his fervor to be out of there. It had been totally severed by Allena's attack and easily rotated and shifted in the socket, though it took a while to get it out.

They pulled it out to find webbing stuck to the back, and Allena realized with some concern that the nest extended all the way into the corpse, likely using the Deerclops' skeleton as a base for the massive super-nest. Gross.

As they pulled it from the socket and dropped it onto the tarp, the nest shuddered.

They all froze. Even Webber looked a bit trepid. "Uh, oh. Mama long-legs."

Allena swallowed. Looks like they'd woken her up. "Uh, maybe you could tell her to go back to sleep?"

The nest was still quivering, and Webber said, "Yes. You move eyeball. Webber will talk to mama. Uh…be very, very quiet, yes?"

They all silently agreed, and quickened the pace on wrapping up the eyeball. The thing was about three feet in diameter, and though it wasn't as heavy as they'd assumed it was still a serious package. As they tied it off and made some handholds for Wolfgang, Webber went over and started hissing quietly to the nest.

A moment later, a sound came out of it that chilled Allena – and likely everyone else – to the bone.

It was a deep, strangled hissing that caused the hair to go up on the back of her neck. It sounded big. That must have been one massive tiger-spider. Maybe as big as a small beefalo.

Webber seemed fairly calmed by whatever response he had just received, and replied in a soothing tone. _"Aaaatssacha tssach saaachtsaacha achatsssssssss."_  
Another loud, grating hiss emerged, and Allena saw that Wolfgang had obtained a pallid look and was gazing at the nest as though it contained the devil itself.

She walked over and, though frightened herself, tried to calm him down. She reached up and tilted his face away from the nest, giving him a reassuring look. She pointed to the handholds Wilson had just finished and mimed lifting the eye.

He gritted his teeth and nodded, stepping carefully over to it.

As he picked it up the grating hiss from the nest shrilled, and Allena saw that a small strand of webbing had gotten stuck to the tarp.

Wolfgang stopped, as did everyone else, with a horrified look.

Allena didn't.

She acted quickly. She pulled out a sharp knife, pinched the web quickly in her hand, cut it above her grip, then slowly lowered it to the ground and released it.

Webber was hissing quietly to the agitated voice in the nest, and as stillness pervaded the clearing again, the nest quieted.

After a couple minutes of low hissing, Webber gestured to them to start moving. Allena did so first, stepping in front of Wolfgang to help guide him through the ground webbing. The others followed, and finally Webber began stepping back from the massive nest. It was quivering, but stilled as their party moved away.

Finally, Wolfgang got the eye out of the clearing. Allena stepped aside to give him room to pass, and waited for everyone else to vacate the area. Once they were gone, she turned and crept silently away.

She quickly caught up with the others, who were all standing in an open clearing clutching their chests after the close call while Glommer buzzed serenely amongst them. "Well," she said as she picked up Glommer's flower again. "That was fun."

Wilson shook his head at her. "You, my dear, have a very skewed sense of fun. That said…"

He looked at the Deerclops eyeball, which Wolfgang had set down before them. It gazed dully towards the sky and Allena could just see Wilson's reflection in its pupil. "…I rather anticipate that the fruits of our labor will provide us with a good deal of fun. Oh, I cannot wait to get working on this!"

Allena could tell that his mind was already starting to wander to all the experiments he might like to perform on it, and she snapped her fingers in his face to draw his attention back to reality. "Hey, we've got to get it back to camp, first! Let's focus on that, okay?"

At this, Wolfgang stepped forward and said, "Wolfgang will carry. Is no problem for mighty man such as myself."

Wilson sighed. "No, no, it is quite a ways back to camp and it would be best not to strain your injury so excessively. Let us rig it up more securely, then we can take turns carrying it. Wes, shall you and I take the first mile or so?"

Wes, who had been inspecting the eye closely, hopped to attention and saluted.

They retied the eye into a more secure setup, and Allena took her backpack back from Wes. He tried protesting but she said, "Don't worry, I'll give it back to you when it's my turn to carry the eye."

She winked at him. He nodded and passed her the pack.

They made it to the edge of the Beefalo Plain, Allena taking a few sidesteps to pick grass wherever it was growing along the way. She figured the plain would be sprouting plenty of its own by then, but she wanted to be able to give her buddy a treat anyways, as well as point him out to Wolfgang to ensure the giant man would know not to hunt him. When they reached the edge of the plain, Webber, who had been following contentedly, stopped. "Webber has had much fun with new friends, but it is time to go now. We were up all night enjoying full moon, and we are very tired."

Wilson and Wes set the eye down, Wilson with a grunt of exertion and Wes with an exaggerated slump of exhaustion. Wilson said, "Very well. Enjoy your rest, Webber, and thank you for your assistance with the eye. I am most pleased with the acquisition."

Allena concurred. "Yeah, thanks Webber! You have a good sleep, okay?"

Webber nodded. Then he clicked his teeth, almost nervously, and dipped his head. "Okee. But Webber ask Allena something?"

"Yes?"

"Will you sing us lullaby? The one about the Pooh and Owl and Robin boy?"

Allena suppressed a blush. It had taken a while to get used to singing in front of Wilson, and now he was asking her to sing a childhood lullaby in front of two strangers, too?

Wes and Wolfgang were both watching her curiously, but she sighed and consented. Webber had certainly earned it. "Yeah, of course. Ahem…"

She cleared her throat, took a sip of water from her bottle, pointedly ignored the bulk of her audience, and sang him the song.

_"…So help me if you can, I've got to get_   
_Back to the house on Pooh Corner by one._   
_You'd be surprised, there's so much to be done…"_

Webber relaxed into the song much as he'd done the first time she'd sung it for him, arms going limp as he swayed on the spot. When she finished, he blinked rapidly, yawned, and said, "Oooh, prettiest of songs. This one is our new favorite. Even better than the Crooked Man, we think. Thank you."

He gave her a big hug, which she returned, adding a kiss on the forehead for good measure. He trilled happily and, with a final wave to the others, departed.

She watched his chipper black form vanish into the sparse wood, then turned around and met a fairly exasperating sight.

Wilson was turned away, covering his mouth and trying not to laugh. Wes had placed two hands under his head and was resting it on his shoulders, miming peaceful sleep. Wolfgang was just staring at her.

She felt her face color, and she groaned. "Ugh. Come on, let's go."

She slung her pack off and shoved it at Wes, who popped back awake with a wide grin and took it. Wilson said, "Ah, yes, certainly. Are you sure you can manage helping with the eye, though? Even to the end of the Beefalo Plain? It will be quite heavy, even with Wolfgang's help."

She was about to say 'yes, of course, don't be silly,' but Wolfgang interrupted.

"You have very pretty voice! Wolfgang will carry eye, you sing."

She frowned. "I'm sorry, come again?"

"Wolfgang likes pretty voice, but sing something more…uppity! Manly! Not lullaby!"

He wanted her to serenade him while he carried the eye? "To be honest, Wolfgang, I don't usually sing in front of people. I mean, I do for Webber, but…"

Wolfgang looked at her, and his expression turning suddenly serious. "Wolfgang has not heard music in long time." He pointed at Wes. "Has not heard other people in long time. Has not heard woman in very, _very_ long time. Is missing music, lovely voices. Sing."

She was taken aback. It hadn't occurred to her at the time, but given that Wes was a mute, hers may well have been the first voice Wolfgang had heard since coming to the Constant. And of course there was no music out here, no sounds outside the ones nature and Maxwell's monsters could produce. She supposed that if she had been subjected to silence for so long the idea of music could be somewhat appealing.

She sighed…but his appeal was too heartfelt to deny. "Okay. I guess I could sing a few songs. I doubt I'll know anything you're familiar with, though."

Wolfgang's face broke into a wide, unexpected smile. "Is fine! Wolfgang does not know many songs, and is always happy to hear new ones. Now," he said as he hoisted the Deerclops eye firmly onto his back. "Sing!"

Wes and Wilson both looked at her expectantly, equally eager for some entertainment, and she resisted the urge to smack them upside the head. Instead she racked her brains for a decent traveling song and quickly came up with a good one. If there was one song she could think of that would satisfy Wolfgang's desire for manly music, it was this one.

_"Some people say a man is made out of mud._   
_A poor man's made out of muscle and blood._   
_Muscle and blood and skin and bone_   
_With a mind that's weak and a back that's strong._

  
_You load sixteen tons, what do you get?_   
_Another day older and deeper in debt!_   
_Saint Peter, don't you call me 'cause I can't go;_   
_I owe my soul to the company store!"_

She knew she'd picked the right song almost at once. She could actually see the effect the tune was having on Wolfgang as she sang it. His spine straightened out, his chest puffed up just a bit, and he took on an almost military strut as he made his way across the plains under his heavy load. She could have sworn even his mustache puffed up.

She sang several more songs as they made their way across the plains – The Rising of the Moon, Whiskey in the Jar, Sweet Betsy from Pike – and paused on the edge when they came in sight of the beefalo herd. She pointed out the beefalo that had saved her from the walruses.

"That one's off limits, okay, Wolfgang?"

Wolfgang peered at it and wrinkled his nose, making his mustache wiggle. "Why is this one not to be eaten, you say?"

"It saved me from some walruses."

Wes' eyes widened and Wolfgang spat on the ground. "Walruses! Those filthy things! That is right, Wilson mentioned that camp with the meats was walrus camp. You met them too, then?"

Wilson set his pack down and started rooting around in it as she said, "Yeah. I was out here by myself a while back. I'd kind of hoped they'd be friendly. Ended up getting too close. Took a couple of darts to the arm and leg. I take it you're familiar?"

Wes nodded sadly, mimed a blow gun, and pointed at his arm. Indeed, now that she looked she could see a tiny hole in the sleeve. Wolfgang growled, "Cowardly things! Will shoot from afar, but run if you try to give them just desserts! Wolfgang killed one of their dogs in return for the many darts they shoot us with. Is good that you managed to get away. Where are walruses now?"

Wilson found what he was looking for and pulled out the tusk he'd hacked off one of their foes. Going by the size, it was from the big one. "They will not be bothering any of us anymore," he said gravely, holding the tusk up for everyone to see.

Wes examined the tusk with mild awe, and Wolfgang looked at him appraisingly. "So, you kill walrus peoples? Is impressive."

Wilson flipped the tusk in his hand and said, "After seeing what they did to her, it was readily apparent that they were too serious a threat to let be." He placed the tusk back in his pack.

At this Wolfgang grinned. "Ah! Man protecting his woman? This I can respect." He pointed at her and said, "It seems you have good man, Allena, but if you are looking for bigger, stronger one, Wolfgang is available."

With this he flexed, muscles bulging and rippling enough that Allena was worried he might reopen the wound on his arm. She laughed nervously and said, "Uh, thanks, Wolfgang, but I'm pretty happy with my choice."

She looked to Wilson to see him shooting a tired glare at Wolfgang, who was still flexing. He made a mildly disgusted noise, picked up his bags, and barked, "Come on, daylight is wasting!"

She laughed more heartily this time. Before they could start out again, however, Wes pointed at something behind them and Allena turned to see that she had been noticed. Her big beefalo had wandered over to her and was sniffing her. She smiled. "Hey, buddy. I have a treat for you."

She pulled out the grass she'd cut in the forest, offering it to him with a pat on the neck. He rumbled happily, quickly devouring the bundle.

Wilson and Wes took the eye back up, Allena holding on to the meat-pack and Glommer's flower. She walked slightly apart from the group so Glommer wouldn't bump into anyone. They continued the hike home, and much to Allena's mild discomfort everyone insisted that she keep singing while they took turns carrying the eye. This wasn't a problem for her given that she knew enough songs to fill several CDs, but she was really stretching for them by the time they reached the base.

Finally, they emerged from the Vargwood just as she finished The Battle of New Orleans. As the stone walls of the base came into view Wolfgang made a sound of clear appreciation. "That is your camp? Looks very nice. Am eager to see inside. We are invited, yes?"

Wilson nodded. "Yes, of course, though it will be a bit cramped. I would advise you to set up your own base this spring. To be frank, I don't want you two living with us indefinitely."

Allena winced at his bluntness. She hadn't given it much thought, and she supposed he had a point, though she wouldn't have been so up-front herself.

Wolfgang and Wes, however, seemed to regard this as a perfectly acceptable response. "This is fine. Wolfgang will spend tomorrow scouting out good place for new base. Maybe on other side of plain, give you two plenty of room for privacy. I know you Americans are used to big homes and much alone-time."

She blanched. Was he implying what she thought he was implying? Good heavens, she hoped not. In an attempt to hide her quickly rising blush, she said, "Oh, I never asked where you were from, Wolfgang. I assume one of the Slavic countries, going by the name and accent. Germany, maybe? Or Russia?"

Wilson was smirking at her rapid change in topic, and she shot him a rude look as Wolfgang responded. He nodded sharply. "Wolfgang hailed from the mighty Union of Soviet Socialist Republics! But…family got in bad standing with certain high-ranking officials. Had to move. We came to America. Mother and father set up shoe-shop with little sister, but Wolfgang joined circus. Was no good with cobbling little tiny shoes. Fingers too big and mighty, kept bending needles."

Allena's jaw dropped. "You were from the USSR? Wow. That's pretty crazy. What year did you…?"

They had just drawn close to the base, but everyone stopped upon hearing an odd shuffling coming from the other side of the wall. Wilson held up a hand.

He motioned for them to wait there. Allena's nerves went on end at once. Had their base been visited by hounds while they'd been away? Spiders, perhaps? Some other foul creation of Maxwell's? Or had another survivor happened upon their base? If so, friend or foe? And would Wilson be able to handle it?

Wolfgang set down the Deerclops eye and pulled out his spear, positioning himself in front of her and Wes. Wilson drew his own weapon and stalked silently towards the entrance as she looked on in trepidation.

As he rounded the corner out of sight, she heard a sharp gasp and more rustling. Then his voice came warbling over the wall, shaky and shocked. "Ah…Allena! You're going to want to see this!"

His tone was very strange, so much so that she couldn't tell if what waited for her in the camp was good or bad. Whatever it was, Wilson was calling to her, so she slipped around Wolfgang and dashed inside.

She came around the corner to see Wilson standing in front of their tent. He turned to her, smiling widely, and said, "Someone has been waiting for us to get back, it would seem."

And with that he tossed Chester's eyebone to her, white and wide and staring again, and a streak of orange flew out of the tent towards her.

Like Wilson, she gasped. Chester. _Chester was back._

Without a moment's thought she dropped to her knees and held her arms out, the same way she'd always done when she'd come back from a day away to greet her excited chest dog. And just the same as always, he flung himself into her arms, pawing at her with his little red appendages and barking loudly, tongue flapping wildly as he snuggled into her chest.

Her breath hitched in her throat several times like a car struggling to start before she finally managed a deep lungful. "Chester! Oh, Chester boy, are you okay? You came back to us. That big, mean, nasty Varg ripped you all apart but you came back. Oh, Chester, I missed you!"

She sniffed heavily and her eyes stung with tears. Chester's tongue flopped up and licked her face, clearing them, and she giggled tremulously, hugging him closer.  
She'd missed her chest dog.

Wilson knelt beside her and Chester hopped onto him, too. He scratched him between the horns and said, "Yes, it's good to see you, too. I remember what you did, you know. You're a very good boy. So," he said to her as Chester went wild at his praise. "It seems he came back to life. How, do you wonder?"

Allena thought about this, and something popped into her head that she'd never given much thought to. "You know, when I first found his eyebone in Vengebird's nest it was surrounded by clumps of orange fur, and the eye was red. I think maybe Vengebird killed him, and while he was dead the eye closed. But after a week or so, it opened, and Chester showed up a few hours later. Maybe he just…needs some time to rest whenever he gets hurt too badly?"

"Hurt? It sounds like that bird lined its nest with him, and I personally watched the Varg tear him in half. This is the most resilient creature I've ever been acquainted with."

"It sounds like you have doggie friend? Wolfgang likes dogs. Would love to – THAT IS NOT DOG!"

Chester barked excitedly as Wolfgang and Wes came into sight. Wolfgang backed up, quickly set the eyeball down, and held his spear close to him like it was a teddy bear. "What is weird orange thing?!"

Wes didn't seem nearly so perturbed, and walked up to the bouncing orange beast without any qualms, offering his hand in greeting. Chester assumed he was holding someone out for storage and popped his top, panting happily. Wes hopped back, then leaned forward curiously, peering inside Chester's empty belly.

Allena settled his top back down and said, "This is Chester! He's our chest dog. He helps us carry stuff around. Don't worry, Wolfgang, he's completely harmless. In fact, he's a little hero. Aren't you, boy? Are you a little hero?"

Chester barked again and started whirling around in circles. Then he stopped as his eyebone caught sight of their other companion.

Glommer had, of course, followed along with them and was now hovering just behind her. Chester walked over and tilted up curiously. Glommer looked down at him and dipped slightly in the air. Then Chester started hopping up and down, barking in greeting.

Allena took this as a sign that he was okay with their new companion – hopefully she wouldn't have to deal with any jealously issues – but then she yelped in alarm. Glommer, seeing Chester's reaction to him, responded in inverse, bouncing himself off the ground like a dodgeball while buzzing loudly.

"Gah!" She yelled as everyone around her just watched the exchange with varying degrees of befuddlement. "Uh, is that…I…Glommer! Are you okay?"

Glommer ignored her, and the two continued bouncing for several more moments. Then they both stopped abruptly. Glommer swayed in the air, a bit disoriented, then righted himself and kept hovering as though nothing had happened. Chester barked once more, ran in a tight circle around Glommer, and settled back down beside Allena.

She patted him on the head then went to Glommer and started looking him over. "That was weird. You okay, bud?" She gently examined his small orange legs for damage, then his underbelly, then his wings. He hummed happily all the while, and it soon became apparent that he had suffered no injury.

Wilson chuckled. "Well, it seems that our new pets will be getting along just fine. Perhaps that was simply their way of saying hello?"

Allena sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I wish Glommer could just, don't know, land instead of throwing himself violently against the ground. But whatever floats his bulbous boat, I guess…"

Wolfgang finally set his spear down and came over to inspect Chester. Chester saw him walking up and flipped his lid, causing Wolfgang to cringe away.

Huh. He was treating Chester with the same caution as he had both Glommer and the spiders. Maybe he had a problem with monstrous things in general?

She patted Chester's head-lid down and held out a hand to Wolfgang. "He's friendly. Really, he is. Here."

He still looked nervous, but he let her take his hand and lead it down to Chester. It trembled slightly as it got close to his row of tombstone teeth, but she settled it on his head between his horns and encouraged him to give the fur a good scratch.

With another shiver of revulsion, he did so. Chester rumbled contentedly, pushing up against his hand in a bid for more attention.

She let go and let Wolfgang pet Chester by himself, and within a minute he had relaxed as Chester continued to sit, cute and docile, not unlike your average well-trained golden retriever.

Finally Wolfgang's face broke out into a smile. "Hmph! Well, I suppose maybe it is dog after all. Just very round, strange, hollow dog. Is not bad. Named Chester, you say?"

"Yup. Otto von Chesterfield, esquire," she said, recalling Wilson's original name for him.

Wolfgang nodded, then gave Chester a mighty pat on the head. Chester bounced and barked. "Hah! Is nice to meet you, Otto von Chesterfield! You are good little creature, even if a bit strange."

With that he stood up and looked around. "Well, you have good base, good dog, and many odd contraptions. Color Wolfgang impressed."

Wes nodded fervent agreement.

Allena grinned. "And now we have good friends to add to the list. Wilson, why don't you show them around while I start on dinner? Think we can spare a couple of tallbird eggs?"

Wilson looked quite keen on showing off his inventions, and nodded imperiously. "Certainly. Now, perhaps you'll be interested in my alchemy engine…"

As Wilson began parading his scientific achievements, Allena started grabbing everything she needed for dinner. A warm glow sprung up in her even as it sprung up in the hearth, and with a deep breath she began settling back into the familiar groove of an evening in the Constant.

It was nice to be home.


	26. Spring

"OW! Mother—"

Allena swatted the bee that had just stung her off her arm and started sprinting for the tree line, spitting swears as a swarm of killer bees rose out of the hive she'd been stalking to pursue her. This had happened several times that morning, and several parts of her body were badly swollen, but the toil was just about over.

She'd been collecting worker bees for the last hour and now had more than a dozen, enough to start up a hive. Webber and Wes were helping her with this. Wes was keeping track of the bees she'd caught, constructing new bug nets for her with Webber's silk, and treating her stings whenever she sustained them. Webber was standing by to help her with the last and most dangerous part – the honeycomb extraction.

She lost the bees and came to a rest under the fresh, green canopy of the Deerclops forest. They were now a month into spring, and the world had come to life around them. Flowers were blooming like mad, the beefalo were calving, and birch nuts, though not yet ripe, could be seen sprouting from the green growth of the white barked trees.

She was still swearing under her breath when she turned to see Wes standing there with a hand on his hip, the other holding up a bowl of salve. He raised an eyebrow then shook his finger at her, sticking out his tongue and miming a scrubbing motion.

She blushed. "Sorry, Wes. Bad language, I get it. These things really hurt, though."

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and she sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'll do better."

He nodded acceptance and mimed rolling up her sleeve. She acquiesced and sat down to let him treat the sting.

He winced when he saw it, giving her a sympathetic look. He smeared the salve on it, bound it with some web bandages, and patted her gently on the shoulder as she stood up, shrugging an apology that he couldn't do more. The snow had long-since melted, so as much as she'd have loved to ice the stings, that wasn't an option.

Webber popped out of the bushes, and she was glad that Wes had stopped her swearing. She didn't curse in front of Webber. However old he was, he was still a child in part, and she'd always been very careful with her language around kids. "Did Allena get stung again? Owie."

"Yeah, owie. But I got the last worker bee. Think you're ready to help with the hive?"

Webber nodded excitedly and held up two large sticky nets. "Good deal," she said. "Let's go."

She'd been gathering worker bees from the same hive all day, and now only killer bees remained in it as far as she knew. The plan was for her to disturb the hive, lead the bees around the field, and let Webber chase after them and catch them all in his nets.

He'd been saving up his appetite all day for it. Killer bees were his favorite.

Wes tapped her on the shoulder as she turned to go and mimed a familiar gesture, one that had taken her a while to figure out but was now a normal part of their non-vocal vocabulary.

_Be careful!_

She nodded and smiled, though it was tight. She was feeling a bit feverish from all the stings, and really wanted to get this over with.

She made for the hive with a long birch stick, a machete on her back for hacking the hive apart once all the killer bees were dead, and an extra bug net in her left hand for catching the strays once Webber had done most of the work. Wes still had some salve left, but she hoped they wouldn't need it. She knew it was frustrating to him, not being able to do much more than treat the wounds she was sustaining, but he'd sprained his ankle a day or two ago and it was still weak. He couldn't handle the running.

She made for the hive, looked back to Webber, gave him a thumbs-up, and smacked the hive sharply with the stick.

She turned and ran as the hive erupted with the primal ferocity of your average Hawaiian volcano. More than a dozen killer bees, each grown to the size of a scrub jay with the bounty of spring, flew from the hive in a continuous red stream. She'd already charted her course through the field, and she took great care to avoid the ornate red and black hives that dotted the plain. These, as she'd learned, exclusively contained killer bees that would attack her on sight if she got too close to them. It was how she'd earned four of her stings that day.

She looped widely around the field, just catching sight of Webber's black form picking off small swathes of bees from the back of the buzzing trail as she led them on their wild goose chase.

She put on an extra burst of speed as she heard a sharpening buzz near her ear. One of them had gotten close. She'd tied down her hair for fear of bees getting caught in it, but the mat of hair wouldn't protect her from a sting if one of them got ahold of her.

The bee fell back, and she let out a huff of relief.

The buzzing gradually died down. She took a sharp turn to force the remaining bees to course-correct backwards, slowing them up a fair bit, and Webber shot by her with a cry of exhilaration and snagged the last few stragglers in his extra-big sticky net.

She loped to a halt and stood panting heavily. Webber held up two giant swathes of twitching, furious, bee-infested webbing with a triumphant grin. "Look! Webber caught them all! And Allena did not get any more stings, yes?"

She nodded. "Yeah, no more stings. Thanks, Webber. That was great."

He whooped. "Now we rest, eat some bees, then chop up hive and get honey and comb, yes?"

She nodded again. "That's the plan, Stan."

He giggled. "We are not Stan, we are Webber!"

She laughed breathlessly. Webber loved her silly colloquialisms, and she loved how much he enjoyed them.

They headed back to Wes, who looked at Webber's prizes with extreme trepidation. He held up the salve bowl and gave her a questioning glance.

"Nope," she said. "No more stings. Webber did great."

Wes nodded and gave him a gesture of congratulations, but flinched away as Webber held out his bee-mutton. "Wes wants some bees?"

He shook his head furiously, pulling out the roasted frog legs Allena had made them for lunch and pointing at them instead.

They all sat down and enjoyed their hard-earned break. They'd been up since dawn that morning, and she at least was exhausted. Unable to eat her food with the growing nausea from the bee-venom, Allena broke down and pulled out the last bottle of emergency tea.

Wes looked at her worriedly, but she waved him off. "I'll be fine. The venom is just…a bit much."

As she took a deep swig of the tea Webber said, "Allena is so tough! We cry every time we get stung. It hurts so bad! How does Allena get stung so much and not cry?"

She finished the last of the tea and felt the effects of the venom die down almost at once. Her stomach mellowed enough that she could finish her lunch, and her head stopped swimming. "I don't know. I guess I've just gotten used to worse injuries. Did I tell you about the time a hound almost bit my arm off?"

Webber gasped and settled down for the story. Wes, having heard this one already, leaned back against a tree trunk for a short nap.

She told Webber the tale while they rested up in the shade of the birch trees. This was a fairly typical day by then; she and Wes taking care of resource collection, sometimes with Webber's help, sometimes without, while Wolfgang was at home working on the new base and Wilson was tinkering with his inventions. He and Wolfgang would do all the heavy-lifting – hunting beefalo, gathering lumber, carting stone – but today he was finishing up the last touches on the flow hive.

In spite of her injuries, Allena was excited. Today was the day they put the flow-hive into action. She'd explained to Wilson, who hadn't known anything about bees, that they would need not only normal worker bees for their hive but also some honeycomb containing bee larvae. In the absence of a queen bee to lay, the worker bees would select a larva to become the queen of the new hive. Once these new bees were all situated, they would have a regular and reliable honey source. At least, that was the plan.

She finished the story – Webber, as usual, applauded – and stood up, pulling out her machete. "Alright, I guess it's about time to tackle the hive. You ready to take on any lingering bees, Webber?"

He nodded, pulling out his last net. "Yes, yes, yes! And Webber gets some honey, too?"

She nodded. "Yup. Webber gets honey." She'd promised him that he could gorge himself on as much as he wanted once she'd taken what she needed. There ought to be more than enough – the honey was literally overflowing, seeping out of cracks and holes in the bulbous yellow structure.

She walked over to it and prodded it with the birch branch again. A couple of killer bees flew out disjointedly and were swept up and eaten by Webber in a trice. Then she set down the branch, hoisted her machete, took a deep breath, and swung.

The sixteen-inch golden blade Wilson had made her specifically for this purpose sank beautifully into the comb, lodging about seven inches in. Nothing flew out to greet her.

She yanked it loose and swung it downwards, chopping off a clear, clean section of the hive. She lifted this off and peered inside.

It was beautiful, a perfect cross-section. Honey began gushing out of the combs she'd cut in half and running down the outside, and she could see other cells filled with larvae, gently twitching at the sudden exposure.

She frowned at some of these. They could already be clearly differentiated, some of them red, some yellow. She didn't want any killer bees in her hive, and if they could be cut down early that was just as well. She took a small flint knife and scraped the red ones out, offering them to Webber. He popped them into his mouth one at a time, savoring them like Halloween candy.

That done she cut the rest of the larval chambers out, lifted the comb—

And doubled over as two killer bees, which had crawled out of a previously honey-plugged hole in the base, flew out and sank their stingers into her gut.

She grabbed these and flung them onto the ground, gasping in agony as the venom began seeping into her abdomen. She forcibly reminded herself that they weren't lethal and maintained her hold on the comb, stumbling away from the hive towards the tree line again.

Webber squealed in dismay when he saw the bees on the ground and realized what had happened, then screeched angrily. She heard him stomping on them as she staggered away, and a bit more humming came from the hive. It seemed there were still a few bees left.

She heard Webber yelp in pain, but he didn't run. A quick glance back showed that he was whirling his webs around, expertly and furiously catching the half dozen or so bees that had crawled from the partly ruined hive.

She could feel her abdomen starting to swell, and her breathing grew labored as it spread up to her diaphragm. That wasn't good.

Wes, who had still been napping, looked up groggily then jumped to his feet as he saw her staggering over clutching her stomach. She shook her head as he held out the salve and pushed the comb towards him. "Get it…packed away…good…sample…"

She crumpled to the ground with a pained gasp as Wes took the comb. The swelling wasn't going down, but it wasn't spreading further either. She could still breath, and she forced herself to focus on that.

Wes quickly took care of the comb then came back, pushing up her shirt and looking at the sting sites in horror. She looked down to see exactly how bad it was.

Oh. Gross. Two dime-sized holes had been punched in her stomach and had bled slightly before the rapid coagulation from the venom had set in. Her entire stomach had grown red and swollen, petering off at the bottom of her ribcage.

She shivered as a wave of violent nausea hit her, then doubled over and vomited.

Wes hopped back and she croaked, "Sorry."

He went to her side and patted her head, then applied the remainder of the salve. He pulled out her water bottle and offered it to her – she quickly drained its contents – then took his own canteen and emptied it over her head.

She hissed in satisfaction as the cool water cascaded over her burning brow. "Thanks, Wes."

He patted her head again, sat down beside her, and started rocking back and forth anxiously.

Oh, man. He only did that when he was really nervous. No wonder, of course – all they had out here was salve. Either the reaction would calm down enough for her to be able to get back to base…or it wouldn't.

Webber jogged over, looking wretched. "Webber did not see the bees," he whined miserably. "We thought they were all gone. But more came out and stung you, and we didn't catch them, and…"

Allena, who could hear the tears in his voice, held up a hand and smiled at him. "It's okay, Webber. It was my mistake, too. Did you get the rest of them?"

He nodded. "Yes, all gone now." Then he stamped his foot angrily. "Bad bees! Bad, bad, bad! We _hate_ them, even if they are tasty!"

Poor Webber. Knowing that it would be good to give him something to do rather than just letting him stand there worrying, she said, "It's fine. I knew I'd probably get stung a bunch when I hatched this whole plan. But now we have everything we need to make our own hive so we can have all the honey we want without getting stung. Speaking of which, do you think you could go get some honey?" She used some water to rinse the remnants of the salve out of the salve-bowl and offered this to him. "I'd love a taste."

Webber took the bowl at once. "Yes! Yes, yes! Tasty honeys for Allena, to make you feel better!"

And he dashed off to collect the honey.

She watched him carefully collect a heaping bowl of honey and carry it back to her. "Thanks, Webber. I kinda lost my lunch when I got stung, so I could use it. Hopefully I'll be able to keep it down."

He sat down looked somewhat calmed as she raised the bowl to her lips and began partly nibbling, partly sucking at the thick, rich, golden substance.

She shivered at the taste; it was so rich and sweet it was almost difficult to get down. She ate it slowly, pausing to tell Webber, "This is amazing. Have you had some? You should go get more."

He shook his head. It looked like he'd lost his appetite, too.

She honestly hadn't expected to be able to take much, given how bad her nausea was, but to her surprise she was able to get a lot down. In fact, by the time she was halfway done with the bowl her roiling stomach was beginning to mellow.

She took a deep breath and realized that the swelling had gone down, too. Not completely, but certainly more than it should have by then. "Hey, I think this honey is a lot more than just a tasty snack. It's really helping the stings."

Wes looked at it curiously, and Webber perked up. "Honey makes Allena feel better?"

She nodded. "It seems so. I wonder why?"

Wes, who had stopped rocking at her remark, rubbed his chin then lifted a finger above his head. He mimed something blossoming out of the ground, pointed to her empty tea bottle, then pointed at the field.

She frowned, then pieced it together. "Oooh, you think that because the nectar comes from the healing tea-flowers, it might give the honey healing properties?"

He nodded.

She hummed. "I bet you're right. Man, I wish we had more of those growing around the base. But Wilson says the flowers can't be transplanted."

Wes rubbed his chin again, but then shrugged helplessly. He was out of ideas.

She lay against the trunk for another twenty minutes or so, slowly recovering. Normal flowers could be transplanted; and their field was capable of holding flowers, Wilson had just picked most of them. What did this field have that theirs lacked?

She dozed as she pondered the problem. She couldn't think of what the flowers might need that wasn't readily available at her own base, but ideas kept drifting about in her mildly fevered mind. They fluttered back and forth like the butterflies that roamed the field.

…Butterflies.

"We don't have any butterflies."

Wes looked at her questioningly. She elaborated. "The only thing this field has that ours doesn't is butterflies. Hey, Webber, think I can ask you for something?"

His head, which had been resting forlornly in his arms, popped up. "Yes! Anything for Allena."

"Could you go catch us some butterflies? And make sure not to hurt them? I'd love to take them back to base so we can have some in our own field."

Wes held out the nets he'd been working on and Webber took them. "Yes! How many would Allena like?"

"As many as we can carry back. And Wes, think you can whip up another bird trap cage to hold them?"

Wes nodded, jumped up, and started gathering the materials he needed for it. They were already using one for the bees, and they couldn't put the butterflies in with them – who knew how they'd react?

She yawned and laid back, intent on a proper nap. She figured she'd done enough for the day. Wes and Webber could handle it from here.

* * *

It wasn't a terribly pleasant nap, given that she was still fevered from the venom, but she did manage to actually fall asleep. Thankfully, she didn't dream. Fever dreams were never fun, and now that she had so much nightmare fuel – the metaphorical kind, not the literal kind – her fever dreams now had the potential to be nightmares of Kruegerian proportions.

She woke awhile later to see that Wes had finished the trap, and that Webber was dancing around the field still catching butterflies while being chased by a swarm of killer bees from one of the red hives. "Uh, oh. Hope he doesn't…" She yawned. "…get stung."

Wes hadn't noticed her awaken and jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. Then he rolled over, grabbed a big round sphere of twigs, grass, and webbing, and showed it to her. The bird trap she'd requested.

She peeked inside it. It already held a dozen butterflies, at least.

"Oh, wow. How long was I out?"

Wes shrugged, waving the question off. Evidently, she'd needed the sleep.

She finished the honey and stood up, clutching her stomach. It still hurt like the dickens, but nothing a whole lot of bedrest wouldn't fix.

Webber came running over, four more butterflies caught in his net. "Allena is awake! Webber caught all the butterflies he saw. Is that good?"

She let go of her stomach and forced herself to straighten up, not wanting to worry Webber. "Yeah, it's great. Thanks Webber. Now I just need to grab some of those flowers, and—"

At once Webber dropped the butterflies off in the trap and ran back out, eager to keep helping any way he could. She watched closely, worried that he might just start tugging them up, but her concerns were baseless. He was digging them up very carefully, keeping the roots intact and even bundling them with his extra webs. He gathered up a good dozen and brought them back to her.

She carefully took them and gave Webber a cautious hug, taking care not to agitate her stings. The swelling had almost vanished during her nap, but it was still horribly sore. "You're the best, Webber. And you took such good care of them! Have you ever gardened before?"

Webber nodded shyly. "Yes. We used to help mama in her garden when we were little."

"Not spider-mama, I take it." She gestured to Wes to start packing everything up. He grabbed the bees and the comb, and she put the butterfly trap in her own backpack, careful not to squish it. They began walking back as Webber responded.

"No," Webber said. "Not spider-mama. Real mama. Mama used to have a garden. Big, pretty, all filled with flowers and nice-smelling plants for cooking. Herbs. Our favorite was thyme. We used to help plant little tiny white flowers, her favorite. And there were lilies, too, that she would pick for papa sometimes and leave in pretty glass vase on the table. Was nice."

It seemed to her that his white gaze became oddly distant. Allena wondered how long it had been since he'd last seen his parents. "Webber, how did you get here? What happened?"

He whimpered sadly. "Mama said I had to go to school, but I…we…I did not want to. Mama said we had no choice, and we got angry. We liked to play in the forest, and in mama's big garden, but school did not have these things. Was grey and dark and boring. Sad, sad. I did not want to go."

She noted the fluctuations in pronoun. Was it because he was remembering the person he used to be? Before melding with the spider?

He continued. "I ran off into forest to get away, I was so upset! But while I was walking down my favorite path, the bad man appeared."

He shuddered.

"Maxwell?" Allena asked quietly.

Webber nodded. "Maxwell. He looked like a nice man, like the men on the television that mama and papa watched every night. I thought because he was wearing a suit, that meant he told the truth. But he didn't."

He hissed and clicked his fangs. "He said he could make me happy! Make sure I never had to go to school, that I could play in the forest all the time and make all sorts of new friends and never, never have to go where it's grey and sad and lifeless! So I said yes, and…"

All six of his eyes blinked. "He took me to a place in the forest I had never seen. Had big, old stones in a big, old circle, and lots of crumbly rocks and dust. There was nothing living there, and I got scared, but he said that if I just stood in the middle then I could go somewhere better. So I did. Then it started to rain, and there was a big, loud rumble, and a flash of light. I think it was lightning. And then…I was here."

His legs had begun twitching madly while he relayed the story, but upon its conclusion they stilled and curled in on themselves. In a small voice he said, "I still remember mama calling after me, telling me to come back, that it wouldn't be so bad, that she wouldn't send me anywhere awful because she l-l-l-lov…"

He petered off, stopped his walk, and fell down on the grass with a heart-wrenching cry of anguish.

Allena halted, alarmed, and carefully set everything down. She'd had no idea that her question would have that much of an effect on him. How long had it been since he'd even thought about his parents? About the life he'd left behind?

Pushing her injury to the back of her mind she dropped beside Webber and wrapped him in her arms at once, pulling him close. "Oh, Webber…it's okay…it's okay…"

But it wasn't okay. Legs twitching horribly, all six eyes leaking, he sobbed, "I m-m-miss my m-m-mama! _I miss my mama!"_

Tears sprung into her own eyes. She held him closer.

Damn Maxwell.

A child. He'd brought a child to the Constant. A scared, vulnerable child. If she ever got the chance, she swore…

Webber hiccupped loudly and said, "A-a-and the worstest part is that I can barely even 'member what they looked like. Mama and papa. I had a picture of them, of all three of us, but the big bad red meany took it…"

She recalled the thing he'd mentioned having appeared to defend Glommer. No wonder he hadn't been happy to see the cute little bug creature. She resolved to keep an eye out for anything fitting that description. "I'm sorry, Webber. I'm so sorry. I know how hard it is, losing your parents. I lost mine, too."

He sniffled and looked up at her. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. They went out to a play one night and they didn't come back. It was really tough. But I still had my sister to look after me, and you've had your mama-long legs and all your friends; and now? Well, now you have all of us, too. Me and Wilson and Wolfgang and Wes. Right, Wes?"

Wes, who had been standing by watching the exchange with pity, put on an encouraging smile and nodded. He hunkered down next to Webber and gave him a pat on the back.

Webber sat back and hiccupped again. "O-o-okee. It's okee. I miss mama and papa, but I g-g-guess…I guess I'll be alright until I can get home. I'm glad I found Allena. You make everything better."

She got up and she and Wes helped him to his feet. "I'm glad I can help, Webber. Say, would you like to come back to base with us?"

Webber and Wes both looked at her, surprised. Webber had never come back to their base, only ever accompanying them to the edge of the Deerclops Forest. But frankly, Allena was worried about him. She wasn't sure if this kind of breakdown was normal for Webber, not having known him for very long, but she suspected it wasn't.

Webber tilted his head. "Come back to where Allena lives? Allena and Wilson and Wes and Wolfman?"

She nodded. "Yup. It'll be a little crowded, and you won't be able to stay for long, but why don't you come spent a day or two with us? We'd love to have you."

Wes, standing just out of Webber's line of sight, twiddled his thumbs and turned away. She knew he wouldn't have any qualms about it, but they both knew that Wolfgang was likely to pitch a fit. Though he mostly tolerated Webber, the idea of sharing a camp with him while he slept probably wouldn't settle well with him. Especially since Wilson had dropped the whole 'Webber used to eat people' bomb on him at the campfire the previous week.

Webber brushed himself off and wiped his eyes. It took several swipes since he had six of them. "You mean it? O-okee! Webber will come back with you. Maybe we can play games? Have snacks? Sing songs? Like a sleepover?"

Allena smiled widely at the suggestion and picked her things back up. "Yeah, like a sleepover. Does that sound like fun to you, Wes?"

Wes nodded, and to her surprise he looked genuinely excited. Apparently, he was a sleepover kind of guy.

They made their way back to base, Allena stopping to feed her beefalo friend along the way, and they reached it just a couple hours past noon.

Allena's heart lifted upon seeing Wilson out in the middle of the field working on the hive. Wolfgang and Wes were building their base on the other side of the plain, beside the island, where she'd set up her small camp upon her arrival. The flowhive was midway between them near the edge of the forest. It had taken Wilson a few solid days of work, but it looked great.

She gestured to them to come along, and Wes pulled out the honeycomb. To her relief she saw that the larvae were all still lively and wriggling. Wilson hadn't seen the three of them approaching, so she called out as they got close. "Hey. What's cookin', good-lookin'?"

Webber giggled and Wilson turned to greet them. He did a double take when he saw Webber, but his eyes mostly slid over to her. He smiled and walked over to hug her, but she held up a hand. "Ah, I got stung a fair few times. I'm gonna have to take a raincheck on the hugs."

Wilson's eyes widened. "Oh, dear. I knew we should have waited until I could whip up some protective clothing. Are you alright?"

She shrugged. "I will be. So, I take it everything's ready?"

He nodded excitedly. "Yes, indeed! I've triple checked everything. It all works flawlessly. And I see Wes has the comb?"

Wes nodded and stepped forward, presenting the pale-golden, geometrical construct. Wilson's eyes widened when he saw it. "My, what a specimen. Look at those larvae. You say that one of them is a queen?"

She shook her head. "Assuming they're anything like real bees, none of them are yet. You see, the larvae are fed a special substance called queen jelly at a young age and are switched over to something called bee bread to become workers or drones. But when the hive needs a new queen, certain larvae are picked to continue eating queen jelly. The continued feeding causes them to grow into fertile queens. Whichever one reaches maturity first will kill the other candidates, and bam – new queen bee."

Wes looked a bit revolted at the idea of sororicide, but Wilson simply looked delighted. "Fascinating. How do you know so much about these creatures?"

"You remember that thing I told you about? YouTube?"

She spent the next ten minutes filling them in on all the marvelous facts she'd learned about bees from her highly reputable and totally reliable source while they carefully situated the comb in the hive and prepared to release the bees. "Alright," she said. "I…uhh…can't really run at the moment, so I'm going to stand back and let someone else do the honors, okay?"

Wilson nodded. He stepped forward, looking ready to volunteer, then paused. He was big on honors, but he had something else on his mind, it seemed.

He'd covertly taken her aside while Wes showed Webber the flowhive, and had asked her what Webber was doing here. She'd told him about his breakdown, and how she was worried about him, and he'd agreed to letting him stay for a couple of days despite the already cramped living conditions.

Now he turned to Webber and said, "Ah, Webber. As you were so instrumental in securing the honeycomb, perhaps you would like to do the honors?"

Webber cocked his head curiously, not fully understanding. "Honors? What does Webber do?"

Wilson handed him the cage of bees. "We need to introduce the bees to their new home. It's a bit risky, but would you like to be the one to release them? To officially begin the new hive?"

Webber's face lit up. "You want Webber to do the honors? We have never done any honors before! Oh, yes, yes, yes!"

Wes gave them a thumbs-up then hobbled away on his weak ankle. Allena, too, retreated, going to stand beside the base. She saw Wilson explaining to Webber what to do, then he took off to join them.

They watched as Webber carefully set the cage of bees on the ground, undid the latch, opened it, and slowly stepped back. Once he was a few feet away, he turned and ran.

A bee crawled slowly out of the top. It walked in a full circle around the rim, then flew up and started drifting around. They'd picked an area with a few newly sprouted flowers which Wilson had left unpicked just for the hive, and the bee wandered over and landed on one of these. One by one the other bees followed, and soon several found the hive and crawled inside.

One popped out and flew around to the other bees, all of which quickly retreated to the new hive. It looked like they were interested in taking care of their young.

"Yes!" She yelped in victory. "It looks like it's working!"

Wilson nodded, puffed his chest out, and said, "They certainly do seem drawn to the hive. I'm rather proud of my craftsmanship. All credited to your design, of course."

"Allena designed fancy hive? And Wilson built?"

They nodded.

Webber trilled happily. "You are good team! Work well together, like mama and papa did. Teamwork is best!"

Allena coughed awkwardly at the comparison. "Uh, yup, teamwork makes the dream work."

Webber once again giggled at her colloquialism. "Bees are in new home, and now we are ready for sleepover! Where is Wolfman? Webber wants to say hello!"

Wes tugged on his arm and gestured towards the forest, where Wolfgang said he would be working all day carting lumber for the new base. No doubt he would be thrilled at the interruption. Webber waved to them, "See you later! We go see Wolfman!" And they disappeared into the forest.

She watched them go, and once they were out of sight she relaxed. For the moment at least, she and Wilson were alone.

Wilson sighed. "Honestly, that is a strange boy…creature…thing. Still, I suppose it won't hurt to have him for a few days. What did you say to get him so upset?"

Allena shook her head, not wanting to go over it just then. "I'll tell you later." She tugged him towards the base. "For now…"

Wilson nodded fervently. "Of course, let's look at your stings."

That wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but allowed him to lead her to the medical bench. Chester was out with Wolfgang helping him carry lumber, and Glommer sat buzzing serenely by the firepit. He'd been perfectly happy to stay with them at camp, and like Chester seemed to require nothing other than the object she'd found him with. The flower sat beside him on a small stool, easy for him to access.

Wilson motioned for her to sit down, but she didn't. "Wes already treated the stings. They'll be fine. They aren't bad. And…"

Wilson set the supplies he'd picked up back down and turned to her, and as he did, she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. She didn't care about the pain of the stings just then. Alone-time with Wilson had become a scarce commodity, and she'd been aching to enjoy some all week. It had been about a month since they'd returned from their trip with Wes and Wolfgang, and they'd been hard at work ever since restocking their larders with the new spring growth.

Wilson made a pleased sound as she nuzzled into his chest, hand coming up to carefully stroke her hair. "That was sweet of you, letting Webber do that," she said softly. "Thank you for being so conscientious."

Wilson hrmph'd. "Ah, that was nothing. Now, dearest, are you quite certain there's nothing I can do for your stings?"

She shook her head and reached up to wrap an arm around his neck. "It'll just take time. So…anything to make the time go by faster would help."

Wilson rumbled happy assent and led her over to their tent. It wouldn't do to have anyone walking in on them on the medical bench. They brushed past Glommer and pushed aside the tent flap, and Allena sat down on her sleeping bag.

Wilson straddled her hips at once, gently pushing her back. She obliged, biting her lip against the mild discomfort of the stings on her abdomen.

"Where…?" Wilson asked.

She sighed, lifting the fabric of her shirt to show him.

He winced. "Oh, my dearest. Why do you always come back to me damaged? Sometimes it makes me question sending you out at all," he added teasingly.

He gently drew his fingers down her side, keeping adequate distance from the stings themselves. Her skin was still a bit inflamed, even that far away, and it made it sensitive. Not painful, not with how careful he was being, but very sensitive.

She shivered at the contact.

He leaned over cautiously and kissed her, bracing himself above her so he wouldn't press against her stomach. She wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the three stings on her arms and two on her legs as she entwined one with his. They hurt, yes, but the pain was being largely drowned out.

She savored his scent, his warmth, the pressure. Slowly, the pain faded into her sensory background as other sensations took precedence.

"How do you always do that?" She asked breathlessly as they broke apart for air.

"Hmm?" Wilson asked. "Do what?"

"Take the pain away."

His eyes brightened as his fingertips lightly dusted across her neck, brushing the hair away. "Oh? Do I?"

She nodded, sighing blissfully as he bent down and nipped at her neck. "It doesn't matter what it is," she breathed. "Hunger, poison, burns, chills; you make everything stop hurting, every time."

He let out a low, satisfied sound. She'd learned that if there was one thing he liked as much as physical contact, it was having his ego stroked – particularly with regards to his effectiveness as a partner.

She closed her eyes and let him lavish her with kisses as she lavished him with praise. "You're always so good to me…you do so much for us, I always feel safe with you, I can't even remember the last time I was hungry, or cold, or scared…"

He rumbled deep in his chest and pressed against her lightly, unable to maintain total distance. That was okay. He avoided her stomach, and even if he hadn't, she doubt she would have noticed through the blinding haze of endorphins flooding her body.

"Mmm…" she sighed happily as his hand trailed up her side. "Wilson…"

He'd moved up to nibble at her ear, but stopped abruptly as the sound of voices approached the base. He leaned back with an exasperated groan, and she laughed breathlessly as she heard Webber calling for them, Wolfgang's agitated holler close behind. "Well," she said as she forced herself back up into a sitting position. "At least you don't have to worry about prudence anymore. Our friends take care of that for us."

He snorted. "Indeed. Ugh." He sat up and stretched. "Why don't you go entertain them for a while? I'll be right out."

He sat back on his sleeping bag, crossing his legs in front of himself and blushing slightly as Webber's voice drew ever closer, this time accompanied by Chester's excited bark.

She bit back laughter. "No problem."

She hobbled out of the tent, leaving Wilson behind to get more presentable, and called out, "Hey, Webber! Have you ever played go-fish?"

Going by the ecstatic combination of hissing and whooping she received, she guessed he was familiar with the game.


	27. Stolen

Three weeks later, they were swimming in flowers.

They'd had a planting party, spreading all the white tea-lilies out around the flowhive and releasing the butterflies as soon as the flowers were all in the ground. Wilson had been skeptical, but to his amazement the flowers had not only survived, they'd multiplied in the period of spring growth. Evidently the butterflies, for whatever reason, played a vital role that bees and water and sunshine could not fulfill.

The flowhive was a resounding success thus far, likely in part because of the flower boom, and Wilson had already set aside the materials needed for another one. "I see no reason for us not to have two, or three, or four, so long as the extraction works well enough."

Two of the six columns were full already, which seemed fast to Allena. Not that she was complaining. They were heading out now to drain one of them and see if the collection would go as well as she'd hoped.

Webber was accompanying them. He'd been dropping by at least once a week at Allena's insistence that they maintain regular contact. Wolfgang wasn't too happy about it, but Wilson didn't mind since Webber always brought them useful tidbits. The web stores had never been fuller, and he never turned down a new supply of butterflies, which Webber had a great deal of fun catching.

Of course, Wilson took care not to let him know what actually happened to some of those butterflies. As he'd discovered quite by accident one day – he'd reached absentmindedly for some of Wes' light and fluffy butter crisps and accidentally shoved two dried butterfly wings in his mouth and swallowed them before realizing what they were – butterfly wings had quite the enervating effect. Not only did they numb whatever aches and pains one had, if only briefly, they also provided quite the boost to one's focus for a good few hours. Wilson had taken to eating them recreationally every once in a while whilst inventing, and Allena wasn't entirely sure if it was good for him.

"It's fine!" He'd insisted one day while rapidly sketching out a detailed blueprint for one of the competent devices of the Gateway. "Honestly, there's nothing wrong with them! I feel fantastic!"

She'd sighed and walked away, singing some Jonathan Coulton under her breath.

Now they approached the hive with a beautifully carved honey jar in hand. Wolfgang had made it just for the occasion. The lid was set with a stunningly detailed dragonfly handle and the rim was carved with flowers and vines and leaves. She'd commended him on the work, saying that it was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. He'd been quite pleased with himself. Now, however, his mood had grown a bit more dour.

"So, you say you have key that will make all the honey flow into jar, easy-peasy?"

Wolfgang was dubious about the hive. He wasn't sure it could possibly work as well as she'd insisted, and he was terrified of bees. For that reason he was keeping his distance. That said, he was still highly curious, which was why he'd joined them rather than waiting back at base. Wanting to mooch off of their supplies as little as possible, he'd decided that if it worked as well as she'd extolled, he would borrow the blueprints and make one for himself and Wes.

"Yup," she said as she twisted the lid off the jar. "Here, I'll show you."

It was around noon and the bees were largely out and about. To Allena's cautious delight, she'd seen no killer bees at all so far and she was hoping that would remain the case.

Wilson pried a panel off the hive, grabbed the long, golden key-rod, and lifted it gently off of the frame. He said, "If you don't want to risk getting stung, stay well back. I'm the one who built this, so if there are any problems, I intend to be the one to suffer the consequences."

Allena rolled her eyes. "I made the basic designs. I'm sticking around, too. You twist the key, I'll hold the jar, okay?"

He didn't look happy about it, even if she had recovered from her own stings not two days after receiving them. New stings wouldn't be any more than a mild inconvenience.

Still, he said nothing. "Wes?" She asked. "Webber? Do you two want to stand back?"

Both shook their heads. "We want to see how hive works!" Webber insisted as Wes nodded concurrence. "You show?"

She was pretty excited to show them the design, and she pointed it out to them, explaining the basics while Wilson inserted the key. "…and when Wilson twists, the combs will shift and let all the honey flow out without bothering the bees. Now, if you're sure you want to risk it…"

Everyone nodded, even Wolfgang, though he looked quite ready to bolt at the slightest hint of an aggressive hum.

"Okay." Then, putting on her best Yzma impression, she cackled and said, "Pull the lever, Kronk!"

Wilson, who had by then grown accustomed to her odd modern cultural references – he was quite eager to watch the movie Cast Away – rolled his eyes and cranked the lever.

With a great clunk, the components in the hive shifted. Glass was a challenging component to make in the Constant, but Wilson had managed some for the siding so they could see how much honey was available, and sure enough they saw the hexagons break cleanly apart. The honey started flowing at once.

Wolfgang grunted in approval as it began dripping, slowly but steadily, into the jar. There was no initial reaction from the hive.

The all stood stock still; but as the minutes trickled by…

"No bees," Wolfgang said wonderingly.

Wilson's face split into a wide grin. The hive had remained completely oblivious to the theft. "No bees," he agreed. He reached over and pecked her on the cheek. "All thanks to my lady scientist, here."

She smiled sheepishly and caught herself almost dropping the honey jar. A while later, most of the honey had drained and Wilson sealed the combs back up and returned the key and panel to their resting places.

They returned to base, and as they did so Wilson actually let out an uncharacteristic _whoop!_ "This is splendid! You've no idea how challenging honey has been to come by! Why, at the rate they're producing I imagine we could have half a dozen jars stored by winter and still enjoy it periodically throughout the year! Naturally, of course, the hope is that we'll be gone by summer, but…"

Wolfgang snorted. "Yes, yes, science man thinks he can science his way out of this mad little world. But really, if Wolfgang cannot _muscle_ his way out of it…"

Wilson scowled, and in a moment the two were arguing. Allena sighed deeply, but didn't get involved. The two had been butting heads since the move, and she and Wes had taken to letting them get it out of their systems. As for Webber, he thought it was more entertaining than his papa's Friday night boxing matches back home. He'd been regaling her with old memories every time he came by, and Allena was always happy to lend an ear.

Now, as they got back to the base – Wolfgang had erected a basic wall for their own base, and would soon be moving all of their things over there – she butted in. "Girls, girls, you're both pretty," she said in mild exasperation. "Now, maybe we could focus on something more productive?"

Wilson sniffed disdainfully as he brushed past Glommer, who had drifted to the middle of the base and was hovering there contentedly. "Such as?"

She punched his shoulder good-naturedly. "Oh, come on. I know you always have something to work on. And Wolfgang, didn't you need help with the power drill for the new chair?"

Wolfgang perked up at this and, with one last sour look at Wilson, went off to collect the pieces they'd been working on. "Wolfgang's chairs are mighty, but will be even mightier with using mighty drill!"

She raised an eyebrow at Wilson as he opened his mouth – likely to correct the man's grammar, or perhaps offer some synonyms for 'mighty' – but left off at her expression. He turned to his worktable, snuck a glance at Webber to make sure he wasn't watching, and opened a small compartment on his desk. He pulled out a couple butterfly wings and scarfed them down before the spider-boy saw.

She frowned but said nothing. Wilson had just stocked up on the things, and had killed almost a dozen butterflies that day before Webber had come, knowing that he was staying for a couple of days in celebration of their first honey harvest. Though they could certainly spare the butterflies – they were reproducing like crazy, and the entire plain was now covered with flowers – it just didn't settle well with her. She wouldn't tell Wilson, but she just didn't feel right about killing them. The butterflies felt different from most of the other creatures in this world. They felt more alive. More real. More…innocent.

Things settled down for a while. Glommer was glittering faintly in the afternoon sun, bright blue coat even more vibrant than the spring sky above. Wilson worked on his tinkering while she and Wolfgang worked on the chair. Wes and Webber were having fun playing go-fish, a doubly entertaining pastime because Webber had to constantly work out what Wes was asking him for, something which absolutely delighted him.

This went on for an hour or so, and by the time Webber had gleefully lost his seventh consecutive game of go-fish with Wes, who as it turned out was quite the card-shark, she and Wolfgang were putting the final touches on the chair. It was a beautiful work, all carved with magpies which, as she'd told Wolfgang when he'd picked out the wood for it, were her favorite birds. He'd decided she would have the first chair, and though she'd insisted that it wasn't necessary he'd insisted that it was.

They stepped back to admire it. She looked closely at a majestic, straight-billed bird and traced the carefully carved patterns on its back. She could easily imagine the stark, simple coloration, unpainted though it was, and it made her heart ache for home. "It's beautiful, Wolfgang. Thank you."

Wolfgang puffed out his chest. "Wolfgang is happy to make for Allena. Now, sit! See how mighty my craftsmanship is!"

She laughed and obliged, crossing her legs daintily and sitting down. It fit her perfectly, and she was frankly astounded. "You know, we have comfortable furniture back home, but even I've never sat in a chair that was custom-made for me. It's incredible. Where did you learn this sort of thing?"

Wolfgang shrugged. "Eh, learned from an…old friend back home. Taught me to be delicate with my hands, how to create rather than just destroy."

"That's wonderful, Wolfgang. You certainly have a knack for creation."

Wilson snorted rudely from his workbench, and Allena flushed. Surely, he wasn't about to do this _now?_

It seemed he was. "Yes, yes, it's very nice," he said without looking up and in tones of total indifference.

Wolfgang narrowed his eyes at Wilson, but then straightened out with a casual shrug. "Many thanks. Of course, not everyone can be as good as Wolfgang at making nice things."

Wilson's eye twitched. "Oh? Remind he where the honey sitting in your jar came from?"

"From contraption out front that you made, of course! Very functional. Ugly, but functional, like everything you make."

Allena winced, as did Webber and Wes from their newest game by the firepit. Wilson was not about to take that lying down.

Indeed, he stood from his chair and growled, "Oh, pardon me for not expending hours and hours of vital time carving pretty little birds onto my life-saving inventions!"

 _"Your_ life-saving inventions? Wolfgang thought that it was Allena who designed nice beehive."

Tensions were ratcheting up, and the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck. Even Chester was whining now, though Glommer sat serenely, totally unbothered by the ambient discord.

She decided to step in. "Wolfgang, I only made the basic design, and Wilson can make beautiful things, too. Wilson, Wolfgang's craftsmanship is stunning, even you have to admit that—"

"I have to admit no such thing!" He snapped. "And I certainly hope that you aren't wasting everyone's time carving perfect little woodland creatures into every plank of your new base, because I'll be quite happy to see you moved into it as soon as possible!"

Wolfgang growled and stepped forward. So did Wilson.

This had gone far enough.

She stepped forward and held out her hands. "Stop!" She yelled.

But she was just a bit too late. They had both rushed each other and, though both tried to pull back as she intervened, they both ended up bumping into her and sending her flying backwards – right into Glommer.

The cute buzzing Glommer normally emitted raised in an alarmed pitch as he went bumbling across the base, bumping into a wall and swaying in disorientation. His buzzing took on a confused, dejected cadence, and immediately the atmosphere changed.

Every hair went up on Allena's body, and it seemed to her that the day flashed red for an instant. From the firepit, Webber joined Chester in his whining.

Wilson's eye twitched again. Then, experienced enough in the ways of the Constant to recognize danger when it approached, he flung himself at his weapons cabinet to prepare for whatever was about to arrive.

He was a moment too late. A monstrous form bounded over the wall, landing a foot in front of Wilson and a foot shy of the cabinet. It took a deep breath, threw back its head…

And yodeled.

It wasn't a silly, cheerful, lift-your-spirits kind of yodel. It was a deep, ululating yodel. A dark, mournful yodel. It was a yodel to make grown men quiver in their boots.

The creature, which had landed facing away from them, turned to gaze down at them.

Ten feet tall and covered in bright red and jet-black hair; a long, scaly tail, almost like a dragon's; two huge, stomping hooves and two long, grasping arms tipped with cruel, hooked claws; a heavy iron chain looped around its bulging waist, loose manacles clinking at its wrists, and a massive white sack slung over its shoulder; finally, the head of a goat, bearded and yellow-eyed, topped with magnificent, curling black horns.

Allena had no name for this being, though she knew that Webber did. Indeed, he hissed it quietly as the brute's yellow eyes drifted searchingly across the camp. _"Chassachht,"_ he said, voice faint with terror. "The Red One."

It turned out that Wolfgang, too, had a name for this being, and as he shouted it all hell broke loose.

_"IS KRAMPUS!"_

The Red One, Krampus, yodeled wrathfully once again and turned to the weapons cabinet. He hopped into the air and, with a kick like a kangaroo, shattered the cabinet, sending all of their weapons spilling out onto the ground.

"What the…?!" Wilson cried as his carefully crafted arsenal was scattered about. Before he could grab anything, however, Krampus swept his sack across the ground and the weapons vanished into it.

 _Houdini be damned,_ Allena thought wildly as the creature settled the sack back onto his shoulder.

She gulped and stepped back. Krampus's eyes darted to the chair beside her, and he leaped over to examine the handiwork. He picked it up, decided it was too big for his sack…and hurled it across the base where it shattered against the wall.

She stumbled away, but Krampus didn't seem intent on attacking her. Instead he bounded past her to where Wes and Webber were playing. Webber cowered and Wes fell backwards, and with a single sweep of his sack all their playing cards vanished.

He yodeled again and began hopping around the camp crushing chests and cabinets, swinging his sack, and vanishing everything that wasn't nailed down. To Allena's dismay, she saw Wolfgang's beautiful honey-jar vanish into it as well.

Wilson hollered in fury, grabbed his last weapon, a basic spear, and charged the thief. Krampus didn't bother to acknowledge him. He simply bounded away with ease every time Wilson drew close. It didn't even look like he was dodging – the evasion was so natural it seemed as if Wilson was just charging around as blindly as a bat and as automatically as a clockwork rook.

Krampus leaped over to his workstation and swept everything into his sack, then pulled open the little compartment containing the butterfly wings. The gargling hisses that came out of his mouth almost sounded like a _tsk, tsk, tsk._

He looked around at Wilson, who froze. The creature pinned him with his gaze and rumbled, low and deep:

_"Naughty."_

Allena backed towards Wolfgang, who was curled up on the ground trembling terribly. "Wolfgang," she said, voice tight with tension. "What is that thing?"

"I-i-i-is Krampus!" He said tremulously. "Mother t-told me about him, when I was young! H-h-he comes to bad childrens, n-n-naughty childrens, and he t-t-takes most treasured possession!"

Allena nodded, quickly glanced around the base.

What did Wilson cherish above anything else? His science machine? That was too big for Krampus to carry. The blueprints to the Gateway? Maybe, but they had multiple copies of that, including the one on her phone. Krampus wouldn't get all of them. Or maybe—

Krampus slowed, stopped, and twisted his neck around.

He was staring at _her._

His cold yellow eyes burned down at her, his nostril's flared, and every muscle in her body went tense. The moment froze.

Then, Krampus yodeled once again and the spell broke. She turned and ran.

She didn't make it two steps before Krampus's massive hooves thundered down just behind her, knocking her off her feet. She fell, but before she could even hit the ground she was enveloped.

A wall of white cloth cut off her view of the world, and she just heard Wilson screaming, "NO, ALLE—"

…when the sack string was drawn tight and the world outside was cut off.

It was like someone had flicked a switch on reality. One moment she was in the Constant, the next she was confined to a small, dark, shifting place, no sound or light from the outside world present, and it seemed to her that objects were flying around her head without quite bouncing into whatever walls she was pressed against.

The sack was bigger on the inside. If she were a Doctor Who fan like her sister, this would be a good time for a joke or reference about his nifty, telephone-booth spaceship. But she wasn't, and all she could think about was whether this thing was airtight or not.

Going by the rhythmic bouncing, Krampus was bounding away from the camp, though in what direction she couldn't tell. She screamed at the top of her lungs and kicked out, but her feet seemed to miss the constricting cloth wall and her cry echoed as though in some vast chamber.

She continued struggling for maybe fifteen minutes, but when she began to feel lightheaded, she stopped. Unless she was mistaken, this thing was airtight.  
And she was running out of air.

She whimpered and lay still, praying that Krampus didn't intend to leave her in there for long. Thankfully a few minutes later the bouncing stopped, and with a moderately uncomfortable thud the bag became still.

Light flooded the sack and she gasped as cool, fresh air rushed in as well. She squinted up into the light to see Krampus gazing down at her. They looked at each other for a long moment, then he grinned. His teeth were pearly white but badly crooked, and his eyes glittered cruelly.

With a cry she lunged forward, intent on escaping, but with a gleeful yodel he pulled the drawstring tight again and the light was cut off. She felt the world shift as he picked the sack back up and resumed hopping.

She spent a brief moment feeling for the opening she knew must be there, but when she felt nothing she fell back and worked on slowing her pulse and breathing. She didn't know how long the trip was going to be, and if she was going to survive then she'd need to preserve oxygen.

Her air conservation saved her life, because for nearly an hour Krampus bounded straight towards whatever he called home, and he did not stop to open the sack again.

She lay perfectly still, trying desperately not to think of how far from home she must have been carried. Though they'd been going for less than an hour, at the speed the beast traveled he may well have carried her miles and miles from home.

Her pulse sped up whenever she considered this, but she forced it back down again and again. She'd begun breathing hard after half an hour, and now, twenty minutes later, she was gasping for air like a fish out of water. She took in lungful after desperate lungful, but each one satisfied her less than the last. If this trip didn't end soon…

She began grasping desperately for anything that might help her. Her hands passed over several things – a hound trap, a flask, a playing card – and finally wrapped around a strange wooden shape.

The dragonfly handle told her what it was – the honey jar. Her mind grasped dimly at a minor hope – it was only half-full of honey. The other half was empty.  
Empty. But not empty – full of air.

She twisted off the lid, shoved it in her face and gasped. A tiny rush of fresh, sweet-smelling air filled her lungs, bringing her briefly back to herself. Not enough, though. Not enough.

She resealed the lid, took a deep breath, and tried crying out for Krampus to open the sack. No good. She could barely manage a sound, let alone a coherent plea.

There was nothing she could do. She started to see blotches of color in the darkness before her. Faces. Forms. Figures.

She flopped back and waited to die.

Just as the colors were beginning to fade, the world stopped bouncing. The sack shifted, rolled…

Dim light flooded her awareness as she fell from the upended sack onto a hard stone floor.

Everything Krampus had stolen fell out and scattered about her. She gasped as cold air hit her lungs. Still too weak to move, she lay there drinking in the oxygen until the world started to stop spinning. Then something red and slimy slid over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air again.

A deep, ululating laugh. Krampus was amusing himself. She tried to shove his tail off of her face, to no avail. She was still too weak.

Then, a higher, bleating voice cried something in a language she did not know. With a sharp movement and a rough snarl, the tail was gone. She curled up, away from the hulking red form she could just barely see in the dim light of whatever cave they were in, and sobbed for air.

She lay shivering as two voices began floating past over her head, one belonging to Krampus, the other to an unknown entity. Whatever he was saying, Krampus sounded flippant and gruff. He laughed and put his hoof on her shoulder, rolling her over so she was belly-up again, but with another sharp movement and what sounded like a reprimand, the hoof was removed.

She was starting to recover. Her eyes had adjusted to the lighting, and as she looked around she saw that she was in a large cave, the roof covered with stalactites and the floors covered with stalagmites. The walls of the caves were covered in shelves innumerable, all with objects placed carefully upon them, and beneath the shelves were piles and piles of…stuff.

She couldn't make everything out, but she saw bundles of grass and sticks mixed in with toys and gadgets, old rusty pans filled with cracked flower pots filled with lanterns, carved wooden goods and clumsily wrought golden ones, old jewelry and loose buttons and broken fishing poles and spears and hammers and all the other remains of what looked to be a hundred raids on the denizens of the Constant. And maybe a few raids beyond, as well.

The arguing was still going on, and her eyes rolled around to the other figure standing over her. He looked a little bit like Krampus in that he was covered in hair, but it was brown and looked much softer. He also had hooves and a tail, but the hooves were smaller; prancing hooves rather than stamping hooves. His tail wouldn't have looked out of place on a brown border collie. His ears were soft and silky and quirked up at the tips, and his horns were small and white. His nose looked like a dog's nose. His eyes, unlike Krampus's, were pure white.

He saw her looking and leaned over to examine her. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something.

Before he could she choked as her collar tightened roughly around her throat. Krampus had grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt and was dragging her away. She reached around to claw at his claws, she kicked and wriggled, but she couldn't do anything as she was dragged across the stone floor. She managed to reach down and pull her knife out, slashing it at his hand, and he dropped her with a sharp snarl. Then his tail cracked like a whip, striking her wrist and causing her to drop the knife, and his hoof came down and shattered the flint blade into dust and splinters.

He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up, swinging her around. His hand reached past her to fiddle with something, and a moment later he threw her forcefully into a wrought iron cage that hung from the ceiling against the wall. Her head struck the back of it, and she saw stars.

She slumped down and groaned, dazed. Her legs were hanging out of the small cage, and Krampus grabbed them and shoved them back, slamming the cage shut and locking it with a key that looked to be made out of an antler.

He stepped back. The smaller creature stood beside Krampus as he grinned widely, admiring his handiwork. The smaller one's hoof clicked nervously on the ground, and he twiddled his short dog-like claws. His ears drooped. He looked like he was pouting.

She looked at Krampus and said, "What are you…why…ugh…" Her head was still throbbing and spinning. This was worse than the bee venom.

Krampus laughed. "You, new treasure. You stay. Make good trophy."

And he gestured to all the shelves. As she looked at them, she realized what they were: the most treasured possession of everyone Krampus had ever robbed.

And she was Wilson's.

She narrowed her eyes and him and croaked, "Wilson will come for me. They all will."

Krampus bellowed with laughter. "Little people cannot get here. You stay. Forever."

She looked to the cave entrance, and what she saw made her heart drop. Fog swirled outside, and from where she was it looked like they were on top of a mountain, the Constant spread out before them like a scenic picture on a calendar. She was at the top of an insurmountable peak.

Krampus twirled the key in his hand and said, "Hope new home is comfy. Now…"

He turned. As he did he pulled something out of nowhere– a small pan flute, unless she was mistaken – and handed it to the smaller beast. Then he swept his tail into the pile of goods he'd stolen, brushing them into one of his hoards. His tail wrapped around the honey-jar, though, picking it up and inspecting it. "Nice. Very nice."

He hopped over and placed it on one of his shelves, between a small pile of red cloth and a wood-and-copper picture frame. This shelf was set apart from the others. It was made of gold and only had four items on it, the last being an old book.

She reached around to the back of her head and her fingers came back red. She felt queasy, dizzy, and tired. Although she knew that she might be concussed, and that falling asleep would be a very bad idea, she couldn't stop the waves of black pulsing at the edges of her vision. As she watched Krampus hopping around his cave, straightening things out and inspecting old goods, her muscles went lax and her eyelids fluttered.

The last thing she saw was the smaller beast, the brown one, staring at her and twiddling his clawed thumbs.


	28. Bond and Free

Wilson sat by the fire. His arms lay limp in his lap and his head hung forlornly.

Wes had been wandering the camp straightening everything up in Allena's absence. Everything that was left, anyways. Krampus had done a number on them. Now he approached Wilson, sitting down beside him and reaching out to tap him cautiously on the knee.

Wilson looked up. "Yes?"

Wes began miming to him, he tried to convey what was on his mind. That they needed to go, needed to pack up their things and try to find Allena. Who knew what that creature – Krampus – would do to her?

But it was for naught. Wilson stared at him, uncomprehending. Then he shook his head and returned his empty gaze to the firepit.

Wes stamped his foot in miserable frustration, but Wolfgang's voice sounded behind him a moment later. "I believe Wes is trying to say, 'we need to pack our things, go after Allena'."

Wes looked up, excited. Wolfgang didn't always understand him, but he did then, and Wes was grateful. Allena always understood him, and without her here…

But his excitement turned to dismay as Wolfgang said, "But is no use. What do we do, Wes? Where do we go? Split up? Go random directions? Keep walking until the edge of world? There is nothing."

Wes ran his fingers through his hair. It was true, they had no leads. After snatching Allena, Krampus had pulled out a little wooden flute and piped a quick melody. The next thing Wes had been aware of was Webber shaking him awake. The flute had knocked everyone out cold, and Krampus had vanished without a trace. Wilson had spent an hour running around the base, frantically searching for tracks, but had found nothing.

Still, they had to do something. They needed Allena. She kept everyone calm when tensions rose. She kept everyone hopeful when things were dreary. She made everyone laugh when the world turned grey. She…she…

Wilson stood up with a long, deep sigh, and went over to his worktable. He looked around, picking up a few things and inspecting them, then he pulled out a long roll of paper and began writing. A while later he pinned the list up and pointed at it. "That thing robbed us of many of our valuables. We'll need to restock. That list contains everything we'll need in short order. We can get started on it tomorrow."

His voice was dull and listless, but Wes's pity was marred by frustration. He walked up to the man and stamped his foot. Trying to keep his message as simple as possible, he pointed at Wilson, pointed off into the distance, clasped his hands over his heart, and mimed the swooping motion of Krampus's sack. Then he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

_Krampus took her because you love her!_

For once, Wilson actually seemed to understand, and a powerful shudder rocked the man's body. "I know. I know this is my fault, but—"

"Is Wolfgang's fault, too. Pushed Allena into bug thing. Did not mean to, but did."

Wes was worried that this would start them fighting again, but Wilson just slumped his shoulders and shook his head again. "It was my fault for starting the argument. And it all seems so silly, now."

Wolfgang sighed in concurrence. Their will to fight had been quite sapped, it seemed.

Then Wilson looked up and he directed his gaze, now flickering with a dull fire, across the camp. Wes followed it to the object of his attention.

Glommer sat buzzing in a corner of the base. As usual, the creature was unperturbed.

Wes' heart skipped a beat as Wilson walked over to the insectoid creature, which buzzed serenely beside the spotted red blossom on the tool shelf. Before Wes could do anything, Wilson drew back his fist and punched the creature full-on in the side.

It buzzed in alarm, bouncing off the wall, and Wilson punched it again as it rebounded. "Well?" He growled. "That thing seems to be fond of you. It showed up to protect you, didn't it?" His voice was rising, and he punched Glommer once more. "Didn't it?! You filthy, slimy, revolting little—"

He wound up to punch it again, but Wes flung himself over Wilson's outstretched arm to hold it back. Glommer was now swaying alarmingly, and he suspected that the creature would not survive much more abuse.

Wilson stopped and began shaking. He didn't try to punch again. He just stood there, breathing hard, and finally wrenched himself away and stormed towards the entryway. As he went, Wes could have sworn he saw moisture glistening on the man's face.

He grabbed his spear as he stalked past and departed the base. A minute later Wes and Wolfgang both looked towards the forest in mild alarm. A terrible cry had sounded from the direction of the Northwood spider dens. It was wracked with pain and fury, and it caused a horrible pang of grief in Wes's heart.

He may have been a mime of few words, but his thoughts and feelings ran deep. If there was one thing he understood, it was love, and he knew that Wilson loved Allena more than anything in the world. It was why Krampus had taken her.

Truth be told, he did as well. Not in the same way – romantic love was something he was shamefully unfamiliar with for a Frenchman – but he loved her, nonetheless. She understood him. Not sometimes, but all of the time, to a degree no one else ever had. She was kind and bright and sunny, funny and passionate, and she reminded him of home. He'd often thought that being trapped there for the rest of his life would be bearable, provided she was there.

But now she was gone.

Behind him, Wolfgang rumbled sadly and said, "Am going to go fetch some grass and wood for fire before darkness comes." And with that he grabbed a backpack and left. Webber had gone home after Wilson had failed to find any clues leading to Allena, looking dazed and confused, so this left Wes alone. Allena had once mentioned that Webber had lost something of importance to the Red One, and now it seemed he had lost yet more. Webber loved Allena too, though differently than either him or Wilson. Everyone seemed to love her in a slightly different way. It was understandable. Some people were very easy to love.

He felt tears well up in his eyes. He wanted to go after her. He truly did. But how would he start? Which direction would he go?

"My, my. It seems that you've had a visit from Krampus. Nasty brute, if you ask me."

Wes whirled around. Maxwell stood in the middle of the base, an expression of ersatz pity on his ashen face.

Wes clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and – remembering full well what had happened the last time he'd done this – rushed at Maxwell.

He swung, but this time Maxwell was prepared. He dissipated into shadow as the white-gloved fist flew forward, and Wes fell straight through him. He was briefly enveloped in some foul, icy ink, then he was past, whirling around to face the demon again as his form re-solidified.

He tsk'd. "Honestly, I come here with the best of intentions and this is how I'm met? Aren't you even going to ask why I – oh, yes, that's right. You're the mute."

Wes was positively seething. Maxwell!

He may not have been able to speak, but he did a pretty good job conveying exactly what he thought of the man through a series of gestures that even Wilson would have been able to interpret.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Oh, dear. Your mother would wash your hands out with soap, no doubt. Well, if you aren't interested in hearing me out, I suppose I'll be on my way. I'm sure Allena will be able to find her own way back, one way or the other…" He turned to go.

Wes froze. Maxwell had a way to get Allena back?

An inner conflict immediately raged to life in him. Maxwell was a low-down dirty snake and certainly did not have anyone's best interest at heart, aside from his own. On the other hand, he was a powerful low-down dirty snake. If anyone could get Allena back, it was him.

The demon was walking towards the door. A symbolic gesture, of course. They both knew he didn't need to walk.

Wes stepped forward to stop him, but forced himself to stay still.

 _No,_ Wes decided. He'd let him walk right out the base. Maxwell's interventions had never led to anything but trouble. He looked down at his feet as the tall, black-suited man strolled towards the door, and—

A carved magpie lay at his feet. He'd missed it while he'd been cleaning up the mess, and now its polished wooden eye stared up at him. Allena had told him how magpies were her favorite, how she used to go birdwatching at home, how she knew all the local species by name and call and how she'd take him out and teach them all to him when they got home…

He bent down to pick the magpie up. His hand shook as he inspected it.

Just as Maxwell reached the exit, the wooden magpie flew across the base and struck the stone beside his head.

He paused and turned to Wes, who stood beside the firepit glaring silver daggers at him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his expression was thunderous, and he was tapping his foot.

Grey met grey, and Maxwell grinned. "I take it this means you are interested. Delightful."

Wes narrowed his eyes.

Maxwell rolled his. "Impatient? Very well. I have something that I believe will help you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, battered compass.

Wes craned his neck and looked at it as Maxwell meandered over to him, holding it up. The needle drooped, moveless. The thing was broken.

Wes, tired of the games, spat on the ground and made to brush past him, but as he did Maxwell's hand shot up and grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, pal. Didn't your mother ever teach you that patience was a virtue? Sit still for a second."

And he flung Wes back onto his arse.

Wes staggered back to his feet, dazed. Maxwell was much stronger than he looked.

The man dropped the compass, and one of his shadowy hands shot out of the ground and caught it. It flattened its palm, acting as a table. Maxwell, with a great flourish, pulled a book out of nowhere. He held it by the spine and let the covers drop to either side, then held his hand over the tome. The pages started flipping slowly of their own volition, and Maxwell's eyes scanned them closely.

He found what he was looking for. "Ah! There it is…"

He cleared his throat, held the book in front of the compass, and began chanting.

Whatever he was saying, it was in Latin, that much Wes knew. Most of the words were strange to him, but there were a few roots he was familiar with. Liber – book. Feminae – woman. Animatus – alive, animated. Lucidum – bright, clear…

And one he'd learned from his father: Venatio – hunt.

As he spoke, shadows began swirling madly around the book, and as he finished they converged upon the compass. There was a loud _crack_ and a flash of dark light that cause Wes to cover his eyes and cringe. When he opened them, the compass was smoking slightly.

Maxwell picked it up and examined it. "Ah, there we go. Perfect. See?"

He held it out. Now, instead of hanging limply, the needle was pointing unwaveringly in one direction. It was also emitting a light that traveled a few inches along the needle – in this case, north – before fading in the failing light of day.

Wes's heart skipped a beat. Would that compass now lead him to Allena?

He swallowed heavily and, against his better judgement, grabbed for it.

Maxwell snatched it back with a laugh. "Come, now! You don't think I'm just going to give this to you that easily, do you? No, no, no. I'll let you have it, but you must know how it works first."

Wes forced himself to pause. Then he crossed his arms and glared at Maxwell.

"Good. Now, first off, it will only last five days. After that you're out of luck, and I would strongly recommend you set out as quickly as possible. Second, a little touch of my own – it will break instantly if you tell anyone about it. Do you understand?"

Wes nodded impatiently and grabbed for it, but Maxwell once again pulled it away. This time his he emitted a pulse of cold energy. His pupils and irises contracted until his eyes were nearly white, and he took on a dire expression.

Wes shivered. His wrists seemed to burn in remembrance of the shadowy manacles that had ensnared them for so long. Maxwell's manacles.

When the demon spoke again his voice echoed slightly, as though coming out of a deep crevice in the earth. "Listen, pal. I want to make sure I'm being perfectly clear on this. You go alone, and you go now, or you can forget about it. That clear?"

Wes froze. Maxwell wanted him to go alone? He couldn't possibly. He couldn't survive—

No. That wasn't true. It was spring, after all, and he'd made it two months on his own during his first spring, and that was with nothing but the clothes on his back and his bag of balloons. Now, even with the meager supplies that remained at his disposal, he would stand a far greater chance.

Five days. He would find Allena in five days, or not at all. Five days out, another five back – he could survive alone for ten days, surely?

But Maxwell wouldn't be offering if he thought that Wes actually stood a chance. He bit his lip. He wanted it, but…

Maxwell sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were normal again. "No doubt you're wondering about my motives…as though it's so hard to believe I'd do something out of the goodness of my heart! I'm wounded."

His voice no longer echoed, though it still retained an unnerving undertone. He shook his head in disappointment. "Very well. If you must know, I find myself irked. You see, Allena and I made a little bargain a while back, and I'm eager to see it carried out. But the thing it, Krampus isn't one of my creations, and he has the annoying little habit of hoarding things he likes. And as we both know, that girl is _very_ likeable."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Wes's face twisted up in revulsion. _Bastard._

"That simply won't do," Maxwell continued with a theatrical wag of his finger. "And besides, Allena may not have told you this, but she and I get along swimmingly! If she ends up dying in a cramped little cave and being strung up on Krampus's wall, whoever will I have tea with on quiet spring evenings?"

He thrust out his lip and pouted, and Wes, at a loss for gestures, stuck his tongue out at him.

Still…

His instinct clashed with his desire, his head with his heart, and he found himself an instant away from hurtling his fist once more at Maxwell's big, stupid hooked nose. He clenched his fist, pulled it back—

And swiped the compass from Maxwell's outstretched hand.

The demon's mouth curved up into a wide, wicked grin. "Good choice, pal. Now, why don't you head out? It's getting dark, and you'd do well to get gone before your friends get back."

Wes looked at the compass for a moment, then sprang into action. He grabbed the only backpack they had left – Allena's own backpack, strong and spacious, lightweight and waterproof. He dumped most of her belongings unceremoniously on the ground and took only what he needed from the stash – her flashlight and the miraculous 'solar charger' she'd told him about, a few of their leftover tools, a large, full water canteen, the first aid kit, plenty of flint, and a handful of other goods.

He paused as he passed Glommer. Would he last ten days in Wilson's company, given his unintentional role in Allena's disappearance? Wes wasn't sure he would.

He grabbed Glommer's flower and stowed it carefully in his black bag, cushioned on his balloons. The last thing he grabbed, and no doubt Wilson and Wolfgang would go mad when they returned, was the remaining jerky stores. Enough for five days if he stretched it thin. He'd pick up more food along the way.

He rolled up his sleeping bag, tied it to the pack, and made for the entrance. He shot past Maxwell without a glance.

A low, spine-chilling chuckle sounded behind him, disturbing enough that Wes was forced to stop and look back.

Maxwell was gone.

In spite of the man's absence, Wes shivered. He felt certain he was still being watched.

With no further hesitation, he left the base.

* * *

"I know that the cage isn't comfy for you, but perhaps you'd feel better with some nice hot stew?"

Allena lifted her head from her arms to see the brown creature standing at her cage with a steaming bowl of stew. He was holding it out at arm's length, just outside the bars of the cage. His neck was craned down, and he was looking up at her imploringly.

Her stomach was hollow. Frankly, everything felt hollow, but her stomach in particular. She'd woken up a few hours ago and spent a while tinkering with the lock, swinging the cage to try to reach a nearby shelf, and blatantly shoving her feet against the door in an attempt to force it open. It had worn her out, and her efforts had had no effect. She was trapped.

She reached out and took the stew with one hand. There was a spoon in the bowl so she could feed herself, though the setup was a bit uncomfortable. She wasn't feeling terribly grateful, but it went against her nature to let a decent gesture pass unnoticed. "Thank you," she said, voice a bit cracked. She wasn't exactly claustrophobic, but the confines of the cage weren't generous, and it was grating on her as badly as any injury she'd ever sustained.

The creature nodded. "I hope that it will help…though I suspect it will not. Being caged is not much fun."

"No. It isn't."

She ate the stew silently. It was good, and she wondered where the creature had gotten it. Had he made it himself? Stolen it?

When she was done she offered the bowl back to the creature, who stood watching her expectantly. He took it, and she returned to her previous position – legs crossed and tucked close to her chest, elbows on her knees, forehead resting on her forearm.

There was silence as the creature stood there, waiting. Krampus had gone out a while ago, so they were alone.

After a few minutes he spoke again. "Are you thirsty? I can fetch you some water. Or some blankets, if you need to be hotter."

She sighed. Her new companion liked rhyming, it seemed. "Water would be nice, thank you."

He hopped away at once, returning with a large cup and what looked to be a long swirly straw, the kind she'd loved as a child. He poked the straw through the bars, and she leaned forward to drink. When the bowl was empty she returned to her previous position again.

"…is there anything else I can do for you?"

"You can let me out of here," she said. She suspected she already knew what the answer would be, but it was worth a shot.

Her response was met with a whine. "That...I cannot do for you."

Her heart fell as the small flicker of hope she'd been harboring sputtered and died. "Yeah, I figured."

He was quiet and still for another minute. Then she heard his hooves clicking quietly around the cave. There was a bit of rustling and a few clunks, presumably as he rooted through some of the piles of Krampus's junk. Then he returned to her. "There are many nice things here. Would you like to see?"

She looked up, mild curiosity seeping through the pain of the iron bars digging into her limbs. He was holding out several articles, and his arms were full of more. There were three necklaces draped from his fingers, one of gold, one wooden and strung with grass, and one of some odd orange metal that seemed to glow slightly in the dark.

As interesting as she might have found the glowing necklace under normal circumstances, she couldn't bring herself to care very much just then. "Thanks, but I have one already." She pulled her necklace out of her shirt and showed it to him.

He dropped the other necklaces and leaned forward to inspect it. "Oooh, it is nice! With a gem like ice!"

"Someone I love made it for me."

His fingers had stretched towards it curiously, but now they flinched back. His ears drooped. "You have a loved one back at home?"

"Yes." For the umpteenth time that day her thoughts turned to Wilson. She forced them away and back to the moment. If she focused on him for too long, how afraid he'd be for her…what he might do to get her back…

The creature looked down and began clicking his hoof against the stone, then he shook his head as though clearing water from his ears. He held up something else from his stash – a red toy firetruck. "Look at this! It is one of my favorites. Where does it come from, do you think?"

Huh. This creature wasn't too familiar with things that came from outside the Constant, then. "It comes from a toy store," she explained. "We have them back in my world. A boy who lives across the street from me has one just like it. His even squirts water."

"Squirts water? That seems strange! Why does it do that?"

"It's a firetruck. Firetrucks are made to spray water on fires when they break out."

The creature hummed. He set the truck down and handed something else out to her. "What is this? Do you know?"

She inspected it. It was a Jacob's ladder, but one of the ribbons tying it together had slid off and gotten tangled up. She reached out and took it, jimmied the ribbon back on, took it by the top two pieces and held it out. Then she let one piece go.

The creature gasped and clapped his hands in delight as the wooden pieces clunked down. She still had one of these at home on her desk, and she would fiddle with it absentmindedly while she pondered papers she was writing for school. Some people liked fidget spinners. She was a Jacob's ladder kind of girl.

He took it and tried it himself, white eyes flashing as he toppled it again and again. She went back to cradling her head in her arms. Everything hurt.

The clunking stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was contrite. "I am sorry I cannot do more for you. What is your name, if I may be so bold?"

A flash of pique surged up out of nowhere, melancholy turning to anger in a heartbeat. As much as she loved civility – and this creature certainly seemed to, as well – it was difficult to be civil when one was trapped in a tiny, miserable cage miles and miles from home. "If you aren't going to help me, leave me alone." As an afterthought, she added a clipped but cordial, "Please."

Another whine. "I do not mean to be a pain; but is loneliness not a more miserable bane?"

She looked up and narrowed her eyes at him, and he stepped away from the cage. This thing liked rhymes? She had one for him. "I don't care for people who are kind in one breath, and in the next consign me to _death."_

He looked quite dismayed. "Death? Death? Oh, no, no, no. Things are not so bad here! I will bring you food every day, and water, and curious things with which you can play! And blankets for cold nights, and ice for hot day—"

"All while watching me waste away, far from the people with whom I want to stay," she finished.

He winced, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he offered her a shaky smile. "You are very good with rhyme. Do you employ it much of the time?"

She glared at him a moment more, then slumped back into her mandatory relaxation, anger vanishing as quickly as it came. Looked like the mood swings were starting back up. "I like poetry, and I spend a lot of time reading. I suppose when you have a decent vocabulary and a poetic soul, these things come naturally enough."

He twiddled his thumbs and twitched his nose. "A poetic soul, you say? How lovely. Would you tell me a poem?"

_Love has Earth to which she clings, with hills and circling arms about…wall within wall to shut fear out…_

For a moment she found it hard to breathe. Then she sighed deeply. "I'm really not in the mood for it."

His expression fell. He clicked his claws a few times then said, "My name is Wortox. You do not need to give me yours. I know that names are awfully important, and I suppose you do not have much left to call your own."

Wortox. An odd name for an odd creature. It vaguely occurred to her that almost everyone she'd met so far had a name beginning with 'W,' and she wondered why.

It wasn't important. "It's fine. Sharing it doesn't lessen it's worth. My name is Allena. Allena Jones."

Wortox's eyes widened. "Allena Jones? You have two names! And you share them both? Your soul is generous as well as poetic!"

She realized that under other circumstances, she probably would have liked this creature. Wortox. But these weren't other circumstances, and her arse was hurting horribly from being sat on it for so long. She shifted around, desperately trying to reach a more comfortable – or at least different – position. As she got a leg under her to take the weight off of the most pained part of herself, however, she felt the muscles in her calves contort into a horrendous Charlie horse.

She flumped back down with a gasp of pain and groaned, rubbing the muscle and trying to stretch it out. With no room to move her legs, however, she wasn't having much luck.

Wortox made a noise of alarm as tears sprang into her eyes. "Oh, dear. Oh, dear, oh dear. You are not doing well, I fear…"

A deep, foul laugh sounded from the mouth of the cave, and Wortox cringed and turned around. Krampus was clomping back into the cave, bag swaying on his back. He said something in a whatever language the two had been speaking earlier, and Wortox responded in the same tongue.

Wortox pointed at her as she sat massaging the still cramping muscle, and Krampus walked over and peered in at her. His face was blurred through her tears.

He said, "Guest would like to move around a bit? Yeah?"

She groaned and nodded.

Bad decision. Krampus nodded seriously, stepped back, and with sudden movement hopped up and slammed his hooves into the cage.

It flew violently back into the wall and began swinging and twisting around, bashing into the rock every few seconds. She'd seen the sudden movement and had tucked her head in so she wouldn't be knocked out again, but everything else was slammed roughly into the iron bars as her container rocked like a jilted tilt-a-whirl.

Wortox cried out angrily and she saw a blur of brown hop on top of the cage. He'd grabbed the chain and was bracing himself against the wall, trying to slow the cage down and stop it swinging.

Krampus laughed. "How cruel you are to our guest, Wortox! She is moving, yeah?"

Wortox snapped something in their foreign tongue and Krampus laughed again. The cage slowed down and stopped, as did her Charlie horse, and she sat panting heavily in the cage as the two walked away carrying on a heated and unintelligible debate.

This went on for a long while, Krampus snarling and spitting when he grew agitated, Wortox warbling and bleating. After nearly an hour, Krampus stopped abruptly. His ears flicked towards the cave entrance and a crooked grin spread slowly across his face. Wortox said something and Krampus replied, "Yeah. Come along, why don't you? Take your mind off your troubles."

But Wortox shook his head, crossing his arms and turning away with a huff. "Suit yourself," Krampus growled, clearly annoyed. He clomped towards the exit.

As he passed her, he leered at her. "I will be back later, tiny one. Let you out of your cage for a while if you promise to be sweet."

A shiver ran up her spine at the way his eyes flashed, and rage welled up in her stomach.

Krampus tilted his head in confusion at the strange, wet snarl that welled up in her throat – then roared in fury as she hocked a massive, stew-smelling loogy right across his nose. He wiped it clear, bounced, and once again slammed his hooves into her cage before bounding out of the cave.

Wortox ran to her and grabbed the cage to stop it rocking again. When her eyes stopped rolling in her head, she saw that his expression was torn between misery and amusement. "Even knowing what he'd do, still you coat his face with goo?" He shook his head and chuckled weakly. "Good for you."

She snorted, then turned her head and spat again, this time on the floor. She'd bitten her tongue badly on the last blow and what came out was more blood than saliva.

Wortox saw this and his shoulders drooped. Then he perked up. "I can fix this! Wait right here."

He pranced away and came back with what Allena recognized as some of the very spider salve that Krampus had stolen from them. "Thanks," she said drily as Wortox thrust this through the cage bars.

She smeared the salve on her tongue and what few minor abrasions she could reach. Then she asked, "I take it he's off on another raid?"

Wortox nodded. "Yes. He often steals from naughty campers. Bad, bad, bad."

"Campers," she said bitterly. "Right." As though they were out here recreationally. "I noticed he invited you along. Do you often go with him?"

Again, Wortox nodded. "Yes, now and then for fun, I join him for a grab-and-run."

She scowled at him. "So you're a thief."

He frowned thoughtfully, then shook his head. "We only take from bad people. If you do wrong to innocent things – like your friend who ate the butterfly wings – then we may drop by."

"Just because the people you rob have done something wrong doesn't mean you aren't a thief. Justified theft is still theft."

Wortox looked surprised at this. "That is not what Krampus says, oh no, no, no."

She cocked her head at him. "Oh? And do you think that Krampus has a strong moral compass?"

Wortox looked confused. "Moral compass? What is that?"

Her irritation was replaced with curiosity. Wortox didn't know what a moral compass was? She bit her lip, considering how best to describe it for him, but when she didn't reply immediately he turned and bounced away. He rooted through several piles of junk, picking up objects and examining them, then returned to her when his arms were full of…

Compasses.

He held them out to her. "Which of these is a moral compass? I'm sure we must have one around here somewhere."

The corner of her mouth actually twitched up, threatening a smile in spite of her wretched situation. "No, Wortox. A moral compass isn't something you can find lying around, or take from someone else."

"Oh. Can you make one for me, then?"

She shook her head. "No. It's something you're born with. Some people have a weaker one, and they have a lot of difficulty differentiating between right and wrong. Some people have a strong one, and no matter what anyone says or does, it will always point them in the right direction."

Wortox dropped all the compasses but one. This one was shiny and golden – obviously from the outside world. "Oh. Which direction is the right one? Which? Which?"

Now Allena laughed in earnest, though it was tinged with bitterness. "Wortox, people have been asking that question for a long time. I could spend hours debating it with you. Some people believe that morality is relative, that right and wrong change with time and context. Other people believe that morality is absolute, and that anyone who tells you otherwise is probably trying to manipulate you into believing something is right or wrong when it's not."

Wortox pondered this for a long moment. Then he asked, "What do you believe?"

She closed her eyes. What did she believe…?

She opened her eyes and looked at the compass in his hand. "Do you have a magnet in here?"

Wortox hopped away at once. He came back with a magnet, one of the old-fashioned horseshoe-shaped red and white ones. "Yes!"

She held out her hand for the compass. He obliged and she held the device of glass and gold out, flat on her palm so Wortox could see.

"Which way is north?" She asked.

He looked at the needle. It pointed firmly in one direction, towards the back of the cave, only wobbling slightly with the movements of her arm. He pointed along the needle. "That way."

She nodded, then held her hand out for the magnet. He handed it to her, and she put it against the side of the compass.

The needle whirled around to face the magnet. "Now which way is north?"

Wortox stared at the compass for a very long, quiet moment. He looked confused. Then, hesitantly, he pointed north again, in contradiction of the needle.

She said nothing else, simply handing the magnet and compass back to him.

He stared down at them, the compass in one hand, the magnet in the other.

He continued looking back and forth at them for several minutes, and after a while Allena allowed her gaze to travel along the many shelves that adorned the walls. Her eyes kept coming back to the one that held Wolfgang's honey jar, though. The golden shelf that had only four objects.

"Wortox, is there something special about that shelf?"

Wortox looked up, startled out of his reverie, and followed her gaze. "Which…? Oh! Yes! The shelf of gold! That contains items that are not so old. The rest are from people long-since passed, but not the ones on the shelf gold-cast. The owners of those are living still, and stay on that shelf 'till that changes, they will."

"Those all belong to people still alive in the Constant?"

He nodded.

Something occurred to her, and she pointed at the picture frame that sat beside the honey jar. "Wortox, may I see the picture?"

He brought it to her at once, though he was very careful with it. No doubt Krampus considered these objects of greatest importance. She pulled it through the bars of the cage and examined it.

She knew at once what it was, and it was more than just the residual webs still clinging to it. It was a picture of a family, a mother and a father holding hands with their little boy. The boy in the picture couldn't have been older than three. He was being held up by his parents, who were smiling and laughing.

_Big red meanie went to spider nests, stole much webbing and meats and many of Webber's things! Big red meanie took Webber's picture of…_

Allena's throat tightened as she looked down at the picture. Wortox was watching her, perhaps a bit nervously, so she handed the picture back to him. He returned it quickly to the shelf. "It is a nice picture," he said. "It has been here longer than anything else on the golden shelf. I do not know if—"

"Wortox, I need to go home."

He petered off. "Hmm?"

She swallowed heavily. "I need to go home. Please, Wortox. I have people waiting for me. I have people who need me to be there for them. And I need them, too. I can't stay here. Please."

Wortox took a step back with each sentence, ears drooping more and more. "Ah, I cannot let you go. Krampus would come back, and Krampus would know…"

She kicked the bars of the cage, making him jump. Her calf spasmed once again into a Charlie horse. "Please, Wortox! I need to get out of here. You say you punish naughty people. But Wilson, Webber, Wolfgang, Wes…none of them did anything to merit the loss of a friend. And tell me, what did _I_ do to deserve this?"

He swallowed. "Krampus said—"

Her temper broke. She screeched and flung herself against the bars again, swinging the cage outward and causing it to fall back and bump against the stone wall behind her. She did this again and again, the movement mindless and automatic, panic and fury redoubling with each futile exertion.

Wortox bleated in alarm and rushed forward, grabbing the cage and trying to still it. She snarled in fury, reached out, and grabbed his ears.

She pulled his face flush with the cage, rage welling in her, and her muscles tensed as she got ready to tug, rip, pull until he couldn't take any more—

His white eyes stared into hers, and she stared back. His eyes were wide with shock, alarm, confusion, doubt.

She didn't know what he saw in her eyes, but…

She let go of his ears and he stumbled back. She slumped back against the bars of the cage. She drew her knees up again, crossed her arms in front of her, and buried her face in them.

Wortox did not speak again; but going by the lack of hoof-clicks on stone, he did not leave, either.


	29. The Tyger

By the end of the week, Allena was off food.

It wasn't that she was making a statement, or trying to upset Wortox. She just wasn't hungry anymore.

It was the same thing every day. Krampus would leave to torment someone two or three times a day, usually for several hours. She'd learned from Wortox that he traveled outside of the Constant for most of his errands, but he took particular pleasure in this realm. He would return for a while, and twice a day he would let her out of the cage.

She'd made the mistake of trying to run only once. It wasn't a mistake because he got angry – on the contrary, he'd been quite amused. It was a mistake because her legs were so horribly cramped from hours of sitting with them crossed and constricted that she could barely walk, let alone run. By day three she couldn't even stand when she first got out of the cage, and by the end of the week she wasn't able to regain her footing by the time Krampus shoved her back in.

He would only let her out for ten minutes or so, and that partly because he enjoyed watching her crawl about on the ground, and partly because he didn't want her…what had Wilson called it? 'Messing' in the cage. He had a sensitive sense of smell.

Wortox was almost always around when Krampus was, and he made sure he didn't treat her too horribly; but even so, minor abuses slipped past often. Wortox couldn't take his eyes off her for a moment. If he did, he would turn around to see Krampus's tale wrapped tightly around her throat, choking her, and he would have to pry it off while the great red demon stood there and laughed. Krampus would chuck small objects through the bars of the cage, a habit that turned from annoying to agonizing when he brought a dartboard back from one of his raids. He was a good shot, and she always had to cover her face when he got going. She now had so many tiny holes in her arms that she looked like a junkie with bad aim.

Wortox helped her when he could. He brought her food, water, treats, toys. He treated her injuries when Krampus dealt them. He gave her everything a prisoner could ask for.

Except for freedom.

Her mood swings, so much better since Wolfgang and Wes had moved in with them, were now alarmingly frequent, and her feelings towards Wortox changed on a dime. One minute she was glad of his company, amused by his antics, and she believed the best of him – that he really was a decent creature. The next minute he was a foul, shallow, infantile little monster who did nothing but taunt her with the hope of help before tearing it down by kowtowing to his big red 'friend'.

Mostly, however, she was listless and wanted to be left alone.

She thought about home a lot. About sitting by the fire while Wolfgang told stories and frog legs roasted on the open flames; about teaching Webber all sorts of new card games, songs, and jokes; about laughing wildly as Wes performed for them, doing bits that would put Charlie Chaplin to shame; and about Wilson.

Wilson. She'd only been away from him for a week, but with no end in sight the separation was becoming unbearable. Would he blame himself for what had happened? How would he handle it? Would he move along, try to forget about her, work on his machine? Would he come after her? _Could_ he?

She could mostly force him out of her head during the day, but at night it became agony. She missed him. She missed him lying beside her while she slept. She missed the feeling of safety his presence imparted. She missed his groggy good-mornings and tender good-nights. _She_ _missed him._

Wortox seemed to understand this, but whenever she brought up her friends – particularly Wilson, whom she had talked about in great detail a few days prior – he would become oddly deaf and not regain his hearing again until the subject had been changed.

Today he stood by her cage, a cup of turkey soup in his hands, trying to convince her to eat.

"You have not eaten since dinner last night. Are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied tiredly. "I'm just not hungry."

He shook his head. "That cannot be. You did not have breakfast; you did not have lunch. You will not drink water, hot tea, or cold punch. Is something wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

She groaned. "Wortox, please, just leave me alone. I'm not hungry."

His ears drooped, as they often did when he was upset. They'd been drooping a lot lately. "Maybe Krampus will let you out again before bed? Or I can fetch you a story that you haven't yet read—"

"Wortox, please!" She snapped, temper flaring. "I don't want food, I don't want books, and honestly, I don't feel like spending the evening being humiliated by Krampus." Krampus had left just a few minutes before, and she wasn't eager for him to come back, even if it meant a few more minutes to stretch her legs.

Wortox set the bowl down on a small table he'd dragged over for her. She could reach small objects on it through the bars, though he only set it up when Krampus was out. Otherwise he would probably just smash the table to spite them both. "Then what do you want?" Wortox implored. "What can I do, for you, for you?"

She looked at him coldly. "You know what I want."

He blinked his wide white eyes and swallowed. "I…can bring you the picture again, perhaps. Or a taste of some honey, or…"

He trailed off, thinking. It was only when he was nervous or upset that he had trouble rhyming.

She grumbled and buried her head in her arms. It had been getting harder and harder to get him to leave her alone. He wouldn't let her be for more than an hour or two at a time during the day, and any time she woke up at night she had to be careful. If she made a single noise, he'd wake up and be on her again.

Finally he recouped. "There are many ways we could pass the eve, no need to mope, or weep, or grieve. We could tell stories by firelight, tales of laughter, tales of fright, tales of darkness battling light! Or maybe a battle of rhymes we could fight? You are good at such things, so bright, so bright! Or perhaps discuss the—"

Finally, she jerked her head up. "Wortox, why do you do that?"

He stopped mid-rhyme. "Do what? Make rhymes?"

"Keep talking to me when I've made it clear I don't want to be talked to. You know that it bothers me, you know I want to be left alone. Why do you keep doing it?"

He leaned back, nostrils flaring as his nose twitched. He looked surprised by the question. "You wish to know why I talk to you…?"

"When I don't want to be talked to, yes."

He opened his mouth to reply at once, then stopped. One of his ears went sideways, then straightened out as the other one went sideways. He flopped them back and forth like that for at least a minute. Finally, he said, "Because I like to. You are kind, you are clever, you know quite a lot. You always have an intriguing thought, or poem, or song to pass the time. And you are the only human I've met who likes, as much as me, to rhyme."

She stared at him for a long moment. Wortox was a very strange companion, and she often found him difficult to understand, but she thought she understood him a bit better. "I see," she said, yawning. "Thank you."

A wave of mild lethargy was washing over her again. Like the loss of appetite, these had become much more common, and she wondered what they would culminate in. She rolled her neck to relieve some tension, curled up, and tried to return to ignoring Wortox.

He let out a baffled whimper, obviously not ready to end the conversation. "Thank you? Thank you? What have I said? And why do you insist on hiding your head?"

When she didn't respond he came close to the cage and stuck his nose right up against it. He started breathing deeply, and she felt puffs of warm air whistling through her hair. This was one of his more annoying habits, something he did when he absolutely wasn't willing to end their conversation without an answer to whatever question he had. He wouldn't leave her alone until he understood what was on her mind.

She lifted her head and squeezed her eyes shut against another rush of warm air. He stepped back and she said, "I've been wrestling with a question since I got here, and I think I just got the answer. And even though I don't like it, I'm glad to have it. Sometimes uncertainty can be worse than the worst possible answer."

"Question? What question do you ask? And what was the answer I gave?"

The soup he'd brought her was just in reach, and she took it reluctantly knowing that if she didn't eat something before she went to sleep then she'd probably be up with hunger pangs in a few hours. She maneuvered the spoon though the bars and took a sip. "The soup is good, thank you. And I've been wondering whether you would ever help me get free, and I've decided that, based on what you said, the answer is no. You never will."

He shook his head rapidly, not in denial but in befuddlement. "What? What? Why do you decide this now? What did I say to make you believe this, that I have not said before?"

She funneled the rest of the soup into her mouth, barely tasting it, and she sensed the hunger that her emotions were blunting recede. "I asked you why you talked to me when I don't want you to, and you said, in essence, 'because you wanted to'. That tells me everything I need to know."

His white eyes stared blankly at her as he struggled to comprehend, and she sighed and elaborated. "Wortox, you obviously don't believe I deserve to be punished. If you did, you wouldn't be so nice to me every day. You obviously aren't overly afraid of Krampus, because you have no problem kicking his tail and standing up to him when he's cruel to me. But you've proven that your own amusement is more important to you than my comfort, as evidenced by your unwillingness to leave me alone when I want to be left alone. I figure that's at the core of why you won't let me out, too – not because you think I don't deserve to be free, or because you're afraid of standing up to Krampus, but because, simply put…you don't really want to."

She said all of this evenly, and as she did she expected a surge of disgust, or contempt, or anger at the little imp to well up in her. But it didn't. All she felt was…disappointment.

And tired. She felt tired. She tucked her head back in and tried to go to sleep.

Her answer didn't seem to be good enough for Wortox, however. "Oh, no, no, no. That is not it. I do not…"

He trailed off. Then he tried again. "I cannot let you out, because if I do then Krampus will – he will – he will be…eh…"

He didn't seem to agree with her assessment of him, but he also didn't seem able to articulate why. She just started to drown out his mumbling and nod off when he bounced up to her cage and prodded her head.

With a sigh of resignation she looked up at him. Maybe she would have to write off sleep as well as freedom now, too.

He seemed desperate for something to do. He asked her, "Please, please, what can I do? What can I get, for you, for you?"

She really wanted to sleep. Maybe if she gave him a genuine task, he would leave her alone when he was done. She thought about it for a moment, then frowned as she hit upon something that she really _would_ appreciate. "Wortox, do you know where my camp is? Where my friends still are?"

He rolled his head around for a moment as though in thought. Then he said, "Yes, I think I do. I can find it if I try. But why? But why?"

She said, "If I'm never going to see my friends again, I'd like a chance to say goodbye. Could you bring me some papers and a pen?"

He blinked, unanswering, but as quickly and gracefully as ever he darted around the cave gathering all she had asked for. Papers of reed, silk, and wood pulp. Pencils and pens and quills and inkwells. All of these things he gathered up into a large armful and brought to her. She even saw, with some amusement, that he had brought envelopes, blue sealing wax, and a stamp with what looked like a swan insignia on it.

He pushed all of these things haphazardly into the cage, and she took the cumulative sheaf of paper and set it against her leg. Then she selected a couple of good writing utensils, set the envelopes and sealing wax aside, and took a deep breath.

What would she write?

She had selected a quill pencil for the job, one made with a crow's feather, and she inspected this closely. It was dirty. She wiped the dust off of it carefully and, content that it was clean, dusted the feather tip along her lips as she pondered. After a few minutes, she began writing.

For the first time in hours, Wortox fell silent and even withdrew a fair bit to allow her room to think and write. Krampus would ideally be gone for a few more hours, so she was clear on that front for a while.

To her intense relief, she was able to finish writing before anything could interrupt her. She finished and held the letters up in front of her. There were four – one to Wes, one to Wilson, one to Wolfgang, and one to Webber. She had attached a P.S. to Wilson's asking him to read Webber's aloud for him, as she suspected that Webber would very likely not be able to read it himself. He had, after all, vanished before he was old enough to attend school, and she doubted that either Maxwell or Spider-Mama had provided him with a formal education.

She considered asking Wortox to return the picture of Webber's family to him but decided against it. She was already not sure he would actually consent to taking these. She sealed them off, Wortox kind enough to provide a flame to melt the wax onto the envelopes so she could stamp them.

She signed the backs and handed him the envelopes. "Please, Wortox, will you take these to my friends? I'll stop asking you to let me go, and I'll stop talking about them if you do this for me."

He looked at the letters as though they were the most fascinating things he'd come across in Krampus's hoard so far. He traced the wax swan insignia on one with his claw. He splayed them out in a fan, stacked them up, held them under the light, smelled them – you'd think they were made of gold, or some other precious material, rather than just paper.

She frowned as she saw an absurd amount of desire flash briefly in his eyes; then he blinked, and it was gone. She wondered why the letters fascinated him so.

He nodded, slowly. "Very well. Deliver your letters, I shall. But Krampus will be back soon. It would be wiser to wait until the morrow."

She shook her head, relief welling up in her at his agreement. "I don't care. Get them to my friends as quickly as possible. Just give them all to Wilson, the man in the red vest. He'll distribute them."

He nodded, grabbed a satchel, placed the letters in it, and took off out the door.

The descriptor she'd used stuck with her. The man in the red vest. How long had it been since she'd called him that? It was amazing to think she'd once feared Wilson as much as she now feared Krampus, or Maxwell.

As she watched Wortox vanish into the early evening she smiled, though her eyes stung. She may never see Wilson again…but at least she was able to say goodbye.

* * *

Wortox left the cave and hopped down the first ledge of the descent, then stopped and sat down on a nearby rock. He lifted the flap of his satchel and pulled out the letters.

He would deliver them, he would, he would. But first…

He smelled them. They smelled delightful. Well, it wasn't a smell, per-se, but it was something. A sense that he couldn't quite place, something that called to him in a way he had seldom felt before. They just seemed alive in a way normal paper was not. Alive, warm, awake…

_…Soulful._

He shivered and, with no further ado, broke the wax seal.

He winced as the imprinted blue swan splintered and split. The action had caused an odd sensation to run up his spine, but he shook it off and pulled out the letter. He had brought the rest of the wax, the stamp, and a little silver lighter that Krampus had stolen from someone years prior. He would reseal the letters when he was done, and no one would know the difference.

_You will._

He shivered again, this time in anticipation. He hadn't looked at the name on the back before opening this one, but the name was at the top. It simply began, 'Webber'.

He settled down to read.

_Webber,_   
_I am so sorry I've been gone for so long. I know you're probably worrying about me, but please try not to. It might be a long time before I can come home…_

Home? Home? Was she not giving up on the idea of home? Did she believe she could still do it? Get back to them?

He continued reading.

_…but when I do we'll sing songs, play games, and have a week-long sleepover, with bees and honey and all of your favorite things. I promise! But in the meantime, be sure to keep your chin up and stay cheerful, okay? Wes, Wilson, Wolfgang – they're all your friends, and they'll be there for you when you're feeling down._

_I'm doing okay where I am. I have a big, bright cave, even nicer and comfier than yours! And I've made a new friend, he brings me toys and games and treats, and takes very good care of me…_

Wortox's nose twitched. This wasn't right. Not at all. Where were the lamentations? Were there no mentions of her sorrows, her strife? Her cramped confinement, her daily pains? He skimmed through the rest of the letter looking for such things, such truths, but all he found were words of comfort, and promises of good times to come. At the last she tasked her Wilson with reading him some lyrics, and he turned the letter over to see a song written upon the back of the paper. It spoke of walks in the woods, counting bees and chasing clouds, and other such frivolities.

_...Lots of love,_   
_Allena_

He let out a small puff of air through his nose, replaced the letter, and pulled out another.

_Hey Wes!_ _I'm sorry I've been gone so long. I miss you. A good mime is just about the only thing this place doesn't have…_

_…Please don't worry about me, I'm fine where I am, I think about you guys every day…_

_…I'll be home as soon as I can be, but please don't wait for me, it might be a long while…_

_With love,_   
_Allena_

He started quietly clicking his teeth as he pulled out the next letter.

_Wolfgang!_   
_I hope your base is coming along well, and I desperately hope you and Wilson don't blame yourselves for what happened. Krampus comes along to visit everyone eventually…you should see all the stuff in here! Your honey-jar is quite safe, he's put it up on his shelf of honor beside the picture of Webber's parents. You won't believe it, but he was the cutest little kid…_

_…I'll be back as soon as I can, though it may be a while. Please, help Wilson on his machine, don't wait for me. With his brain and your brawn, I have no doubt you'll get it up and running in no time…_

_…I miss you very much, and when I get home I'll celebrate by singing all night long if you'd like…_

_Much love,_   
_Allena_

His claws trembled slightly as he sliced the wax seal from the last letter and pulled it free.

_Wilson,_   
_I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry about leaving you behind. I think about you every day, but I don't worry about you. I know that you'll be okay. All I ask is that you don't worry about me. I'm happy and safe here, I have everything I need, and as soon as I'm able I'll come home to you. It might take a long time, though, so please don't wait for me. Build the machine. Get home, if you can. From what I've learned here, there are other ways out of the Constant. Krampus travels to Earth every day to torment people, I'm sure I can find a way out myself, and wherever you end up, I'll find you. I promise._

_Take care of the others, especially Webber. I think he may have taken to me as a mother figure, and I'm worried about how my disappearance may have affected him. Now that I'm able to write this letter to you, though, I can stop worrying – I know he's in good hands. You're the kindest man I've ever met. I know things will turn out okay…_

_…Work on the machine, and watch out for Maxwell and his creations…_

_…As I've told you before, whatever happens, I don't regret a minute of it…_

_…I'll see you again, maybe not soon, but eventually…_

_…I don't know if I ever said as much, but I want to make sure it's clear now, since this is likely the only letter I'll be able to send to you; I love you._

A powerful shudder rocked Wortox's frame as he read the words, and he read them again several times.

_I love you more than just about anyone I've ever met, and I want you to be happy. So please, don't wait for me; use your pair of dauntless wings, and get everyone home. Don't worry about me; build wall within wall, to shut fear out._

_I'll come back to you. I promise._

_Allena_

_P.S. Would you read Webber his letter, and the song whenever he asks? I don't think he can read._

Wortox sat there as night fell properly. Krampus had not yet returned, though no doubt he would soon.

A chill wind was beginning to rip around the mountain as the evening air cooled, and with it came a whistling howl. He had long perceived this familiar howl as haunting, but playful. A lovely melody to listen to on otherwise silent nights. But tonight, it sounded…distinctly unkind.

He stood up. He replaced the last letter in its original envelope, but he did not seal any of them as he had intended to do. No. He needed to understand.

He hopped back up to the cave entrance. Krampus had magical fires that came to life when it got dark, to ward off the pesky shadows, and these had already come on. Allena sat hunched in her cage in the flickering firelight, sleeping. Normally he would let her rest, yes, yes, but not now. He had to understand.

He walked up and snorted warm air on her hair. It took a minute or two for her to stir. Finally, her head lifted groggily, and she peered at him through sleepy eyes. "Wortox…? What are you doing back so soon?"

He lifted the letters, saying nothing, and braced for her anger. She would be mad, yes, but he had to understand.

She stared at them, uncomprehending for several moments. Her confusion deepened upon her brow. "Are those my…?"

She understood, he saw, when she noticed the broken seals. He waited for the rage, the yelling, the shouting. He tensed his shoulders, clapped his ears against his skull…

…and nothing happened.

She stared at the letters silently, so silently, and gradually an expression came into her face that he had not expected. It was not anger, it was not rage – it was hurt.

"You read my letters," she said, voice void of inflection. "You didn't take them to my friends."

He swallowed heavily. This reaction was taking him quite by surprise, and he stepped back from the potency of that gaze. It was worse, by far, than when Krampus poked her full of little holes. Worse than when he kicked her and choked her. Worse even than the first time she found she could not stand when she was let out of the cage. She was terribly hurt. And he had done it.

He pouted. "I am sorry, so sorry. I meant to take them, still I will, but I had to know first what they held."

Her gaze turned bleak, and when she spoke her voice was empty. "And did you enjoy what you found?"

He tilted his head. "I do not understand what I found. You are sad here, yes? Often you are hurt, often you are scared. But these letters say nothing of sadness and hurt. They speak of good times, and are full of happy promises. Why? Why do you lie to your friends? Why do you not tell them of your suffering?"

Her gaze intensified, and he was again forced to take a step back. When she replied, her voice was as cold as the snowy winds that danced about the mountain. "Because, Wortox, that would be selfish." She clenched her fist and continued, "There is nothing they can do for me, and nothing I can do for them. Nothing but try to make sure they don't worry about me. Yes, I want them to think of me. And yes, it can be comforting to know that other people understand what you're going through when you're in pain. It makes you feel less alone. But if they knew what was happening here, what I really had to endure, then it would hurt them, Wortox. It would _hurt them."_

He took a third step back, wincing. She took a deep breath and concluded, voice now shaking, "So yes. I'll lie. I'll tell them everything is okay when it's not. I'll tell them to go home without me, not to wait for me, that I'll catch up with them later, even though it kills me to know I'll never see them again. Because I would rather they live happily even if that means I die alone, without anyone I love knowing what happened to me."

Again, a powerful shudder racked his body, this time with a mild wave of nausea. "I don't understand," he whimpered.

Her gaze mellowed. Her voice steadied, and she said, "I don't expect you to. When you love someone, you're willing to sacrifice just about everything for them. And however kind you might be, however playful, and bright, and attentive…you aren't a loving kind of creature."

He doubled over as though her words had dealt him a physical blow.

Not loving? Not loving? His mother had told him that love was very important. That love was just about the most important thing in the world. Every world, ever.

_Father laughed at the very thought. Love? He scoffed at such paltry nothings…_

He shook himself to get rid of the crawling feeling that was coursing through his fur. He'd been getting it more and more as of late. The sense of something skittering around beneath his skin, too deep to see, a feeling from which he could not flee. He moaned low, looking up to see Allena curling back into herself, away from him. Away, away.

_Bother her! Pester her! She will listen, yes? She will play funny little word games with you, look at the toys you bring her, eat the food you give her. A lovely little pet!_

He groaned, turned, and stumbled away, clutching his stomach. The nausea was gone. He was hungry now. Very, very hungry.

The light was bright, too bright, but the darkness was ever so cold. He sat a little ways away from the torches that burned to ward off the dark. The firelight flickered strangely on his fur, half in shadow, and for a moment it almost looked to be as red as Krampus's.

His head wavered drunkenly for a moment, then collapsed into his arms. Oh dear, oh dear. Loveless. Him, loveless.

She wasn't loveless, though. She loved her friends. Did they love her such? So very, very much?

_I know you must have been worrying about me…please, try not to…_

He sat in shadows, in light, trying to decide what was right.

_A moral compass isn't something you can find lying around, or take from someone else…it's something you're born with…some people have a weaker one, and they have a lot of difficulty differentiating between right and wrong…_

_Keep her! Fun and games, rhythm and rhyme!_

_I miss you…I love you…_

_Loveless._

He let out a high keening as words flashed through his mind, unkind, and as he did so he heard the telltale sounds of Krampus approaching.

Krampus. His old friend. Old friend of his father's. So much fun they'd had together through the years!

_Justified theft is still theft…_

_…some people believe that morality is relative, that right and wrong change with time and context. Other people believe that morality is absolute, and that anyone who tells you otherwise is probably trying to manipulate you into believing something is right or wrong when it's **not…**_

This last word echoed sickeningly in his head. He stood up as Krampus came bounding into the cave. He hopped past Allena's cage, unheeding of her, and heaved his sack off his back. _"Wortox!"_ He cried in their old, garbled tongue. _"You missed a good raid! Many nice things to see. You spend too much time with the human!"_

Wortox clicked his fangs in response and responded in kind. _"She is terribly sad here. She needs company."_

Krampus snorted. _"Doesn't seem to care much for yours! Hissing and barking at you, like cat, like dog. Fah! Forget about her! Come, look at the new additions to the trove!"_

He dumped out a hefty pile of loot. A lush and beautiful fox tail, some chittery chattery wind-up toy teeth, a baseball with a name scrawled onto the side – T. Gordon – and one of Wortox's favorite types of treasures to behold.

_"I brought you a book, see? What a good friend I am!"_

Indeed, a little book sat amongst the treasures, a shiny new hard-cover book labeled _The Golden Dog._

Wortox looked at this book and sniffed it deeply. Like all of the things he and Krampus brought back, they smelled so very good. They were more than the simple objects they seemed to be. They smelled like the letters, though to a lesser degree.

They were nice, all of these things, all of these little parts of little lives.

His stomach growled. He was hungry.

He shook his hunger off and said, very quietly. _"Krampus? Don't you think she has been here long enough?"_

Krampus, who was weighing the baseball and the foxtail and deciding which should go on his shelf, froze. His yellow goat eyes parted, going in opposite directions. Then they came back together and focused on him. _"What? What do you say?"_

_"I think the human should go home. She does not belong here, and she is sad."_

Krampus let out a high, quiet, ululating breath. He licked his lips and dropped the foxtail, deciding upon the baseball. He hopped over to a partly empty shelf and placed the ball upon it.

Then he turned around and said, voice soothing and pleasant, _"Sad? Yes, yes. The cage is not so nice. Why don't I make her a nicer place to stay? A simple collar will keep her here, and she might stretch her legs more often! Will that not be nice?"_

Wortox shook his head. "Nice, nice, and a collar will suffice. But it will not make her happy. She does not belong here. She should go."

Krampus rolled his head along his neck, and Wortox heard several joints pop. _"Ah, you know what makes her sad? So many little pains! I have been cruel to her, yes? I will cease my cruelties! No more choking, no more throwing things. You can make her a nice little bed, go on bringing her nice little treats—"_

_"She does not belong here. She must go home."_

To his surprise, as he repeated the sentiment his voice sounded deeper to him. Stronger. Against the walls it echoed longer. Strange, strange.

Krampus's throat began visibly wavering, and a sound so low Wortox could scarcely hear it began pervading the cave. It had started out of his range of hearing, but was steadily rising in pitch. It was quiet, it was deep. It was altogether quite the haunting sound.

Allena had woken up and was now staring at Krampus. In the pale firelight it almost looked as though her skin was ashen. Or was it, truly? Oh, dear.

Krampus's voice rose until it was a fierce, challenging yodel. _"Do not cross me, young one! The girl stays!"_

Wortox, utterly unperturbed by the yodel, stamped his hoof and crossed his arms. _"No. Allena goes."_

Krampus took a step forward, lowered himself to Wortox's level, opened his mouth, and yodeled with the ferocity of a bellowing herd of beefalo. Wortox flattened his ears to his skull so they would not be bothered.

 _"STAYS!"_ He shouted. _"STAYS, STAYS, STAYS, STAYS, STAYS!"_

He stomped his hoof with each repetition, and the sounds clattered around the room, bouncing off the walls and causing an awful din. Wortox was tired of this. He did not want Allena to go, oh no, oh no. But it was the right thing to do. His moral compass was telling him so.

And it was time Krampus stopped his wailing.

As petulant sound warbled thunderously from his old friend's mouth, Wortox reached out and thumped him on the head.

Krampus stopped abruptly, looking at Wortox in shock. Then his face twisted up into a grimace. _"You hit me!"_

Wortox nodded. _"And there's more where that came from. Now, give me your key!"_

Krampus's jaw dropped. He bellowed again. _"You want key, yes? Then you must come and get it! I do not intend—"_

He cut off and hopped back as Wortox, nimble and swift, leaped forward and plucked the key off of Krampus's chain belt before his friend could even finish his sentence.

Wortox giggled happily as Krampus's face twisted up in rage and he yodeled again. Oh, what fun! What fun!

Eager to continue the game, Wortox danced away as Krampus lunged for him, trying to grab the key back. But Krampus was clumsy and slow, however fast and frightening he seemed to the mortals! He could not catch Wortox!

Wortox laughed and danced, pranced about just out of Krampus's reach, always close but never captured. Fun! Fun! Fu—

Krampus whirled around and, with a spitting shriek, whipped his tail at Wortox. It caught him in the gut and flung him across the room. The letters he'd been carrying flew everywhere, papers flying out of envelopes in the rush of air.

He landed painfully in a pile of things. His stomach hurt, and it was rumbling terribly now.

He stood up shakily to see that the key had fallen, and was now across the room beside a pile of old traps. Krampus spotted it, hopped over, and picked it up.

Wortox followed, grabbing the tines of the antler just as Krampus grabbed the base. He tugged on it. _"Bah! Feh! Let go!"_

Wortox shook his head and pulled harder. _"Not so, not so! YOU let go, or into the pile of nasties you go!"_

Krampus didn't seem to hear him, only howling louder, so Wortox tightened his grip, pulled with all his might…

And let go.

Krampus had given a mighty heave to pull it back, but when Wortox released the key the heave sent him flying backwards – right into the pile of old traps.

Wortox had wondered if the bees would still be alive in those traps eight years after they had been made and stolen, and it seemed they were. There was a loud buzzing sound and Krampus yelped, hopping up at once. He yelped again and hopped again. Soon he was hopping around the cave screeching like an overgrown batilisk. A swarm of bees had latched onto his tookus and was stinging him repeatedly.

Wortox laughed. He laughed until tears streamed down his face. He laughed until he doubled over, clutching his rumbling stomach, which was empty, _so_ empty, _he was so hungry!_

The crawling under his skin was constant now. An army of ants jittering and jiving beneath his fur. Krampus slammed back into a wall and the buzzing stopped abruptly, the bees squished. Now he leapt over to Wortox, who had dropped to one knee, clutching his stomach. His old friend looked down at him, fire in his eyes, and hissed, _"Your father was wrong. You are weak."_

He lifted a great black claw, and Wortox reflexively held up a paw in self-defense.

All at once, the world changed.

Something snapped inside him. It seemed to him that he heard deep, thunderous laughter somewhere in the back of his mind, and his hand lit with red fire. Krampus's eyes widened, his expression shifting from rage to terror, and he choked out:

_"No…no! It was supposed to be her…not me…not…me…!"_

His form was liquifying, and he floated towards the stone ceiling. The key fell from his grasp as he did, but Wortox did not notice. What he did notice was Krampus collapsing into a whirling red ball of…

_Food! Food! Food!_

Without a moment's thought, Wortox flicked his wrist towards his mouth, opened it wide, and the ball of red energy shot into his maw and straight into his stomach.

At once, the hunger pangs vanished. He had never felt more full, more satisfied, more—

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. He doubled over once again, clutching his stomach, and the crawling he'd been feeling all week rippled across his body in a torrent of sensation.

His fur was changing. He could see it in the firelight. It was becoming red, bloodred, Krampus red. His claws, too, were growing longer. An odd shiver ran down his spine – and then past it. Well past it.

A tail? A tail? Not short, but long, the sort you could flail, so strong, so strong…!

And his horns grew, they grew and they curled, too.

"Wortox?" A shaky voice came echoing from the other side of the cave. He turned to look at it, back slightly hunched as the last of the shivers and shudders raced through his frame.

Red fire tinged his vision, and he saw a tasty treat sitting across the way. A tasty treat for him to eat!

He walked over to where it sat in its cage. It smelled so good!

It spoke again. "Wortox? Are you okay? What…what just happened?"

He giggled. _"Hungry, hungry, hungry!"_

It frowned at him. "Wortox, I don't understand. Could you speak English again, please?"

English, Swedish, Frenchish, Nymphish. What did it matter for his tasty dish?

He took another step and noticed something beneath his hoof. He looked down and saw white on the ground. It smelled nice. He bent down to pick it up.

He licked his lips and prepared to eat it, this paper imbued with a hint of soul, but something stopped him. There were words on the page, and they looked quite familiar.

_Webber…_

_It might be a long time before I can come home…_

_I'm doing okay where I am…I've made a new friend, he brings me toys and games and treats, and takes very good care of me…_

_Love…lots of love…lots of…_

He swallowed the saliva welling up in his mouth at the scent of the letter, the scent of the food sitting before him. It smelled so nice, so strong, it smelled like—

He moaned.

* * *

Allena's heart was pounding. Color had returned to the world like she hadn't seen all week, and the predominant theme was red. "Wortox, what happened to your fur? And your horns?"

The imp, once soft and brown and sweet, had changed as soon as he had devoured Krampus in a haze of crimson smoke. His horns where now black instead of white, and had grown long and curled. His white eyes were lined with fire, and he was slightly hunched.

He was holding up the letter she'd written for Webber, and as he looked up from it her heart skipped a beat. There was something wrong with him. Something missing.

She swallowed heavily. "Wortox…are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

He took a step towards her. The hand holding the letter dropped to his side as the other rose towards her, red fire flickering to life and dancing between his claws.

Her heart dropped. This wasn't good. Was he about to do to her what he had done to Krampus? "Wortox?" She said again, mouth dry, voice small.

His claws twitched and he paused.

Her heart was pattering painfully in her chest. She couldn't move, couldn't run, couldn't hide, couldn't fight. All she could do was talk. But what could she possibly say to him, this imp turned demon?

He extended his hand again, and the fire flared brighter. Before he could do anything else, however, her mouth started moving. "You have fire in your eyes, Wortox. It reminds me of one of my favorite poems. Would you like to hear it?"

He stopped again. His ears twitched, then turned to the front, facing her directly, like a German shepherd's. She decided to take that as a yes. Before he could make another move, she started reciting.

_"Tyger, tyger, burning bright,_   
_In the forests of the night._   
_What immortal hand or eye_   
_Could frame thy frightful symmetry?_

_In what distant deeps or skies_   
_Burnt the fire of thine eyes?_   
_On what wings dare he aspire?_   
_What the hand dare seize the fire?"_

The poem was _The Tyger_ by William Blake. It was just the sort of poem that the Wortox she knew would love.

_"…And when the stars threw down their spears, and watered heaven with their tears,_   
_Did he smile, his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee…?"_

As she spoke, the fire in his hand sputtered and died, though the fire around his eyes remained. It wavered as though in a high wind.

_"Tyger, tyger, burning bright,_   
_In the forests of the night._   
_What immortal hand or eye_   
_Dare frame thy frightful symmetry?"_

She finished the poem and asked, "Did you like that one, Wortox? It's one of my favorites."

He whimpered. His mouth twisted up as though he were trying to speak. A few garbled, foreign words came out of his mouth.

This time she let out a brittle laugh, heart still painful in her chest. "Wortox, I still can't understand you. You do remember how to speak English, don't you?"

A long, hot breath flowed from his mouth. His jaw moved roughly, as though rusty. He said, "Yeeeeeeeeeees…yes, I do, I do…"

He was starting to come back. The fire around his eyes flickered, and he swayed on the spot.

She kept at it. "Careful, Wortox. You look a little punch-drunk. Maybe you should sit down for a moment?"

Wortox shook his head slowly. "Need to let you out. Get the key. Where did the key go?"

Her pulse started to slow. It looked like he was remembering himself. "Don't worry about it, Wortox. I've been in here all week. I can wait a little longer. You need to sit down and rest, okay? Why don't you do that, and I'll tell you some more poems?"

His eyes, so hazy these last few minutes, focused on her and he nodded. He flopped down onto the ground, arms splaying out beside him as his legs bent so the hooves were just touching.

He looked like a young child sitting down for storytime. That gave her an idea, and she smiled at him and started another recitation.

_"There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men who moil for gold._   
_The arctic trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold…"_

She'd told this one a dozen times to the kid across the street when babysitting him. He loved it, and it was the only way she could get him to calm down when he was throwing a temper tantrum. She had the expressions and inflections down to a T.

_"…It was late one day; we were mushing our way over the Dawson Trail._   
_Talk of the cold! Through the parka's fold, it stabbed like a driven nail!_   
_If our eyes we'd close, then our lashes froze 'till sometimes we couldn't see._   
_It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee…"_

As she spoke, the fire in his eyes began gradually receding. Still present when she finished the poem, she offered to tell another one. He nodded, and she told him about the Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat.

_"…side by side on the table sat…t'was half past twelve, and what do you think? Not one nor the other had slept a wink."_

She told him about the Pobble Who Has No Toes, The Jumblies, The Owl and the Pussycat, and finally finished with the Bagpipe Who Didn't Say No.

_"…And politely ask the bagpipe if the story's really so. I assure you, darling Wortox, the bagpipe won't say, 'no'!"_

Finally, he cracked a smile. Then he started chortling, and at last he let loose. His laughter began echoing around the cave. "This is a good poem! So funny, so funny! You know so many – even I am not so well-versed!"

She grinned, relief setting in as the last of the fire in his eyes disappeared. "I'm glad you liked them, Wortox. Are you feeling better now?"

His snickers quieted, and he looked confused. "Yes, I am feeling well. Why do you ask?"

Did he not realize anything was wrong? "Uh, your eyes started glowing, and you were looking at me like I was a roast turkey on Thanksgiving."

He looked surprised. "Roast turkey? Don't be silly! I've already had my fill-y. My stomach is full, full, full!"

She grimaced. "Yeah, I noticed you had…quite a meal. What happened?"

He cocked his head, then frowned. As thoughts began to race behind his eyes, the white orbs widened, and he whimpered. "Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Krampus? Krampus? Old friend? Where did you go?"

He hopped up and began looking around, and a twinge of unease passed through her. He didn't understand what had happened any more than she did. "Wortox," she said carefully. "I think he's gone. You kind of…ate him."

Wortox cringed. "Ate him? Why? Why would I…?"

He stopped and turned around in a full circle, taking in his surroundings properly. He walked over to the key and picked it up, examining it. Then he walked over to the pile of traps that Krampus had fallen in. He looked to the wall with the squished bees, then looked at the key again. "Oh, dear. Oh, dear. This is no good, I fear."

He looked down at his hands and started. He held out his arms and began inspecting them, he grabbed his new, magnificent horns, and jumped with a yelp as his own tail wandered down and wrapped around his ankle. She had to hold in a morbid laugh at this one – he looked just like a cat startling itself.

He looked to be panicking, and she tried to calm him down. "Wortox, it's okay. I mean, maybe it's not okay…your friend is gone…but you're safe. You were a little off for a while there, but you're okay now. I don't know what's happened to you, but…"

She hadn't the slightest clue how to handle this. It wasn't like explaining to the neighbor's kid why his puppy died. This was on a level with which she had no experience, and as Wortox whipped towards her looking wretched, her heart broke a bit at the pain in his eyes.

"Oh, Wortox. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry all of this happened. You were trying to let me go, weren't you?" A hint of guilt clawed at her, though she knew it was unwarranted. "That's why all of this happened?"

Wortox looked confused. "Yes…but this is not your fault. How can it be? You are in a cage, not free, not free to influence him or me. Why, then, are you sorry?"

"Because you lost a friend."

He shuddered. "Krampus was not your friend. He hurt you, awful, awful. Why are you sorry that he is gone?"

She pursed her lips. Wortox was the type of person who needed to understand things. A polite lie wouldn't cut it. "I didn't like him at all, and I'm not personally sorry that he's gone," she said. "You're right. He did hurt me. But he was your friend," she explained. "And whatever happened, he's gone now, and you have to deal with that. The sorrow isn't for his loss – it's for your grief."

Would he get that?

He stood there, staring at her silently for some long minutes. Then he said, "I…think I understand. But does this mean we are still friends?" He asked cautiously. "Even though I hurt you? Even though I took your letters, and would not let you go? Even though I am…loveless?"

Oh. Wow. Had her comment really meant that much to him, about him not being a loving creature?

She looked at him searchingly, and saw by the uncertainty in his eyes that yes, it had. "Wortox," she said, voice raw. "You aren't loveless. You did some loveless things, you acted somewhat callously, but you're capable of being a better person than that."

He blinked. "I am?"

She nodded. "You are. I'm sure of it."

He looked down at the key in his hand. Then he hopped over, placed it carefully in the lock, and turned it. At once the lock fell to pieces, broken and unusable.

She took a deep breath, pushed the door open, stepped out—

And fell as her legs, unable to support her weigh from their long constriction, gave out.

Wortox winced as she hit the ground. "Careful, steady! Do not walk until you're ready!"

There was the imp she knew. "Thanks, Wortox. I'll be careful. Just give me a few minutes to stretch my legs."

"Will you tell me more poems as you do? Will you, will you?"

She grabbed her ankle and started slowly rotating her joints. Ouch. "Yes, of course."

She spent the next half an hour telling Wortox poems and stories as she recovered the use of her legs. Mostly Shel Silverstein and Ogden Nash, with a bit of Robert Frost thrown in. When she was finally able to walk stably around the cave a few times, she decided she was okay. "Alright, Wortox, I think I'm all better. Thank you for letting me out. And thank you for…standing up to Krampus for me. He really could have hurt you."

Wortox shook his head vehemently. "Oh, no! Krampus would not have hurt me, we are friends." He gulped. "We were friends," he corrected sadly.

"Are you entirely sure about that?" She asked doubtfully. "He hurt you pretty badly. I saw. He flung you across the room." She poked his stomach where Krampus's tail had struck him, and he let out a breath of discomfort. "And when you were down on the ground, he looked like he was about to do much worse. I know you didn't mean to do what you did, but if you hadn't, he might have seriously injured you." She paused, then added, "Maybe even killed you."

Wortox's ears, still soft and silky but now bright red, flapped back and forth as they had done earlier. "I do not know. I do not know what happened, and I do not know how to feel. How am I supposed to feel?"

She shook her head helplessly. "I can't tell you that, Wortox. I'm not you. But…"

She thought about it, then tried for a story. "A while back, during winter, I went for a hike without Wilson and I ran into some walruses. They were out hunting, and they decided to come after me. They shot me, they set their hounds on me…" she shivered and the memory. "It was awful. I almost died. But a while later, Wilson and I ran into them again. We decided they needed to be put down, for safety's sake. But even though I agreed to killing them, I felt awful about it."

He was watching her, eyes locked on as he tried to find answers in her words. She hoped this was the right story for him.

"I don't like killing things unless it's necessary to. I'd rather try for peaceful resolution, when possible. I wanted to be friends with them, and to the last I tried to dissuade them from violence. But that doesn't always work."

Wortox looked dismayed, so she quickly continued.

"…But sometimes it does! For instance, did I tell you about how Webber tried to eat me when we first met?"

His gaze went over to the letter she'd written her eight-legged friend, and he looked quite shocked. "He tried to eat you? Do tell, do!"

She told him that story, too. How she'd met Webber in the cave, how she'd hit him and blinded him when he'd tried to eat her; how she went back to him for help when the Deerclops attacked, believing that they could get along in spite of what had happened; how he'd saved her life, and how she'd saved his from Maxwell after the attack.

Wortox looked on quite wonderingly. "And now you are close friends. I know, because I read your kindly letter to him." He tilted his head back and forth, then asked, "So which is better? Mercy, or justice?"

She snorted. "Wortox, you ask me deep philosophical questions the same way other people ask about the weather. Do you remember what I told you about the moral compass?"

He nodded fervently. "Yes, yes! Mine was put to the test. It told me to let you go, and I did. But now Krampus is long-gone. Was I right, or was I wrong?"

He wanted so many definite answers. She had so few to give. "Wortox, sometimes when you do the right thing, bad things happen anyways. Sometimes they're your fault, sometimes they aren't. You have to decide for yourself whether what you did was right. But I suppose, if you want my opinion…" She bit her lip and said, "You tried to set someone free who didn't deserve to be imprisoned. When your friend tried to stop you, tried to hurt you, you…" she voiced the phrase with some reluctance, not liking the way it tasted in her mouth. "You killed him."

Wortox's lip curled up in disgust. He didn't seem to like it, either.

Still, it needed to be said. "I don't think you were wrong. But he wasn't my friend. I'll feel differently about the situation than you do. You're probably going to need to spend a lot of time thinking about it before you can really decide for yourself how you feel about it. And to be honest, uncertainty might haunt you for a long time."

"A long time? Days, weeks?"

"Years, even," she replied. "Perhaps decades."

Wortox pouted. "That is a long time to feel bad about something."

She shrugged. "It's part of knowing right from wrong. Good and evil are powerful things, and the ability to tell them apart can be painful. But hey – Adam and Eve ate the apple, and this is what we got."

"Adam? Eve? Who are these? And which apple did they eat? I like apples. May I have one?"

She laughed. "That might be a little tricky. I don't have any of those apples, but I can tell you the story."

She wanted to go home, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. It was dark out. As long as she was stuck in there for another night, she may as well make use of the time.

Wortox wanted stories. She knew more than enough.


	30. A Hardheaded Woman

Wes held up the compass, heart fluttering in his chest. The light from it was dimming, and he knew that he was running low on time, but he was close. He was sure of it.

His five days of compass use were nearly exhausted. He'd followed it tirelessly all that time, stopping only to collect any food he came across and catching a few hours of sleep each night before whipping up a few torches and continuing on his trek in the pre-dawn hours. The trip was rough and often terrifying, and he was glad he'd brought Glommer along. His humming insect friend had a surprisingly calming effect on him, practically negating the unease imparted by the darkness. Sometimes, when senses of impending danger would rise and recede, he even imagined the creature was plain warding off back luck.

His long walk had led him to a cave, and though such a thing might have scared the wits out of him just a few weeks prior, it seemed trivial now. Whatever was in there wasn't going to stop him from finding Allena.

A low, rumbling roar echoed up from the dark cavern before him and he jumped back a bit, shivering. Well, maybe trivial wasn't quite the right word.

Still, he shook it off and stepped forward. Glommer followed contentedly. The compass had led them well past Wilson's tallfort, over plains and through forests; he'd even had to hold Glommer in his arms and sprint full-tilt across a tentacle-infested swamp to avoid being thwacked, and had seen a handful of absolutely delicious looking creatures observing him from afar.

He hadn't stopped, though. They looked tasty, but they also looked very large, bulky, and possibly quite fast, and he didn't want to risk a fight, even if he _was_ running low on food.

The only thing he'd stopped to inspect thoroughly along the way was a ruined camp. It appeared to have been smashed to pieces and trampled. His heart had skipped a beat in fear when he'd first seen the titanic hoofprints, but he'd then recalled Allena and Wilson's story of the Deerclops and relaxed. That threat was long gone.

As was the camp's inhabitant, clearly. There were no signs that anything had been disturbed since being destroyed, and there had been several useful items lying around, including some non-perishable food stores. He'd placed everything of use in his backpack and kept going.

Finally, he had reached what he was sure was his destination. A rough chunk of stone, not unlike the one that had rested atop the hill of his prison, had been mined away to reveal an old set of crude, stone stairs. Wes could not see far, but the light from the compass was directing him downwards.

He'd walked around for a short while grabbing a good many branches, sticks, and grass for torches. Now, well-prepared, he lit one and stepped inside.

_REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET! REET! REET! REET!_

Wes ducked and flailed his arms in panic. As soon as he'd taken a few steps down, a horrific face had flown out of the tunnel. Pig-nosed and furry with glowing red eyes, it flapped around, furious at having been awoken.

It was a bat. A bat the size of a cocker spaniel.

Wes didn't like bats.

Waving his torch around to keep it at bay, he flung himself towards the stairs as quickly as he dared. The bat did not pursue him, but as he quickly learned, there were others.

_REET! REET! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEET REET REET REET!_

Three more dropped from the low ceiling as he descended past them, all screaming bloody murder. Two of them divebombed him, but the third went after Glommer, who buzzed loudly in alarm. Wes stopped in his descent, wrestled up some courage, and swung the torch at the attacking bat, dazing it and causing it to withdraw. Glommer bumbled forward after him as he took off down the stairs once more.

He took the stairs as fast as he could. Oh, how dreadful. Still, the fire kept the bats at bay so long as he was careful, and he managed to get himself and Glommer to the bottom without getting bitten or scratched or falling to his untimely demise.

As he finally reached the floor of the cave, the bats screeched one more time and gave up. He watched them retreat out of the firelight and saw a few faint silhouettes as they passed in front of the distant entrance to regain their perches.

Shaking himself off indignantly, unwilling to consider how terrifying the trip back up would be, he pulled the compass back out as Glommer's agitated buzzing calmed to its normal, routine hum.

The compass was pointing off into the darkness, and it was thrumming slightly now. Did that mean it was about to give out…or that he was close?

He got the feeling it was the latter, though the prior may also have been true. He started off into the darkness.

He walked on for an hour, swapping out his torch once and growing steadily more terrified and excited. Terrified because he kept hearing groans and the violent cracking of stone on stone echoing about in the vast darkness. Excited because he was close to finding Allena…and because of all the strange wonders he passed.

Though the path he took was unremarkable itself, he passed by a handful of truly spectacular sights. Plants that seemed to be glowing orbs of light shone in the distance; one crop illuminated what appeared to be a crop of giant carrots, and once he saw a large, white form hop just past the range of the light. A giant bunnyman of some sort? Wilson had once told them – under duress – a story his mother had always told him as a child, about a kingdom of bunnymen beneath the earth. Wes wondered what he would think of these marvels.

He also saw a stunningly beautiful sight, one he would have liked to explore further had he the time. An entire forest of mushrooms, all the size of pine trees, glowing in the distance. Their soft light reminded him strangely of Christmas, though they came in blue as well as red and green. He wondered if they would taste good.

His stomach rumbled. He still had a handful of berries from a bush he'd found beside the cave entrance, but most of the extra rations were eaten. If he didn't find Allena soon, he may have to visit the mushroom forest out of necessity, not just intrigue. Hopefully the green ones would cook up nic—

"Oi! Who is that?" A harsh voice barked in the darkness.

Wes jumped. He looked around, but saw nothing.

"Don't make me ask you twice!" The voice said threateningly. It sounded female, and mad, but he couldn't discern anything else from it. "I'll be happy to run you through if you don't identify yourself!"

Oh, dear. He held up his hand in a non-threatening way, taking a step back.

The voice sounded again, irritated. "What's wrong with you, eh? Cat got'cher tongue?"

Finally, the figure stepped out of the darkness.

It was a woman. She was wearing brown overalls, heavy black boots, and thick work gloves. She was carrying a spear…and was wearing what appeared to be a mole on her head.

Wes looked at this, baffled, and she tapped her head and she said, "A real strange contraption, eh? Useful though. Lets me see in the dark. Now, I'll ask one more time! Who are you? And why are you here, while you're at it?"

Wes was baffled. Who was this? Did she know where Allena was? Was there a camp nearby?

He pulled out his compass. The light was now flashing rapidly, and was pointing straight at the woman.

A queasy feeling started up in his stomach. He started walking in a full circle around the mole-headed individual, holding up the compass, and she turned to keep him in sight, tensing and pointing the spear at him. As Wes walked around her, his unease deepened, and when he completed the circle, a wave of despair rose up.  
The compass was pointing to her.

Not Allena. Never Allena. Maxwell had lied. He'd come all this way to find her, and now…

His hand shook.

He threw the compass in a fit of frustration, sending it skittering across the ground. He stamped his foot several times on the hard, stone floor. Then the wave of despair crashed over him, and he sat down abruptly, pulling his knees into his chest and burying his head in his arms.

He would never find Allena.

The woman walked over to him, footsteps tentative. After a moment, she spoke. "Uh, hey there buddy? You alright?"

He heaved a deep breath and shook his head in his arms.

He heard her pause, then her footsteps traveled away from him, in the direction he'd thrown the compass.

"Huh. This is a nice compass. Can't help but notice it's pointing at me, though."

Tears were welling up in his eyes, dampening his sleeves. He sniffled.

Silence for a moment. Then, "You seemed pretty baffled when you saw me. I take it you were looking for someone else, maybe?"

Wes looked up, expression twisted into misery, and he nodded.

The woman walked over and nudged the torch he'd thrown down with her spear. "You know, that thing'll go out pretty quickly if you don't keep holding it. I can see in the dark with these moggles, but I don't think you'd fare as well."

With a deep sigh, Wes picked up the torch again and stood, wobbling slightly under the weight of his disappointment. No Allena. All this way, and no Allena.

The woman looked him up and down. "You're an odd one, ya know that? Never seen anyone dressed like you before. Where are you from? Canada? Mexico? One of them Asian countries?"

He shook his head. He tried the same mime he'd done for Allena, but she didn't get it.

"Uh, not sure what all that means. Sorry."

He considered for a moment. She was definitely American. Maybe she would understand this?

He hoisted his torch above his head in his right hand and tucked an imaginary tablet to his side with his other.

She got it at once. "The…Statue of Liberty? You're from New York?"

He shook his head. He made a hammering notion.

"Hammering the Statue of Liberty? Not sure I'm okay with that."

He shook his head again. He added screwing, measuring, etching, and sawing motions to it. She looked at him strangely. "Building? Building the Statue of – oh! Are you French?"

He nodded. He inspected his torch. It would be going out soon, and he only had enough for three more. He wouldn't be able to stay long. He pointed at the torch, held up three fingers, and pointed back at the cave exit.

She tilted her head. "Running out of fire, eh? No worries, I've got plenty back at my camp. And you look like you could use a sit-down." Then she frowned and looked past him. "Uh, by the way, what's that? Food?"

She pointed her spear at Glommer, and Wes's eyes widened. He wrapped his arms around Glommer, pulling him close and shaking his head at the woman. _No!_

She sheathed her spear and put her hands up. "Okay, the Teddy-bug isn't food. Got it. Anyways, my camp is nearby. Let's go." She jerked her head in one direction, turned, and started walking.

Wes paused. Should he go with this strange, mole-headed woman? He needed to get back to camp…

On the other hand, it would be ridiculous of him not to at least make her acquaintance. It wasn't every day you ran into someone in the Constant. And it wasn't her fault, after all, that she happened to be a horrendous disappointment. Anyways, he had nowhere else to go now but home. Home, to let Wilson and Wolfgang know that he had failed to bring Allena back to them.

Another tear trickled down his face, and he rued not bringing his face paint along. He probably looked a mess. Nothing took off face paint like tears.

She led him through the darkness for a short while. They went under an overhang, through a small tunnel, across a thick stone bridge. Those…what had she called them? Moggles? Those moggles of hers must have been quite effective, because she could see at least as well as he could.

 _Better,_ he corrected himself as he tripped on a shallow indentation in the stone and almost went sprawling.

She saw this and caught his arm to keep him upright. "Careful, there. Not the most hospitable place."

He nodded his agreement and thanks to her, then they rounded the last corner to reveal her camp.

There was a crack in the roof of the cave here, and sunlight flooded down into the area. Grass and trees, though somewhat unhealthy-looking, had grown up in the cozy little hideaway. There were also a handful of glowing mushroom trees along the edges, a small garden in the brightest part of the area, and the rest was the main camp.

The camp was basic, but effective. A tent, a firepit, a couple of lanterns, several chests, a food box, a small forge, a worktable with a variety of doodads and frayed wires…

She waved her hand carelessly. "I have a couple logs by the fire. Sit down, make yourself at home. It's pretty obvious you don't talk, but why don't you try to tell me your story over a bowl of rabbit stew?"

She strolled over to the food box, flipped the lid, and pulled out a massive, white, furry haunch of meat.

Wes's eyes widened. She laughed. "Yeah, the rabbits get big down here. Tasty, too. Sit down, take a load off. I'll whip us up some lunch."

His stomach rumbled at the very thought, and he clasped it with one hand and wagged a finger at it with the other, shushing it.

She laughed. "You're a funny one. Funny good, I mean. Not funny bad. I've had a fair few of the other type, trust me."

Wes nodded. He'd had some himself.

He sat by the fire, resting up while the woman cooked. Glommer hovered just above him, and Wes took out his flower and set it down on top of the food box for him. He dipped down and stuck his face in it as Wes yawned deeply. He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep per night for the last five days, and now, with the bittersweet culmination of his quest, exhaustion was dragging at him like an anchor. He rested his chin on his hands. Maybe he would rest his eyes for just a…

He was out like a light.

* * *

Something was poking his head. He opened his eyes to see a steaming bowl of soup was being waved under his nose. "Hey, buddy. Have a nice nap?"

He shook himself awake, gazing blearily at the woman. She'd started up a fire while he'd been resting and had removed her moggles, and his jaw dropped upon seeing her face.

With her moggles off he could see that she had short, dark hair pulled up into a high, functional ponytail. She had a strong chin, a delicate, perky nose, and piercing, no-nonsense blue eyes. He took the bowl of stew absentmindedly, and as she stood up straight again and walked over to dish some up for herself he took note of her gait. It was the lumbering grace of a fighting woman. A working woman. A mess-with-me-and-I'll-knock-your-lights-out woman.

She was _beautiful._

She turned around and her nose twitched in amusement. "You're gonna catch bugs with your mouth dangling open like that. And trust me, the bugs down here aren't none too pleasant."

He raised a hand under his chin and clomped his mouth shut, then mimed sewing it shut. She smiled lopsidedly. "Ah, leave some space for the stew. That's one thing you'll want to catch, I guess. Look at you, all skin and bones. I guess this hell-hole hasn't been all that good to you?"

Wes looked down at himself conscientiously. He did look a bit scrawny.

He sniffed the stew. It smelled delicious. He took a bite. It tasted delicious.

She chuckled as he began funneling the food down his gullet. "So," she asked as he finished the bowl. "Who were you looking for when you found me?"

His shoulders slumped, and he set the bowl down. He clasped his hands over his heart and pouted.

"A loved one? Girlfriend? Wife?"

He shook his head, wavering his hands in a halfhearted 'no' gesture. She took a guess. "Not a girlfriend. Just a friend?"

He nodded, but also locked his hands together in a tight chain.

She swallowed a big slurp of stew, wiped her mouth, and guessed, "Close friend?"

He nodded again.

"That's rough," she said sympathetically. She finished her own stew quickly and said, "Name's Winona, by the way. Shoulda introduced myself earlier, I guess. So, who're you?"

He mimed his name, expecting it to take a while to get across, but she picked it up at once. "Wes, huh?"

He nodded excitedly. She'd gotten it even faster than Allena had!

Again, his shoulders slumped. _Allena._

Winona laced her fingers together and stretched her arms above her head, yawning widely. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Wes. Sorry you didn't find your friend. What happened? Why didn't your magic compass work?"

Thinking back on the incantation Maxwell had done on it – Feminae, Animatus, Venatio – he suspected that the compass may well have just been pointing him in the direction of the nearest living female…which Maxwell had no doubt known was not Allena. He racked his brain to recall if the man had ever explicitly said that the compass would point him to her, but now that he thought about it, Wes was sure he hadn't. The snake.

This was all too difficult to really explain in mime, so instead he just shrugged sadly. Then he perked up a bit. He waved his hand dismissively, pointed at her, and smiled in an attempt at cheerfulness.

_But at least I've found you!_

She snorted. "Yeah, no doubt I'm a great consolation prize."

He blushed, then started frantically trying to convey that he didn't think of her that way at all. He waved his hands, shook his head, pointed around the camp, pointed at the stew, pointed at her, gave two thumbs up—

She started laughing again. "No worries, I get it. Hey, sorry about the rough greeting earlier, by the way. You know, threatening to skewer you and all." She tapped her spear, still strapped to her back. "As nice as it is to see someone else, a girl's gotta watch out for herself in a place like this. Didn't want to risk some creep trying to swoop in and steal all my stuff."

Wes strongly gestured, 'no', then pointed back to the cave entrance, mimed eating food, zipping up a sleeping bag, using several tools, and even inspecting a precious gem.

_I wouldn't steal your stuff! We have plenty of stuff back at our own base!_

"You wouldn't steal from me because you have lots of stuff back at your own camp?"

He clapped, ecstatic. She was catching on quickly.

She looked interested. "Wow. So you have a decent setup wherever you are. But I guess you're alone now, because your friend is missing?"

He shook his head and held up two fingers.

"You had two friends?"

He added an extra finger.

"Three?!" She exclaimed. "Not including you, I assume. You have a camp of four people?"

He nodded. He hopped up, held up one finger, then flexed. A strong one. He held his hand up way above his head. Very tall.

Then he held up two fingers, stepped to the side and tapped his head, started writing on an invisible piece of paper, and mimed using a wrench, a hammer, a measuring tape, and a microscope. The second, smart, good with his hands.

Then he stepped back to the side and mimed up a broom, a chopping motion, a rope-weaving motion, a bee-catching motion; he flopped open a book and started mouthing a story, he sang a song, he rolled some dice, he held out his hands in the motion of presenting an item, he bent down an scratched their invisible dog on the head, he—

He swallowed heavily and sat back down, clasping his hands over his face. He missed Allena.

She hummed thoughtfully, not answering straightaway. She took a minute to process the pantomime, then said, "Okay, so one friend..." she held up one finger. "Is big and strong?"

He nodded.

"And the second one..." she held up the two fingers, and Wes nodded further encouragement. "...is a smart friend," she tapped her head as he had done. "Who…builds stuff?"

_Yes!_

"And," she said carefully. "A friend who cooks, cleans, tells stories, sings songs, plays games. Ummm…takes care of your dog…?"

He was nodding continuously now.

"And I'm gonna guess she's the one who's missing."

Wes nodded once more, heavily. Another tear rolled down his face. He wiped it away quickly.

She winced. "Ah. Gotcha. I can see how that would be rough. I'm not the cooking, cleaning, charming the birds right out of the trees type, but I can imagine how that would be nice in this world. It's a pretty rough place. Must be a relief to have a sweet girl like that around."

He nodded, pained.

Winona sighed. "Sorry about your loss. But if you're still looking for her, I guess there's a good chance she's still alive, right? I mean, she's not dead?"

Wes looked at his new friend helplessly and shrugged.

She let out a low whistle. "You don't know if she's alive or dead. I'm sorry, buddy. You know, I'm looking for someone, too. Actually, I have to ask. Your friend – did she have dark brown hair? Almost black?"

Wes nodded.

Winona's eyes sharpened. "A cute nose, kinda like mine?"

Wes nodded again, and Winona looked excited. "Was she about five foot two? Cheerful disposition?"

Wes nodded, and now Winona looked downright galvanized. "And did she have really cute dimples?"

Now Wes paused. He shook his head. Allena didn't have dimples.

Winona deflated. "Oh. Never mind, then. I'm looking for my little sister, but she has the cutest dimples in the world. Pretty obvious descriptor. If your friend doesn't have 'em, she's not my sister." Then she added for good measure, "Her name wa… _is_ Charlie, by the way."

Wes considered this. Charlie? He felt like he'd heard that name before, but he wasn't sure where. Probably an old name from back home, or someone mentioned in a story recently. No one they knew.

He felt a twinge of sympathy. He mimed looking around, then held up an invisible pocket watch and tapped it.

"How long have I been looking for her?" Winona asked. Wes nodded confirmation. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I dunno. Maybe a year now. Ever since I arrive here. I actually saw her once, just before I got dragged into this place. You see, there was this explosion at the factory where I work…"

Wes listened intently as Winona told her story. Apparently she'd been working in an industrial plant that made radios when an explosion had rocked the building,  
originating from the foreman's room. She'd helped some of her coworkers to safety before going to help him. She'd gone in just in time to see him vanishing into some strange black and white gateway. It had broken after closing, so she'd done some rapid repairs on it to get it functional in the hopes of pulling her boss back out. To no avail. The portal opened again, but her boss wasn't there – her sister was.

"She looked out at me," Winona said, and for the first time a bit of her cockiness left her voice. "I hadn't seen her in years. You see, she went missing – presumed dead – in the San Francisco quake. But then, there she was."

She took a deep, steadying breath. "She reached out to me. I took her hand. But as I was heaving, she…changed. Her eyes went black, her entire body was black, and she reared out of the portal like a snake. She wrapped around me, there was turbulence, swirling darkness, and then…I was here."

Wes stared at her with wide eyes. He'd been an only child, had never had any siblings. Allena was likely as close as he'd ever come to having a sister, or something of the like. And now he knew just how horrible it was to have someone you loved dangled right in front of your nose, only to be ripped away again.

He looked down, twiddling his thumbs and wondering how he might go about conveying his sympathies, or cheering her up if possible. Then he got an idea.

He raised a finger, partly in epiphany, partly in a wait-just-one-moment gesture, and reached into his bag. Winona looked at him curiously. He turned away, intent on surprising her.

She leaned forward, brow furrowing, and after a few moments, a few deep breaths, and some quick finger-work, he turned around and presented his best attempt at good cheer.

A squeaky pink pig bounced on a silken string. He'd gotten some silk from Webber so his balloons wouldn't float away anymore, and he now held one out to Winona.

She gawked at it for a moment. Then she burst out into raucous laughter. She laughed so hard it almost seemed to shake the caverns around her. "Hey, that's alright! You sure are one funny—"

She broke off as they both realized that the caverns actually were shaking. "Damn," she said, hopping up. "Uh, stick to me, friend. You're gonna want to be careful for the next couple minutes…"

Wes hopped up, looking around in alarm. Winona grabbed his chin and tilted it upwards.

He leaped out of the way as a chunk of flint cascaded down from the ceiling, nearly hitting him.

Winona snarled as she dodged a large clod of dirt. "Gah! Be careful, and be ready to move! It'll stop in a few minutes! It's hard to dodge this stuff because you can't see it until it comes in range of the light, and I can't exactly light the roof."

She sidestepped as a small trickle of dust and pebbles fell down on her, and Wes sprang into action at once.

There was a small box of odd glowing bulbs beside them, probably from whatever strange plant he'd seen glowing in the distance earlier, and Wes grabbed one of these. He tied it to the end of his balloon, hoped it wasn't too heavy, and tossed it up.

It was just light enough, in both senses of the word. The balloon hoisted the orb slowly into the air, illuminating a handful of stones falling towards them.  
Winona gasped. "Ah, Wes! You're brilliant! Can you—"

He was already on it. Be blew another one, quickly twisted it into a beefalo, and tied another orb onto it. He sent this one up several feet to the left, and he did another one some feet to the right.

In moments, they could see enough to dodge the projectiles fairly easily. He grabbed Glommer and moved him to prevent him being crushed by a huge chunk of flint, and held him close as he dodged the rest of the debris. Glommer didn't mind. For all Wes could tell, he has having a jolly time.

Winona, staring straight up to keep dodging, struck up more conversation on the topic. "You know, my moggles don't work well with this sort of thing. I can see enough to ward off the thing that lurks in the darkness here, but everything is a little blurry and indistinct. I'll see something lethal coming down, but smaller rocks are harder to dodge. Oh, look! A gem!"

She darted over to catch a purple gem as it fell from the ceiling. "These are rare," she remarked, slipping it in her pocket. "Sharper edges than flint. Good for doing detail carving."

The rumbles were dying down, and after another minute they stopped. Wes let go of Glommer, who had been humming happily throughout the entire event, and wiped off the traces of slimy goop the creature had excreted during the excitement. Then he walked over and inspected Winona, making sure she wasn't injured. He tentatively reached out and brushed some dust from her shoulder and back.

"Thanks," she said absentmindedly as she inspected the area. "You get hit at all?"

He shook his head, then pointed at her questioningly. "Nope," she said. "I'm all good."

Winona grumbled as she looked around the camp. It seemed that she'd proofed much of her base against rockfalls like this, but they were clearly inconvenient, nonetheless. She started picking up flint and stones, inspecting them, and tossing most of the stuff off the nearest ledge and the rest into a large wooden rock-bin.

Wes was quick to help her, gathering all the rocks and flint scattered across the camp into his shirt and bringing it over to her for inspection. He wasn't sure what she needed, so he let her look at it all.

She raised an eyebrow at his offering of spare rocks and said, "Thanks. You sure are eager to help, huh?"

He nodded enthusiastically. As long as he was here, he may as well.

She quickly sorted through them, picking out a few and tossing the rest. "Alrighty. Well, that was fun. Hey, I've told you my story. Why don't you tell me yours?"

He dusted his shirt off and paused. That would be quite a tale, and he doubted he could mime it all to her. If he had one of his friends here…

An idea popped into his head. Maybe he couldn't bring his friends to her, but was it out of the question to bring her back to his friends?

He considered. Popping that question might not go well without some background, so he decided to mime out at least what they had back home. The bases, the teamwork, the resources in their area, so on and so forth.

He got to it. She asked a few questions, and needed a lot of clarification, and probably only ended up understanding half of what he conveyed, but she got the gist. "Wow," she said. "It seems like you have a pretty good setup where you are."

He nodded. Then, cautiously, he pointed at her, pointed at himself, and pointed in the direction of the cave exit. He pointed around the base and pointed at his pack and mimed struggling under a heavy load. He mimed walking, held up five fingers, and pointed straight up and made a circular motion.

Winona stared at him blankly for a long moment. Then she said, "You're…asking me to go with you?"

He nodded.

"We can pack up my camp and you'll carry what you can in your pack?"

Another nod.

She frowned. "How far away is it, again?"

He repeated the last motions. Walking, five fingers, pointing up with a rotating motion.

She bit her tongue. "Five days walk?"

He nodded. Then he clasped his hands in front of his chest and looked at her pleadingly.

She tilted her head to the side and said, "You really cut to the chase, don't you? I gotta say, as much as I love a forward man, I'm gonna have to say no."

His hands fell, along with his expression. He tried to convey to her that they had more than enough resources to support her, frog legs and rabbits and beefalo and all sorts of food…

She waved her hand. "I get it, you have enough to go around, but that's not the problem. I don't know how things have gone for you guys, but a base up there isn't going to survive indefinitely. That's why I built one down here."

A base on the surface wouldn't survive? He looked at her, confused.

She sighed. "Look. I had a base up there—"

Oh! Of course. That ruined base. He dropped down to one knee and slung his pack off, pulling out the various implements he'd found there and piling them up.

Winona said, "Oh, hey! Would you look at that, you found – and ransacked – my old base."

Wes froze, halfway through pulling out an old hammer. His face scrunched up in guilt and he looked up at her apologetically.

She laughed. This was a woman who found the world an amusing place. "Don't worry about it. I'd have been surprised if you'd passed it by. But trust me, I haven't gone back there for a reason, not since I was driven out in winter. You know there's a giant monster up there, right?"

Wes looked at her. She must have been talking about the Deerclops. He stood up and mimed it out as best he could, never having seen it. Allena had described it as giant and hulking, with long swinging arms and a mighty bellow. He made a big circle with his hands right in the middle of his face.

She nodded. "Yes! That thing. It wrecked my base. I ran off and tried to rebuild when it was gone, but I swear as soon as I got one stone on top of another it beelined straight back, absolutely furious, and stomped everything into the ground. Then it took off after me, enraged. I barely made it to the caves. I heard it clomping around aboveground for hours before it left, and honestly I've assumed that a lot of these rockfalls are from it walking by overhead."

Wes shook his head. He imitated the Deerclops again, then drew his thumb across his throat.

Winona looked at him skeptically. "That thing is dead? I don't believe it."

Wes nodded. He mimed out Wilson again, tapping his head, then hopped to the side and did his Allena impression. Then he grasped an invisible rope, pulled hard, and imitated the Deerclops falling over, catching himself as he hit the ground and popping right back up. Then, putting on an expression of wild combat, began stabbing the air with his invisible spear.

Winona watched all of this, unimpressed. "You're trying to tell me that your brainiac friend and the five-foot-two housewife type tripped that thing and stabbed it to death? Good story, but I'm too old for fairytales."

Wes stopped the impression and straightened out. He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and puffed it out, lifting his chin proudly.

_I don't care what you think. My friends are the strongest people in the world!_

Winona's mouth quirked up in a smile, then down in a frown. She, too, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot a few times. "Okay, you say they killed it. Got any proof?"

Wes nodded, then made a massive, round outline in the air, mimed wrapping it up and carrying it, and pointed back to the exit.

"They brought the eye home with them as a trophy? And what makes you think I'm gonna believe you?"

Wes rolled that question around a bit, then shrugged nonchalantly. He once again thumbed in the direction of the base.

She snorted, this time a bit derisively. "Oh, I see. I only get proof if I go with you?"

He nodded, smiling. Then he yawned. It really was getting on towards evening, and he didn't want to intrude on her hospitality by insisting he stay the night, so he figured he ought to be heading back to the surface to start a fire before it got dark.

He reloaded his pack, leaving behind all the things he'd grabbed from her old, ruined base. They were hers, after all. As he packed up she said, "Well, wait a minute. You aren't taking off already? We only just met!"

He shrugged helplessly, then tapped again at his invisible pocket watch.

She made a noise of total disbelief and said sarcastically, "Oh, right. Late for something, my ass. You're just trying to pressure me into coming with you!"

Wes covered his mouth politely, then tapped his chest and looked at her, wide eyed with shock at the insinuation.

_Who, me?_

He fanned his face as though blushing at the very thought, and she snorted once more. This time, in barely contained laughter. "Why you little…"

She cocked her head and started tapping her chin. "Hmm. I have to say, it isn't all that fun down here. It would be nice to head back up. But if you're lying, or wrong, and that thing is still up there…"

Wes raised an eyebrow, then swept his hands down his body and held his arms out.

_Do I look squished to you?_

She nodded minor acquiescence. "Yeah, I guess you made it alright. And…"

She got a longing look in her face. "I sure would like to see that eyeball up close. And I bet that would make for a real good story. I assume your friends aren't all mute, too?"

He shook his head.

Winona stood thinking for several minutes. Wes waited patiently.

She shook her head, and Wes's heart dropped…until she said, "I don't like it, but I hate living down here. And a girl's gotta take some risks. I'll tell you what – stay the night, help me pack up tomorrow, and I'll trust you on this. I'll go with you."

His face lit up. He broke out in a wide smile, and threw his fist triumphantly into the air, hopping up and down excitedly. Winona let out a long sigh. "Boy, you sure are an excitable little fella, aren't you?"

Wes nodded at her, lunged forward, and wrapped her up in a hug.

"Wha…?! Argh! You…ugh. Fine. You asked for it."

And she wrapped her arms around him and picked him up by the waist.

Her arms were like vice grips. He felt like a goat being squeezed to death by a boa constrictor. The quiet wheeze that was forced out of him was probably the only audible sound that had left his mouth in years.

She set him down. He patted his stomach gingerly, then looked at her in shock.

"What?" She said belligerently. "You wanted a hug, hey?"

He blinked. Then, he pointed at her, lifted his arms, and flexed them.

Once again, she threw her head back and laughed. "Yeah, I've been told. Now, why don't we start packing the basics so we can be off early tomorrow, eh?"

He smiled shakily and nodded. They got to work.


	31. Bittersweet Reuinion

Allena held up the glowing amulet that Wortox had shown her on her first day in the cage. The metal of it was more orange than gold, and had an odd, geometrical luster to it. It had a sort of naturally occurring structure that rendered the surface not smooth, but boldly ingrained with a complex maze of lines. The necklace was set with a yellow gem.

"So where did you guys get this thing? There's no way this came from the Constant. It's way too nice."

Wortox hopped over and inspected the amulet. They were going through the treasure trove, sorting through the piles of goods and packing away anything of value. "I do not know where this one came from," he said. "But it is of this world. More so than most things here in this cave. Can you not feel it?"

She looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean? More of this world than most things – does that mean the materials came from here?"

He nodded, but also added, "More than the material. The craft. It is native."

Native? "You mean a race native to the Constant made this?"

"Yes, yes. I do not know which, though."

She ran a quick list of sentient beings native to the Constant. "Huh. I wouldn't have thought any of the races I've seen capable of making something like this. Was it the walruses? Or the pigs? I haven't actually met the pigs yet, but—"

Wortox shook his head, ears flapping. "No, no, no! Pigs and MacTusks are not of the Constant. Made here, yes, but not _of_ here."

"Huh? Not _of_ here?" What was that supposed to mean?

Wortox stroked his little tuft of beard, as though pondering how best to explain. Then he said, "Hmm. Think of dogs."

Immediately a picture of a corgi popped into her head. "Uh, dogs? Okay…"

"Are dogs the native beasts of your home? Of America the North?"

"North America? I mean, they're domestic animals. There are some wild dogs here and there, but—"

Wortox shook his head. "No, no. Think not wild, but mild! Little furry creatures that funny women carry around in their shoulder bags. Like this!"

He hopped away and came back with what appeared to be a nice leather purse containing the skeleton of what had most assuredly been a Pomeranian.

That was just sad. "Okay, yeah, domestic dogs like that are found in North America – they're found all over the world, wherever they're shipped or bred, really, but—"

"But they are not the native beasts of North America. They are simply made from the true rulers of the American wilds."

The rulers of the American wilds? "You mean wolves?"

He nodded excitedly. "Wolves! Big, bad, scary! What large teeth they have! What large eyes, and what large ears! Keep the forests full of fears!"

Allena struggled a bit with the analogy, but eventually she thought she got what he was laying down. Sort of. "Okay, so you're saying…the pigs and walruses—"

"MacTusks," Wortox corrected.

"MacTusks," she said, brow furrowing. "Good to know the thing Wilson hacked a tusk off of had a name. The pigs and MacTusks are like domestic dogs – they're found in this region; they're descended from the beings of this region…"

"In a sense, yes, though not so crudely."

"Crudely?"

"Biologically."

"Ah. Right. Gotcha. But they aren't naturally native to this region?"

He smiled and nodded, then hopped away to find more nice things.

She frowned, looking down at the ornate and beautiful artifact in her hand. The yellow gem glowed with light and warmth, and seemed to almost emanate mental clarity. "So, wait…who made this, then? Who are the wolves of the Constant?"

Wortox, who had just picked up a toy robot and was examining it with great fascination, said, "I do not know. Is this a useful thing you need? I must say, it sparks my own greed!"

"We don't need it. It's all yours. How do you not know who the natives of the Constant are?"

Wortox twitched an ear. "I have never seen them. Have you ever seen a wolf?"

"Ah…no," she relented. "Not in the wild. I think they might have gone extinct in the wild, or at least pretty close to it. They're building the population back up in Yellowstone, I think, but…"

Wortox nodded. "Whoever lived here lives no more. Now we have MacTusks and boar. And lovely bugs and beasts galore. Now what, I wonder, is _this_ for?"

She turned around to see him holding up a bright pink, lacy bra. He stretched it like a slingshot, discovered that it could be unhooked, then draped it over his horns and tied the ends together under his chin like a bonnet.

She smacked her forehead as he took to inspecting himself in a mirror. "That's not a hat…"

A couple hours later they were just about ready to depart. Allena had had to force herself to go through everything slowly, giving at the very least a cursory glance through every pile. At last, they'd decided that whatever was left could remain where it was.

In addition to all the supplies that Krampus stole – minus some of the food he'd eaten – she was also bringing back a whole slew of useful tidbits. Webber's picture of his parents, first and foremost, as well as Wolfgang's honey jar and the other object from the Living Survivors Shelf, the red pile of cloth, which as it turned out was a bandana. The book, a thick and boring-looking tome on agriculture, had to be fished out of a bucket of rags. At one point during the week Krampus had gone over to the shelf and taken the book on agriculture down, sniffed it a few times, then laughed before tossing it onto one of his junk piles. Allena got the sorry sense that she knew what that meant.

There had been a lot to go through in the piles, but these things contained far more useless junk than not. She'd salvaged quite a few raw materials, logs and sticks and grass and such, as well as rarer things like gems, iron and other metals; she'd found many books, but had pared the selection down to a couple of story books for Webber – she wanted to teach him to read, if they had the time – a few scientific textbooks for Wilson, and a book that was entirely in French and therefore a complete mystery to her for Wes. She assumed he probably spoke French. Or read French, rather.

She'd also found a number of potentially useful mechanical parts, an entire bag of nails, and a couple of nice workman's hammers for Wolfgang. She'd found an unbroken mirror and a few grooming supplies, including a fine silver comb. She'd grabbed the four traps that Krampus hadn't squished or triggered, and a few other small weapons, flint daggers and batons and such. And she'd found a couple of very odd, potentially very valuable treasures.

A black, furry belt adorned with white, moveless eyes that seemed to be nearly alive and certainly had a magical quality about it; a massive, heavy club made of that same orange material the medallion was made of; and…

"A wizard's staff," she said once more, twirling the thing around in her hand. "Really, Wortox, where did _this_ come from?"

It was a staff five feet tall made of a plain birch branch and topped securely with a large, warm, glowing red gem, not unlike the ones Wilson used in some of his experiments.

Wortox blinked at it and went back to playing with his new robot toy. "Another camper, long ago. Which one it was, I do not know. Are you ready to go?"

Wortox had been growing steadily more distant with each revelation she'd made. She'd asked him whether this stuff would be too heavy to carry back in Krampus's sack, thinking that may have been the cause, but he'd shaken his head. He'd loaded several heavy things into it and handed it to her. Indeed, the sack felt as though it had nothing heavier than a particularly dense pillow in it. At most.

She'd then assumed by then that it was the prospect of her leaving, so she'd let him know that he was welcome to come live with them in their camp, that everyone would be happy to have him. But he'd simply shuddered and turned back to sort through the piles, unanswering.

Now, as she loaded the last of the supplies into the bag and picked it up again to be sure it absolutely wasn't too heavy to carry – it was still just as light – she replied to Wortox. "Yeah, I think so. Anything in here I miss? Anything else you think I should bring along?"

He shook his head. "No, no. Time to go."

She shrugged. "Okay. Wortox, is anything bothering you? You seem a bit melancholy."

One ear went down, and he said, "All is well. Swell, swell, swell. Time to go meet your friends."

Hmm. Was he worried about that? Meeting her friends? "They'll really appreciate you for helping me," she said encouragingly. "I guess Wolfgang will probably freak out a bit, and Webber might be a little nervous at first, but Wes will love you, and once I explain everything, so will Wilson."

Wortox nodded thoughtfully, then sighed. "We will see how they respond to me. Now, shall we? Shall we?"

He gestured to the cave entrance, and her heart lifted. She was going home. Finally.

_Now, when did you start calling the Constant 'home'? This isn't home, my dear. This is hell…_

She frowned and shook her head. Where had _that_ joyful little nugget come from?

She disregarded it and walked over to the edge of the cliff, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a low whistle. It was a very, very long way down, all steep slopes and crags.

"Uh, Wortox," she said nervously. "I'm gonna be honest, I'm pretty afraid of heights. Do you know—"

She gasped and flailed as a wall of white enveloped her, and for the second time she found herself sitting in the Krampus sack. She shouted as she bumped her elbow against a log and found herself partly cushioned by a bed of sticks, which was supremely uncomfortable. When had they agreed on this?!

She felt herself bouncing as Wortox descended the cliff with her, weightless, upon his back, and after a minute or two she cautiously allowed herself to calm down. The last ride in this was fairly traumatizing, but she was forced to recognize the utility of it. This was no doubt cutting their journey down by hours, and was sure much safer. So long as he didn't drop her.

She was starting to get nervous again after about ten minutes, recalling her near-suffocation, but shortly thereafter they came to a stop. He set the bag down, opened it up, and peered down at her. "Are you okay? The trip down was quite treacherous, and with no dainty hooves for scaling the cliffs I feared you would topple right to the bottom. Fast, yes, but not very pleasant."

She forced a tight smile and said, "I'm fine. Thanks for checking in. But you know, you could have just told me you were going to do that…"

He shook his head. "After your last trip in the sack, I doubted you would want to go back. So I decided on a surprise attack. Now, however, we're right on track!"

She laughed, the last of her unease melting away, and her impish friend allowed himself a small smile. She said, "Gotcha. I guess I can understand that. It's not too comfy in here, but it's not too bad, either. Would you rather I stay in here, or that we walk together?"

His nose twitched. "I think carrying you would be better. Faster. If you do not mind?"

She shrugged. "Just make sure to open the bag for air every now and then. Every ten or fifteen minutes would be good. You sure you want to carry me?"

He nodded. "Very sure, and very well. A short stop now and then, so you can have fresh air again."

And with that he closed the sack and took off.

She still felt a bit uneasy. Not about her travel arrangements – she felt like she was traveling first class by the Constant's standards – but about Wortox. It seemed to her that he was unwilling to spend more time than necessary talking to her. Had she upset him?

Well, there wasn't much time to worry about it. He would stop every ten or fifteen minutes, open the bag to make sure she was still comfortable, and close it up as soon as he was content that she was.  
An hour passed this way. Hop, stop, open, close, hop again. Finally, there was a pause.

The bag stilled and opened again. Wortox peeked in and said, "Come. Tell me if this is the correct place, or if I have gotten us quite lost."

She crawled out of the bag and gasped as she looked around. Unbeknownst to her, they'd gone into another mountain range. This one was craggy and gradually sloped downwards. She looked out on the chessboard world before her, taking in the strange geography on a scale that she'd never anticipated seeing.

"He really did build this world, didn't he?" She said faintly. She could see exactly how clear-cut everything was from that massive scale. The perfectly straight lines, the unlikely juxtaposing of biomes …

Wortox let out a small, musical warble. "You mean the Shadow King. Maxwell, you call him?"

"Yeah."

Wortox picked up a pebble and tossed it down the slope before them, watching it bounce to the bottom. "Yes, he made this. He took what was here before and…domesticated it. There are places in the world untouched by him, but they are all the more dangerous for it. This world above is quite fine, as far as worlds go."

World above? Maybe there was more to see below, in the caves. As for the Constant she knew being 'fine', she would beg to differ, but she decided not to pursue it. Now, where…

She took a sharp breath of excitement as her eyes began tracing the biomes. Now that she took a moment to piece it together, she realized that it looked very familiar indeed. "Wilson's map. Wow…it's really spot-on!"

She didn't have her phone with her, but she was sure that if she pulled out Wilson's atlas of the world it would look very similar to the layout before her. That was some impressive…argh, what was it called? She knew there was a specific word for mapmaking, but she was blanking on it. It started with a C.

Bah. There were more important things to be focusing on. "This is it, Wortox. So I guess we're in the mountains behind the base now. It should be right down there," she pointed. "Do you think you can manage that?"

He nodded. "Oh yes. My hooves may be a wee bit bigger, but they are still very good at scaling such crags. I can do it with ease, if you please."

She grinned. "Oh, please, please do."

She stepped back into the sack and settled in for the rest of the trip, and as soon as Wortox wrapped her back up she felt the mild jolting of his rapid descent. He really was nimbler than a mountain-goat.

Anticipation was making her jittery, and she had to force herself to stay fairly still. She didn't want to cause a ruckus in the sack. There were a few breakables in there with her. She waited, still and quiet, until she felt a firm impact as they reached some sort of solid ground. After that it was a few minutes of easy jogging…

And the sack hit the ground again.

* * *

Wilson sat at his worktable measuring out various bits and bobs for the gateway. He'd thrown himself into his work in an attempt at distraction, and it went fairly well so long as he didn't allow himself a moment's mental respite. If he did, the silence of the base drilled into his skull and sapped him of any will to work.

_In the quiet, misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed…when the sparrows stop their singing, and the sky is clear and red…_

His hand trembled as he reached for a pencil to mark out the sixteen-inch cut he needed on the next plank of wood, and he clenched his fist and slammed it down on the table. He needed to get this done within the next couple of hours, before Wolfgang returned from his frog hunt. Once that happened, he would insist they go out and do something productive with that false, hearty cheer of his. After Allena had been taken he'd turned quite stoic, but once Wes had vanished as well, he'd decided that he needed to take on the role of positive influence. Ever since, he'd been walking with a swagger in his step, belting out old Russian folksongs, and constantly suggesting they go out for a hunt, to stock up on lumber, to snatch a few tallbird eggs, whatever could or should be done on any given day.

Wilson had to admit; without Wolfgang's influence he probably would have stalled. Still, he needed to work on the gateway. He had to get it up and running. They'd planned on having it done before summer came around, but summer was right around the corner. He knew Allena would want him to get it done, and—

_When the summer's ceased its gleaming, when the corn is past its prime…when adventure's lost its meaning, I'll be homeward bound in time…_

He clenched his teeth and snapped his eyes closed. When he opened them he forced them back to his project.

He and Wolfgang had debated on whether or not they should go after Wes; but as soon as they'd decided to pursue him, distant howling had signaled an imminent hound attack. With no traps and only a couple of emergency spears to their names, they'd been hard-pressed, and Wilson knew he would have fallen in moments had it not been for Wolfgang. The man had charged the pack like a bellowing beefalo, taking down the lead wolf in a single blow before whirling around to attack two more. He'd ended up killing three of them while Wilson had barely managed the other two.

Still, for all his ferocity, he'd been injured fairly badly, and they'd been faced with a dilemma. Their salves and bandages were all gone, stolen by Krampus, so Wilson had been forced to choose between going after Wes and hunting spiders for medical supplies.

He'd chosen Wolfgang. Now Wes was gone. Allena was gone. All he had was Wolfgang…and his Gateway.

He sighed as he heard his last friend's heavy feet approaching the base. It sounded like he had called his hunt early. Wilson really wished for more time to work on the device, but it looked as though he would have to—

He saw a hint of red round the corner as the heavy form entered the base, and he whirled around to face it.

A monstrous little thing stood in the doorway, staring at him. It had tall, thin, curling horns; a long, swishing tail; a short Billy goat beard; and it was covered in red fur.

Red like Krampus.

And it was carrying the monster's big white sack.

Wilson saw more red than was strictly present. He stood up with a strangled hiss of fury and flew towards his weapon, knowing that if this thing was anything like its great big friend he would be hard-pressed to reach it, but—

No, he managed to grab the weapon before the little monster could snag it. He whirled around, holding the spear out…

…and saw that the thing hadn't moved. It just stood there. Watching him.

Fine. Fine. That was just as well. Let it stand there. Let it stand there while he ran it through with his spear, skinned it, hacked it into pieces, and—

It spoke. "You have a red vest," it said, its voice deep and musical. "I take it, then, that you are Wilson? The one Allena has talked so much about?"

A shudder passed through his body, and he tightened his grip on the spear. "You…" he breathed. "You have quite the nerve coming here, after all your friend took from us. I assume, of course, that the demon is a friend of yours? Perhaps a relation? You're certainly hideous enough to be related."

The beast's ears twitched, but otherwise it seemed unperturbed. "No relation. He was a friend…but he has since met his end. Perhaps you would like to know why I've come, and therefore avoid this violent humdrum?"

Wilson narrowed his eyes and said, "No, I'm not interested. You say you were a friend of that Krampus fellow? That's all I need to know. All I want from you is your _horns_ mounted on my _wall."_

He hoisted the spear, stepped forward, and the creature sighed and shook its head. "Such anger is not healthy, you know. I suppose I will drop off what I brought, and then go."

He set the sack gently on the ground as Wilson approached, drawing the spear back to plunge it into the little freak's chest—

The bag opened. A hand reached out, and Wilson froze. His mind froze. The moment froze.

The hand pushed the rim of the bag away and a head emerged, covered in long, familiar brown locks. Far more tangled than he was used to seeing them but…

"Allena?" He asked, voice slightly strangled.

She looked up, blinking as the sunlight hit her eyes. She put a hand under herself and got into a kneeling position. She shielded her eyes and looked up. As soon as she saw him properly her face broke into a wide smile. "Wilson," she said, and he could hear the relief saturating her voice.

It was. It was her. _Allena._

He threw the spear aside and dropped down beside her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close.

Oh, by the stars above. The instant he touched her the world came back to life around him. Warmth, color, sensation – it was an electric current coursing through his whole body.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck for a long moment, savouring the contact. Then he leaned back and gasped, "Allena, my dear. You're back. Are you alright? What happened? How…?"

She'd hugged him back, seemingly savouring the contact every bit as much as he was, but now she had to lean away as the creature behind her tugged on the bag, which she was still half inside of. She stood up and stepped off the white cloth, and Wilson saw the demonic-looking thing set the bag aside and start reaching into it and pulling things out.

Allena nodded to the beast. "Wilson, this is Wortox. He's a friend. He saved me from Krampus, brought me back here. I'm fine, and that's thanks to him."

Wilson's mouth went dry at the information. "Ah." He coughed, his face coloring at the misunderstanding.

He addressed the creature. Wortox. "My apologies, then. I…saw your resemblance to the fiend that took Allena and I assumed…"

The creature, who was taking various objects and supplies out of the bag and setting them in a small pile, warbled, "When you assume, you make an _ass_ out of _you_ and _me!"_

Wilson felt his flush deepen. "Er, yes, I suppose…"

Allena laughed, then tackled him in another tight hug, burying her face in his chest. "Wilson. I missed you. I'm sorry it took so long to get back. Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath and rested his cheek against her head. He stroked her hair and sighed, "It's alright, my dearest. I'm fine. Any damage done has been quite fixed by your return."

Of course, he knew that wasn't entirely true. Aside from all the things that had been stolen and broken, Wes was now gone. As was Glommer – a more depressing thought now that Allena was home. She would be terribly distraught at the loss of her insect pet as well as their friend.

His eyes fell upon the pile of things coming out of the sack, which had been steadily growing, and his jaw dropped. "What is…wait, is that everything Krampus stole?"

Allena stepped back, expression quite proud. "And then some. As miserable as this whole thing was, I think we'll be better off for it."

Wilson's jaw clenched, and Allena's face fell. "I mean, I wouldn't do it again, and I know it was probably miserable for you, it's just that Krampus's cave was so full of stuff, we brought back a bunch of useful supplies. Gems, gold, materials, books. I brought you a textbook on neurochemistry, in case you're interested. And I brought Webber a book of fairy tales, and I got Wes a book that's written in French. I don't know what it's about, but I figured he might appreciate it. Where is he, by the way? Where is everyone?"

She was looking around expectantly, and Wilson swallowed heavily as guilt and worry settled into the pit of his stomach. He hated to immediately put such a damper on her return but…"Wolfgang is out hunting frogs. As for Wes…I suppose we'll need to have a talk about that."

She paled at once. "What happened?" She asked, her voice urgent. "Is he hurt? Missing? Oh, please tell me he isn't dead. Please, Wilson."

Wilsons shook his head at once. "No, no. Not to our knowledge. Just missing, but he's been gone ever since you vanished, and we fear he may have tried to go find you."

Allena's face fell. "Oh, no. Can we go after him? Did you see which way he went?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm afraid there was a very inconveniently timed hound attack, and the scuffle destroyed any tracks our French friend may have left. Also, Wolfgang was injured in the attack, so—"

Allena gasped. "Is he okay? Oh, all of the medical supplies were taken! Hold on, we brought everything back. Well, Wortox did, anyways, he carried it all, including me."

Wortox's voice came rumbling from behind the now-massive pile, his horns just poking above it all. "Krampus's sack is quite light on the back. An easy task, really, truly."

Allena turned back to him. "Thank you anyways, Wortox. Thank you so much for getting me home."

She walked behind the pile as the odd, impish creature stood up, and she gave him a hug as well. The creature went tense, his eyes flashed, and for a moment Wilson felt a surge of adrenaline as the beast's claws twitched—

Then Allena stepped back and the creature – Wortox – relaxed. His claws wiggled, then he shook his head and grabbed the bottom of the sack, upending it and sending the last few things inside tumbling out onto the ground. He slung the pack back over his shoulder. "You are quite welcome. Now I must go. Goodbye."

She started. "What? Go? So soon? You haven't even met Wolfgang or Webber. Won't you stay for a while?"

His mouth dropped open, and his nose twitched. He licked his lips, then said, "No. No. I'm terribly hungry, need to go find some dinner. I don't want to get much thinner."

Allena frowned. "I'm sure Wolfgang will bring back plenty of frog, and I can go out and get more if we need it. You can stay for…"

She trailed off, and an odd expression came into her face. "Oh," she said. "Hungry. Uh…right. Well, I guess I'll let you go get yourself some food."

Wortox nodded, and Wilson looked at him suspiciously. What was wrong with the odd imp?

Whatever it was, it was clearly quite trying on him. He clicked his teeth, flapped his ears, and turned to go without another word. He hopped up onto the tall wall and was just getting ready to bound away when Allena called, "Wortox! Please, come back when you're feeling better, okay? Even if you can't stay with us, you're always welcome to visit."

Wortox turned around, hunched on the wall like a morbid red statue, and looked at her strangely. He said nothing.

Wilson dismissed the last of his remnant anger and suspicion towards the creature and took a step forward to address him. This Wortox fellow, whoever he was and whatever ailed him, had brought Allena back. "Allena is quite right. You are welcome in this base whenever you are in need. Please don't hesitate to return once you've sorted out your…whatever it is you need to sort out."

Wortox looked surprised. Then he nodded deeply and said in a voice slightly dazed, "A homely home? Somewhere I can come when I'm done with my roam? Where I'm welcome, and wanted? Kind, you are. Too kind, perhaps. Still, so long as I do not lapse, I suppose I may avail myself…"

He shook his head like a dog. "Ah, but not now. Too hungry. Too hungry. Goodbye, my new friend, and newer acquaintance. It is dinner time for me, and I wouldn't want to infringe upon your hospitality. Farewell!"

And he hopped off the wall and disappeared from sight.

Wilson frowned. "Er, my dear, does he always…?"

"Rhyme? Not always, but yeah, that's kind of his schtick."

What an odd creature. "Well, at least he's easy enough to understand. Do you know what was the matter with him?" An unpleasant thought occurred to him, and he asked warily, "Say, you haven't befriended another cannibal, have you?"

She shook her head, but frowned. "Uh, no, but I think he might have a craving for…souls."

It took a very long moment for this to register. "I'm sorry?"

"Souls. I'm fairly sure that he ate Krampus's soul, and that he wants more."

Wilson blinked. "Souls. So…that creature is a demon?"

Allena's face twisted up in confusion. "I'm not sure. I think he may be partly demonic, but he's also part something else. He mentioned his parents to me at one point, and though he wouldn't tell me much about them I got the feeling that his mother was something pleasant, and his father was something...not-so-pleasant."

"Hm. A half-demon, then."

She nodded. "A half-demon. One that went to a great deal of trouble to get me home without eating me."

Wilson ran his thumb across his chin and felt a fair amount of stubble. He would need to shave. "Well, I owe him a great deal for bringing you back. But if he ever tries to eat my soul—"

Allena nodded, "Yeah, that might be something we need to work on. Just keep an eye on him if his stomach starts rumbling. Anyways…"

They both eyed the giant pile of stuff Wortox had left behind. A trove of treasure from a vanquished monster's lair. He could see a number of things poking out of the pile that would undoubtedly be of great use to them. Normally he would be ecstatic at such a sight, but…

He looked down at Allena, whose eyes were distant and whose expression was one of worry. She pulled her eyes away from the pile and looked around the base, further unease deepening the lines on her brow.

He grimaced. "Wes took Glommer with him when he left."

Her expression actually relaxed a bit. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought, after what happened, there might have been some…resentment towards him," she finished carefully.

He groaned slightly. "Ah, I'm ashamed to say your fears weren't entirely baseless. It was only thanks to Wes that the creature is still alive. I'm sorry, my dear, but after the encounter with Krampus…"

Allena looked at him, dismayed. "You attacked Glommer?"

His gut twisted up and he nodded silently.

Allena just rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes for a long moment. Then she opened them, took a deep breath, and said, "Alright, well, we have a lot of stuff to go through and put away. Shall we get started?"

He jumped on the chance for distraction. "Yes, that's an excellent idea. So, you say you brought back some new books?"


	32. Confessions

The pile of goods had been almost entirely sorted out and put away. Allena was just about done placing the rest of the weapons on their tool shelf – Wilson hadn't gotten around to building a replacement cabinet for them – when she heard a high, off-key whistling floating towards the base on the early evening breeze. Accompanying this was the familiar _whump, whump, whump_ of a heavy, four-pawed creature bouncing towards the base at a brisk walking pace.

She finished placing the last trap on the shelf just as a massive form rounded the entrance, a large pack on his back and a fuzzy orange friend at his side. "I have brought back dozen frog legs, Wilson! Should be good enough for dinner, yes?"

He'd walked past without seeing her, and she grinned and said, "Hope you won't mind sharing one or two with me. I could go for some frog."

Wolfgang jolted to a stop. Chester went insane, barking like mad and rushing her in a heartbeat. She dropped down to one knee, gave him a hug and a pat, then hopped up and ran over to greet Wolfgang.

His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open, but at last he smiled widely and thundered, "Allena! You are back! I thought we would never be seeing you again!"

She leaped up and flung her arms around his thick neck. He wrapped up her up in a hug and whirled around the base. She laughed. "Hey, Wolfgang. Good to see you, too." She kissed him on the cheek.

He set her down and started talking at a million miles a minute. "How are you coming back to us, eh? Let me guess – you fight your way out of sack and stab Krampus to death with little pig sticker of yours, yea? Claw big yellow eyes out, kick him in shins, and carry all the stolen goodies back all by yourself! Mighty little woman! That is what happens, I am sure of it!"

"I'd love to say that's what happened, but I would absolutely be lying. I'm afraid it's a bit more boring than that – I just made a friend."

Wolfgang pouted for a moment, then perked up, looking around. "Friend! Friend is good. Can never have too many. Where is friend now, eh?"

"Went off to get dinner, I'm afraid. He ate Krampus, but he's still pretty hungry."

Wolfgang's eyes went wide. "You have friend that _ate_ Krampus? Ate biggest boogeyman of Wolfgang's childhood?" He looked decidedly nervous. "I am not sure if I am wanting to meet this friend."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "He's not nearly as scary as he sounds. In fact, compared to Webber he looks absolutely adorable. I'm sure he'll come back around; I'll introduce you when he does. His name is Wortox."

In fact she wasn't sure Wortox would come back around. She was worried about him, about what would happen if he couldn't manage his new hunger for souls well. She prayed she wouldn't lose him to whatever curse had taken hold of him during his fight for her freedom.

But there was nothing she could do about that just then. What she could do was comfort her still-manic chest dog, whip them up some dinner, and start fixing up everything that had been damaged in her disappearance. "So, I hear you went on a frog hunt. If you'd like, I can start on dinner while you help Wilson with his project."

Wolfgang nodded, then frowned. "Wilson keeps telling me not to be touching his Gateway. Much irritation for very small man."

She snorted, looking over her shoulder. Wilson was working on carving a wooden board, and having heard Wolfgang's comment he looked slowly up from his project with a narrow-eyed glare.

"Actually," she quickly clarified, "He's working on building a new cabinet for our weapons right now. Speaking of which, I brought you back a souvenir."

Wolfgang looked around curiously. "Souvenir? Wolfgang is familiar with those! Is tiny bobbling head, or card with picture of Krampus, or maybe little glass figurine?"

She rolled her eyes as she walked over to the table holding the rest of the goods that needed to be put away. "Not that kind of souvenir. I figured you might like something like _this_ a little more…"

She grunted with the effort of lifting the massive, metallic bat made of the mysterious orange substance. Wolfgang gasped, then squealed like a teenage girl being presented with tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. He rushed up and looked at the club, taking it gingerly and inspecting it. "Is beautiful! Is beautiful golden club just for Wolfgang! Is so heavy, with little spikes all along the edge! Is the best present I have ever received in whole life! Is even better than fancy red clogs mama Wolfgang made me for coming-of-age party!"

He wound up with the bat and swung it full force at the air in front of him, grinning widely as he tested its weight. Allena ducked back a little. "I'm glad you like it. Maybe we can go on a trip to the tallfort sometime, or go kill some spiders in the Northwood tomorrow. I'd love to see you test it out."

She really would. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a huge man wield a massive club to pound monsters into the ground.

Wolfgang nodded seriously. "I do not like spiders and tall birdies. But for you, will happily go smash them anytime."

"Aww, thanks, Wolfgang."

Wilson cleared his throat. "Ahem! A little help on these boards, perhaps? I'm not sure if you noticed, but all of our things have been returned, with interest, and we have nowhere to put them."

Wolfgang looked around and gawped. "Allena and friend bring back everything! And very much extra!" He examined the densely packed weapons shelf and the piles of things on every spare surface they had, and whistled. "Yes, we are needing many new boxes and such. I will help. You will do frog legs."

She nodded. "I will do frog legs."

She got to work cooking while they got to work carving, and every five minutes or so she had to pause briefly to pet Chester until he finally got used to her being home again. When she was almost done he pawed her ankle and whined.

She looked down at him. "Yeah, Chester? You okay? Your eyebone isn't in the smoke again, is it?"

She looked around for it to see that it was in a comfortable position, but the pupil was scanning the camp as though looking for something.

Wilson got an odd look when she looked over at him questioningly, and said, "He's been a bit distraught since Glommer disappeared. He's probably wondering whether you brought him back or not."

Oh.

She knelt down beside Chester and gave him a hug. "No, boy, I'm sorry. No Glommer," she said sadly. He whined again.

She saw Wilson look down, clearly ashamed. She wasn't surprised that he'd reacted the way he had to Glommer, but it was still depressing to know that he'd attacked the innocent little creature, and she was horribly worried about him.

Of course, that was nothing to how she felt about Wes. He'd gone out into the world looking for her, and she all she could do was pray he would come back home soon. She was sure he could manage day-to-day life in the Constant – she'd come across him washing his shirt out in the stream the other day and had been surprised to see that he was a good deal more physically fit than he looked with his formless, horizontal stiped shirt on – but if anything surprising came up, a hound attack or something akin to the MacTusks, he could end up in real trouble.

She finished up the frog legs and added a scrambled tallbird egg on the side for good measure. As they all sat down to wait, Wolfgang said with hearty cheer, "I feel like a feast would be better, to celebrate Allena's coming home, but perhaps we save feast for when Wes comes back too, eh?"

Wilson's eye twitched, but Allena said, "That sounds like a great idea. Hopefully he won't be too much longer. I'll be sure to tidy everything up within the next couple days so he can come back to a clean base. You guys sure have let it get messy in here."

Wilson said, "Yes. If ever I did not properly appreciate how much work you put into keeping this place clean, I certainly do now. It will be nice to have the base looking presentable again."

_Lovely…delightful…so soft, so…very…presentable…_

She shuddered at the resurfaced memory. Why did these things keep popping into her head?

Again, she shook it off, but she was feeling distinctly uneasy as she finished her dinner and started on the dishes. She assumed that Wolfgang and Wilson would go back to their project once they were done with the meal, work on it for a couple more hours before bed, but when she turned around she saw that Wilson had whipped them up an unusual treat – buttered toast with honey. They were both sitting at the fire, staring at her expectantly.

She tilted her head. "Uh, can I get something for you guys?"

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "You've been gone for a week! Aren't you going to tell us what happened?"

She smacked her forehead. Of course they wanted the story. "Ugh. Okay, right, yeah. Okay, so first off, the trip over was HORRIBLE."

She told them the entire story, though she toned down the injuries and pain of confinement significantly. She mentioned the dart-throwing, showing them the tiny scars on her arm. Wilson looked outraged. Wolfgang merely stroked his mustache and remarked that she had acquired some very nice scars, tiny though they may have been. She appreciated both responses.

When she got to the part about Wortox reading her letters they both looked around at the piles of things on the surrounding tables. "Letters?" Wilson asked curiously. "Did you bring them back? May we read them?"

She blushed at the thought of them getting their hands on the correspondence. Especially Wilson. "I don't know where they are, and I wouldn't give them to you if I did," she said shortly.

"Why not?" Wilson asked indignantly. "They were written for us!"

"I want to read letter you wrote for Wilson! Bet it has much gushy love stuff in it, very entertaining!"

Her face flushed even hotter and she tugged at her collar as Wilson turned on Wolfgang and started berating the guffawing man.

At last she finished the story and Wilson got up and came over to sit down beside her. "I'm sorry we weren't able to pursue you. Krampus used some sort of flute that knocked us all out cold, and he left behind no tracks…"

She kissed him on the cheek and leaned against his shoulder. "It's fine. Really, I've had worse. My legs are still pretty sore from being cooped up for so long, but I'll be fully recovered in no time." She recalled something that had been weighing on her and asked, "Hey, how is Webber doing? Is he alright?"

Wolfgang said, "Do not know. He did not seem okay when he last was here, and has not been coming back since you vanished."

She looked at Wilson and he said, "Yes, I'm afraid he may have taken your loss rather seriously. Perhaps we could…" He looked pained to finish the sentence, but said, "…go visit him tomorrow?"

Wolfgang winced but nodded. "Yes. Go visit little spider boy. Make sure he is alright."

She was surprised that both were willing to make the suggestion so readily, and she nodded. "That sounds great. Maybe we could bring him some honey, cheer him up."

Wilson replied, "I doubt he'll need much more cheering than your presence will provide. Still, that sounds like an excellent idea."

After that the three of them got ready for bed. Allena replaced all of her things in her normal living space – Wilson hadn't touched her sleeping bag, so she didn't need to do more than shake the dust off of it – while Wolfgang cleaned up the woodcarving area and Wilson stocked up the fire with the extra shavings from the boards. They all brushed their teeth and went to bed.

Wolfgang slept on the far end of the camp. He hadn't bothered to move into the now finished base since their population had halved, but he still slept far away because he snored rather loudly. Allena, ecstatic to finally be sleeping at home again, slipped into her bag at once.

Before she could so much as shut her eyes, Wilson came in after her, kicked off his shoes, and straddled her.

She hrmph'd at him. "Hey, Wilson. I take it you—"

He leaned over and caught her in a kiss before she could finish saying 'missed having me here,' and whatever conversation she was planning was forgotten.

They were quiet and reserved, but they were also eager to take the opportunity to get reacquainted. She sat up and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Dearest," he breathed. "Forgive me for not being there for you."

She leaned her head against him. She could hear his heart drumming rapidly in his chest, and relaxed into the sound. "You couldn't have possibly come after me. It was way past the mountain range behind us; I wouldn't have been able to get back down if it weren't for Wortox; getting up would have been impossible. Please don't blame yourself for not coming after me."

"It was thanks to me that you were taken at all," he said sadly, running his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp.

She sighed blissfully. She loved having her scalp massaged. "It was an accident. None of us could have known any of that would happen. I don't blame anyone."

"I started the silly fight that led to it all," he said fretfully. "And now Wes is gone, and so is Glommer, and we've been set so far back in our work…"

She pulled away reluctantly, detangling his fingers from her hair, and reached up to loop her arms around his neck. "Wes will come back," she said firmly. "So will Glommer. And all the things I brought back will give us a huge leg up this spring. We have a new friend in Wortox; we've gained a lot more than we've lost. So please, don't worry about it, okay?"

He blinked heavily. "You are a good deal kinder to me than I deserve. Every time we have a scuffle or problem, you're the first to take responsibility and the last to lay blame."

She nodded agreement. "Yeah, I know."

He looked quite surprised at her easy response, and she laughed quietly. "I know it can be dangerous to forgive too quickly, and I know that sort of habit can be easily taken advantage of, but I guess that's what happens wh—"

She cut herself off quietly and pursed her lips, laying her head back on his chest and hoping he hadn't noticed that she'd been about to say more.

_That's what happens when you're in love._

Her sister had always done incredibly stupid things whenever she fell in love, and Allena had never understood it. It was like they lived in different worlds sometimes. Of course, she'd never been in anything like a serious relationship, while her sister fell in love at the drop of a hat.

_Ugh. Allena, you don't get it. He's my whole world._

_Linda, you say that about every guy. You have to have an entire solar system of them tucked away by now._

She chuckled quietly as she remembered how her sister had blanched at that. She felt Wilson take a deep breath, which ruffled her hair on the exhale. Then he asked, "Say, what did you put in that letter that you don't want me reading?"

She blanched.

He chuckled and leaned back, looking down at her with playful curiosity in his eyes.

"Er. Nothing, really," she said quickly. "Just, you know, that I'd be okay, not to worry about me…that sort of thing."

He peered closely at her face as she spoke…then tipped his head back and yawned. "…I see. Well, I'm sorry to have kept you up so late. I suppose it's time we retire."

And he rolled over to his own sleeping bag, drew the thin blanket off – the extra hound pelt was stowed away until next winter – and crawled inside.

The clumsily evaded question rang in her head. She knew he knew she was lying – or at least not telling the whole truth – but her nerves jangled at the prospect of telling him what else she'd said. Funny how three words could be as unapproachable as a titanic, cyclopean winter-monster, or a heavily guarded tallfort.

_Doesn't he have a right to know?_

As she watched him settle down a memory rose up in response to the topic – the night of their first expedition, when he'd started talking to her in spite of her deafness.

She rolled over onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, and asked him, "What did you say to me that you didn't want me hearing that night in the Thornwood Base? When I was deaf; you said something to me, and I never asked you what it was."

He glanced over at her, eyebrows popping up at the question. "I thought you'd have forgotten about that."

She readjusted herself to get more comfortable. "I figured if you wanted me knowing, you'd have written it down."

He stared at her, gaze somewhat hard, for a long moment. Then his expression became unreadable. In a voice just a bit too casual to be believable, he said, "Oh, nothing of great importance. At any rate, it's awfully late…"

And with that he yawned again, deeply, and laid back. "Goodnight, Allena."

In the faint light of the fire flickering just beyond the tent flap, she watched him stretch, close his eyes, and relax into his sleeping bag. As she did, her pulse ratcheted up a few notches. Should she just say it? Did she really need to? Surely he already knew, after everything they'd been through?

_Trust me, sis. Guys don't tend to understand things unless they're stated plainly. Never trust a guy to pick up on a subtle hint. Or a not-so-subtle hint. In fact, what might seem like a flashing neon sign to you is probably completely invisible to him._

_If you have something you want him to know, just say it._

She never thought she'd be taking relationship advice from her sister. Her tongue felt numb, and her mouth didn't want to open; but she forced it open anyways, and she compelled her tongue to move.  
"I love you."

In the space of those three words she sensed Wilson go from half-asleep to wide awake, as though she'd run an electric current through him.

She saw him sit up in the dim light, and at once she started babbling. "That's what I said. I mean, um, wrote," she corrected hastily. "That's what I wrote. Um. I just figured I ought to let you know, you know, in case we didn't see each other again. I mean, I figured you probably already knew, but just in case, I figured…you know…um…uh…uh…"

Her mouth was moving like a chicken thrown onto a hockey rink, flapping around frantically without accomplishing much of anything.

Thankfully, Wilson didn't let that go on too long. He rolled back over, settling himself just beside her, and he pecked her quickly on the lips to stop her talking. She swallowed heavily.

He let out a long, contented sigh. "I love you, too," he replied. Then, after a hefty pause, he added, "As I said that evening in the Thornwood Base, when I could be absolutely sure I wouldn't be rejected."

She couldn't help a disbelieving snort. "Rejected?"

Then it occurred to her how terrifying those three words had been to her not fifteen seconds ago, and she relented, "Ah, okay, yeah, I guess I can see why you'd be worried."

He let out a small huff of breath. "Indeed. I believe I've told you before how much I've always feared failure. Failing you – failing to meet that standard, to inspire that degree of trust and closeness – would have been a bit more than I think I could have managed. Knowing that my fears were baseless…I feel equal parts relieved and silly."

She smiled in the shadows, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose. "Yeah, I feel the same way. Man, my sister makes falling in love look so easy."

Wilson clamped a hand over his mouth and honked with laughter. He forced it down to a low, breathless bray, not wanting to wake Wolfgang. "Ah, yes. You mentioned something about your sister's extensive experience with matters of love. I believe you said…what was it?"

"She falls in love at the drop of a hat."

He snorted again. "Yes, that."

She was chuckling softly, too. What was doubly funny was knowing that her sister would be laughing herself hoarse at the awkwardly sappy situation her younger sibling had ended up in.

At last Wilson petered off, then rolled over back to his own sleeping bag. Allena was just about ready to go to sleep by then, but as she laid back down there was a bit of commotion as Wilson began wresting his sleeping bag into a different position. He wrapped the blanket up, dusted the leathers between them off, and set his sleeping bag immediately beside hers, doing away with the distance they usually maintained. He settled down, reaching an arm out and draping it around her waist. "If you don't mind…?" He asked cautiously.

She shivered, but shook her head. She didn't mind at all. Actually…

She undid her own sleeping bag and adjusted her mat and covers. When she was done, she was curled up directly against Wilson, their sleeping bags overlapping to form a cocoon big enough for two.

He made a pleased noise, slipped an arm under her head, and pulled her close. She draped an arm over him, laying her head down on his shoulder.

"Comfy?" She asked.

"Very," he said softly.

* * *

Allena found herself standing in darkness.

Not total darkness – there were two Greek pillars on either side of her, topped with golden flames. These were extremely bright, but strangely, they didn't cast their light very far. She could see the path she was on, but not more than five or six feet beyond.

It was a black and white checkerboard trail, three squares wide, the squares roughly two feet on each side. Past this, the flooring was unbroken grey slate etched with beautiful, swirling patterns. It looked familiar, and it took her a long moment to figure out why. It looked just like the chessboard prison that had held Wes.

As she thought this, two more lights flickered to life in front of her as the ones she was standing by winked out. She was swallowed by darkness, and she immediately felt a violent and dangerous presence home in on her. She stumbled forward quickly into the light.

She paused to look around, but as she did so the lights winked out again and two more lit up in front of her. It looked like whatever was controlling the lights wanted her to keep moving.

She ran forward to get into the new circle of luminance, but she barely reached it before it, too, winked out and was replaced with a new one further along. The presence in the darkness behind her snarled happily, and icy panic gripped her as she realized that she was now in a race.

She flung herself forward. Darkness was behind her, light ahead, and she barely managed to reach each new set of pillars before the thing managed to catch up to her. Once she felt a rush of air on the back of her head as it took a swipe and missed.

_This is a dream, isn't it? Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream…_

She saw several branching paths leading away into darkness, also lined by pillars, but their lights never winked on. She was being led along a main, central path—

No. Finally, one of the side paths was illuminated, and she almost ran straight past it into the darkness ahead. She stopped at the last moment and a frustrated roar sounded right in front of her where the light cut off abruptly. She backed off and went down the newly lit path.

As she made her way down this, the pace slowed. The lights stayed on long enough for her to jog between them, then walk, and finally she realized they were lighting themselves at her own pace, coming on as she approached them and flickering off as she drew away.

After another minute of walking she saw a tall, golden gate before her, and she paused just outside of it.

She didn't want to go in there.

It seemed she didn't have a choice. The gate swung open just as the light she was standing in winked out. She ran in and the gates slammed shut behind her.

As soon as she was in, fires began lighting all around her. They branched out from the road she was on to illuminate a series of twisting marble paths, all lined with statues. She was disturbed to see that they were all rooks, knights, and bishops…though not clockwork, and not moving. Instead, these were made of black and white marble. It seemed that these were genuine statues.

Still, she kept her eyes on them as she made her way along. The estate was surrounded by a finely wrought, tall gold fence; the grounds were covered in statues, planters containing flowers, berry bushes and other fruits, and large golden cages filled with birds and butterflies.

Also present was an entire orchard of pomegranate trees, the sight of which made her mouth water. Pomegranates were her favorite fruit in the world.

_And such was the temptation that she ate six pomegranate seeds, no more, no less; but this would prove to be her undoing, for she had tasted the food of the underworld…_

She dragged her eyes away from the trees laden with their plump red fruits, and kept walking forward. Ahead of her lay the mansion.

It towered above, high enough that the roof was in darkness, and for all she knew it went on forever. It was all done in dark wood, deep slate, and polished iron. Gargoyles lined the parapets, and vines snaked their way smoothly up pillar and stone. It struck her as beautiful and sinister, but there was another feel to it, one that jarred her a bit.

Her sister's favorite game had always been The Sims, largely because she'd loved building new homes. Linda would always call her in to come look at her newest creations.

_Look, I made this one to be really compact, sustainable, on a tight budget._

_Here, this one is like a druid's home. Big gardens, ponds, woodsy feel. How does it look?_

She looked up at _this_ house and frowned.

_I was going for an Edgar Allen Poe vibe here. Something gothic. Do you like it?_

Slowly, she shook her head. But, having revealed all they needed to, the lights around the estate started going out symmetrically, two by two. Darkness was closing in, and there was only one place left to go. She walked straight towards the mansion, and just as the last lights flickered out she reached the porch, and the door swung open.

She blinked at the flood of radiance that streamed out, casting her shadow long and dark upon the ground behind her. This door, and the windows flanking it, may have been the only source of light around for a hundred miles.

She walked in, and as soon as she stepped over the threshold, she was gripped with cold fear. Her heart jumped into her throat, her palms started sweating, and she felt almost faint. There was something else in this house, and she really didn't want to meet it.

Sadly, as before, she had no choice. Even as she walked down the posh red carpet towards what was likely the main hall, she tried to wake herself up – to no avail. She couldn't capture the feeling of real life, couldn't feel Wilson beside her, couldn't make herself hear the faint crackling of the fire or the rustling of the evening breeze.

All she could feel was whatever was on the other side of the door before her.

It was a tall, oaken thing. The handles were black as onyx, and they turned themselves the moment she looked at them. The door swung open, and she walked in.

The hall was magnificent. The red carpet ended, a path of swirling slate replacing it. The rest of the floor was polished, checkerboard marble, the inverse flooring of the path outside. Along the hall were alcoves lined by artfully wrought iron, each containing a statue of the very man who stood at the end of the hall, on a tall set of jet-black stairs with golden railing. In his inky suit with the curling spaulders, his crisp white undershirt, and vest that matched the swirling slate flooring, his cigar in one hand and a twisted red carnation in the other, there really was only one word to describe him.

Dapper.

The only thing he lacked was the smile.

The Maxwell she knew always greeted her with a smile of some sort, except in the most extreme circumstances. A smirk, a grin, a tight-lipped crocodile smile or at least some bare hint of amusement were all normal.

Now, his expression was entirely blank. As were his eyes. They were pure white.

As she approached him, her body moving more of its own volition than her own by then, he stepped slowly down the stairs to greet her. "Good evening, Miss Jones. Tell me, what do you think of the estate? I believe it will be to your liking."

She said nothing, only watching him as she came to a halt some six feet away from the base of the stairs. He reached the bottom and stood a short distance from her, waiting for a response. When he received none, he continued. "I put a good deal of time and effort into it. It would be polite to acknowledge this, no?"

Her eye twitched. Now that he was off the stairs she looked at the floor beneath his feet, and saw something that disturbed her greatly.

He cast no shadow. None at all.

She recalled the struggling man she'd seen bound to the throne, bound to the floor, and wondered where he'd gone. And as she looked back up to the demon that stood in front of her, his voice and gaze bereft of anything resembling a soul, she said, "You're not Maxwell, are you?"

He had begun to take a step towards her, but at her question he went perfectly still. His head cocked slowly to the side, like a dog that had heard a strange noise.

Then, the thing that looked like Maxwell spoke.

"Hmm. Observant, aren't you? How easily you see through the charade."

His voice sounded very strange, as though it were coming from a deep chasm in the earth, echoing up through the stone until it reached his mouth.

She couldn't move, and she couldn't wake up. All she could do was stand there and speak. "Where is Maxwell?"

The thing replied, "Mr. Carter is indisposed. He would no doubt send his regards, were he aware of this little meeting."

_Mr. Carter?_

Damnit. Damnit. Every instinct, body, mind, and soul were telling her to get away from this thing. Whatever it was, it was worse than anything Maxwell was capable of.

The thing's neck went straight again, and it said, "You do not seem to quite understand, Miss Jones. I am _every_ terrible thing Maxwell is capable of. I am every bad thing he's ever done, every ounce of suffering he's caused. And what a delightful plaything he was," the being said. Then its eyes flashed with sickening white light, and Allena was sure they locked onto her, pupils or no. "Until he met _you."_

The thing stepped towards her, and she finally found that she had the strength to step back. She did so, forcing one heavy footfall for each easy step the demon took. "I'd thought him broken long ago. Then you came here. You, with your _civility_ and _class._ You, with your _kindness_ and _warmth._ You, who looked so much like the vixen he'd assumed dead all these long, lovely years." It took a deep breath and said quietly, "And then you showed him the picture."

She tried to turn and run, but its hand shot out to span the six-foot gap between them, turning into solid ink as it stretched across the room to take her by the throat. Its eyes burned with malice.

_"When I have you, I will rip you apart. I will kill you again, and again, and again. I will make **him** kill you, and what's more I will make him **enjoy it.** I'll use his hands to peel your skin off in strips, to wrench your bones from their sockets. I'll make him throttle the life from you every night before bed, watching the light go out in your eyes in lieu of a sunset. And by your own vow, I will do this until this world crumbles to **dust."**_

Its hand had been tightening around her neck, holding her still as it walked Maxwell's body towards her. At last it closed the distance, leaned down to eye level, and said, "Or at least until I get bored of you."

She tore her eyes from his and looked up at the ceiling, down at the floors, around at the statues, looking for something, anything to help her, to break this hold on her…

She saw a plain, cherrywood door with a golden handle just behind the stairs. It stood out to her for a reason she didn't understand, and with the last of the breath in her throat she croaked, "Max…well…?"

The thing tensed, then said, "Consider this a taste of the pleasures to come. My dear," it finished in crude facsimile of the man it was intimidating.

And it snapped her neck.

* * *

Allena's eyes shot open to the darkness of the tent. The fire was getting low, and she heard a shuffling of logs outside as someone – Wilson, she noticed he was missing from her side – restocked it.

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She was frozen, utterly frozen, and soul-rending terror was coursing through her mind as if someone was pressing a live wire to the part of her brain that dealt with fear.

Wilson finished stoking the fire and returned, pushing back the tent flap. His expression was one of a man only half-awake, but the light of the fire briefly illuminated her petrified features before the flap fell again, and seeing her expression he came fully awake. He dropped to kneel beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Allena? Allena, are you alright?"

Alright? Alright? She didn't know. Was she? She couldn't tell, and she couldn't draw breath to explain; to explain how she'd felt the tendons in her neck tearing as the thing in her dream had twisted it beyond its breaking point; how she'd felt her vertebrae grinding against each other, being wrenched from their alignment with a sickening snap; how she'd felt her spinal cord go, that highway of nerves connecting her brain to her body being torn apart like a strand of spider webs.

Was she dead? Dying? Surely, she must have been. She could swear she even heard Maxwell chattering at her on the edge of her consciousness, ready to welcome her back, and that voice sounded very, very real.

But even as she lay in the grips of paralysis, another voice echoed in her head. She couldn't remember whose voice, nor what the conversation had been about, only that it was soothing beyond belief and that it had told her,

_If you find that you can't move or breathe, just focus on one single part of your body, like your pinky finger, and try to move that. Just try to wiggle your pinky._

She forced her focus off of her dream, off of the jovial rambling that wouldn't let up, even off of Wilson, who she could see was beginning to panic. She focused on her pinky, relaxed everything else…

And it moved.

At once the paralysis was gone. The fear vanished in an instant, like a switch being flipped, and she gasped for air. She clenched her hands a few times, and very, very carefully, she moved her neck.  
Left. Right. She lifted it, then let it drop. At last she reached back to feel it.

It was fine.

She closed her eyes and relaxed as Wilson cupped her face in his hand. "Allena, please, speak to me. Are you alright?"

She let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry. I just…had a nightmare."

She opened her eyes to see his eyes sparkling with sober thought. "Hmm. Tell me, when you woke, were you unable to move?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"And unable to breathe, as well?"

"Uh, huh."

"Did you perchance hear voices, or see anything strange?"

She cracked her knuckles, something she tried not to do too often, and said, "I heard a voice, yes. It sounded real, but looking back I can tell it wasn't."

He made a thoughtful sound and asked one more question. "And while you were in this fit, did it feel like you were in imminent danger – a fear like you'd never felt before?"

She got the feeling he knew what had just happened to her. "Yup. Do you know…?"

"Yes," he said quickly and calmingly. "I've had that before. It came up during my more advanced schooling, when I was going to bed beset by stress every night. It was occasionally accompanied by nightmares. I went and saw a doctor about it, and he said not to worry; these attacks happen to many people. They aren't harmful. That said, the nature of your nightmare is of greater interest to me."

"Ugh," she grunted as she went over everything that had just happened in her mind. Maxwell had prepared a home for her. He was waiting for her to die. Was there any part she could tell Wilson without alluding to the deal she had made?

She shuddered as she recalled exactly what she'd just had the conversation with, and she said, "I was talking to Maxwell, but it wasn't Maxwell. It was…I don't know, some _thing_ that had taken control of him."

Wilson looked a bit taken aback. "Maxwell, but not Maxwell? What makes you say that?"

She laid her head back down on his chest as he crawled back into their cocoon. "The things he said. The way he felt. He was just…different. And when I asked him – you're not Maxwell, are you? – he confirmed it. It's like…it's like…" She shook her head helplessly, unable to muster the words to describe what made the thing different. "I don't know. Crueler, I suppose."

"Maxwell is a very cruel man. Perhaps he was simply trying to frighten you? Or perhaps this, on an odd chance, happened to just be a dream after all?"

"No, I don't think so."

Wilson hummed, and Allena got the sense that he didn't quite believe her. "Well, whatever the case, he isn't here now. Presumably," he added drily. "And even if he does show up, I'll keep you safe. You have my word on that."

She hugged him close. If he didn't believe her, that was fine. She didn't want him getting too interested in Maxwell – and potentially discovering the deal she'd made with him. "I know you will."

"Goodnight, my love."

The new familiarity filled her with a warmth to dispel the last chill of fear that remained from her dream, and she settled down to let exhaustion claim her.

"Goodnight, Wilson. I love you."


	33. Mother Issues

Allena spent the next two solid days cleaning. Wolfgang and Wilson spent the next two solid days rebuilding.

By the time Allena would finish cleaning and organizing one part of the base, they would have finished up the repairs on another, allowing her to start on that part. After two days, the base was looking better than it ever had.

But Wes still wasn't back.

Allena was sure that, upon failing to find her, he would come back eventually. That said, she had no idea how long it would take for him to return. She hoped it would be soon, and she refused to even entertain the notion that he might not come back at all.

It was noon on their third day of renovations when they finally finished up, stepping back to take it all in. Wolfgang folded his arms in front of his chest and said, "Looks nice. Very, very nice."

Wilson and Allena both agreed. Allena said, "The new cabinets look great, you guys. Those handles are beautiful, Wolfgang."

Wolfgang had carved handles for each cabinet, themed for what they held. The weapons cabinet had hooked blades for handles, the medicine cabinet had winged serpents, and the edibles cabinet had vines and little bunches of fruit. "Yes, I think I did good job with them. Pretty handles for mighty cabinets. Wilson does very good job with designs, too!"

Wilson nodded. "I took the time to account for what they would be holding, and designed each one to maximize space and offer greater opportunity for organization. No more generic shelving for us," he said haughtily.

Wolfgang laughed. "Yes, is very good! Looks good, too. Wilson is mighty craftsman!"

Allena said, "I can't help but agree," and Wilson puffed up at the compliment.

"Well," he said. "Everything is clean, everything is organized, and we still have the whole day ahead of us. How shall we spend it?"

Allena eyed her boomerang, which was sitting on her personal desk, outside of the weapons cabinet. "I'd love to practice with my boomerang. And maybe I'll head over to the other base, tidy that one up a bit. But maybe we could go look for Webber again, first?"

The mood dropped a bit at the suggestion. They'd gone to see Webber on Allena's first morning back, but they hadn't been able to find him. They'd wandered all over the forest calling for him, even going to his cave and calling quietly in while the spiders slept, but Webber had been nowhere to be found.

She could tell the idea wasn't a popular one at once, but she was worried about him. If they didn't want to go, she'd go alone and not fault them at all. It wasn't a dangerous journey anymore, not with all the experience she'd gained with the territory.

But to her surprise Wilson said, "Yes, I think that would be a good idea. We ought to make sure he didn't do as Wes did and wander off to find you."

Wolfgang nodded, but said, "Yes. Is good idea to find little spider boy. Wolfgang, however, will not be joining you. Is good time to gather up extra foods. Will go on frog hunt. Maybe pick up some bunnies. You tell Webber to come for dinner when you find him, eh?"

"Will do," she replied. "We'll try to be back in a few hours, okay?"

"Before dinner is best. I like your cooking much more than my own. I am mighty in many things – cooking is not one."

She and Wilson got ready to go, strapping on their spears and storing some honey for Webber. The flowhive was really doing wonders, and they'd gathered another full jar from the hive. At this rate they really would have enough honey to last them all of winter, and they used it as a regular sweetener with meals now. Nothing quite like a glass of warm, sweetened beefalo milk before bed.

They spent the hike chatting. Allena talked about school, her plans for the future, places she would like to visit; Wilson talked about his own education, some of his ordeals in the Constant, and his childhood. They talked about their childhood pets; Wilson's family had had a sweet German shepherd that had practically treated him like her own puppy as a child, but after her death he'd never connected with an animal. Instead he tended to regard them as utilities. Like the beefalo.

They gave the beefalo herd a wide berth as they passed through the field. As Wilson had pointed out when they'd come two days prior, they were in heat and likely to attack. Allena could still see the telltale red blush on their behinds, so it would be a good idea to give her buddy some privacy for another week or so.

"At least we'll have plenty of milk and butter this summer," she noted cheerfully as one of the smaller males eyed her aggressively from across the plain.

"Quite," said Wilson, a bit distastefully. He really didn't understand her attachment to the creatures.

They reached the Deerclops Forest quickly, and headed for Webber's den.

They approached the cave and Allena told Wilson to wait while she went and checked to see if Webber was there. He obliged without protest. She smiled slightly as she recalled a time when he would have been reluctant to let her tiptoe alone past a dozen dormant spider nests, but now he didn't even bother telling her to be careful. They were both veterans when it came to spiders.

She made her way quickly and carefully to the cave. "Webber?" She called quietly as she gained the entrance. "You in there?"

There was no answering voice or shuffle, so she pulled out her flashlight and clicked it on.

She'd never actually seen inside Webber's cave before, it being so dark in there, but now she looked around and was quite surprised by how homey it looked. There were lovely little shelves made of twigs bound to the wall with webbing. Bundles of dried flowers hung from the ceiling in silken garlands, and what was unmistakably a silk loom was strung between two tall stalagmites in the back of the cave, a half-finished weaving strung between them.

It took her a long moment to figure out what it was, but when she did she gasped. It was a tapestry of her, Wilson, Wes, and what would likely be Wolfgang when it was finished, standing together in a portrait pose. It was far from perfect, but it was clearly recognizable as them, and Allena wondered how long Webber had spent on it. She was amazed at the level of detail he had achieved using only one color – white. Other tapestries hung on the walls, though all were smaller and featured things like birds and flowers and spiders. One, hung just over his bed, was very peculiar. She could make out six slanted eye shapes and some sort of triangular pattern in the middle, but she'd never seen anything like that in real life, so it was difficult to tell exactly what it was supposed to be.

His bed was a huge, cushy beanbag of silk plastered in the corner of the cave, well away from the minimal sunlight that got in through the entrance. It was empty.

She walked over and inspected it, and looking at it gave her the impression that it hadn't been slept in for a while, though she couldn't define why. It wasn't dusty or anything. It just seemed…cold.

She sighed and retreated back out of the cave, between the nests to Wilson. "He's not there."

Wilson looked troubled. "I see. Well, perhaps we could wander the forest calling for him? Maybe he's out looking for food."

That was probably their best bet, though there was one more place she wanted to check. "I'm going to go check the Deerclops skull really quickly. It's a long shot, but maybe he moved in there? I think that's where his mama long-legs lives, so…I dunno…"

She trailed off as Wilson nodded. "It's very possible he went to her for comfort. To be honest," he lowered his voice and leaned down to her. "I believe he may have adopted you as a mother to some degree. Your loss was quite shocking for him."

She bit her lip. "Yeah, that's the sense I got as well. I'm really, really worried about him."

He nodded, looking at her with a pitying expression. "I'll head in the direction of the bee field. Perhaps we could meet back at Glommer's statue in…oh, say, twenty minutes?"

She nodded. "Sounds good."

He took off and she turned to the clearing that was adjacent to Webber's clearing. She got there to see that more spider nests had popped up around the skull, covering the entrance she'd previously used, so she had to scout all around the clearing to find enough connecting slivers of unwebbed land to reach the skull. She carefully hopped through the clearing as though it were a maze. Or a field full of active landmines.

She wasn't about to just call out to Webber. That would wake up every spider within fifty feet – a losing proposition, as the nests had doubled in both size and number with the spring bounty. No, she would get up close to the skull den and whisper to it, maybe give it one quick jab. Mama long-legs was probably a pretty big spider, and would likely be correspondingly slow. Allena was confident that, should it wake up to come after her, she would be able to run off and lose it in the woods before it could even extricate itself from its hidey hole.

She gazed in the empty eye socket, reminiscing about the battle that had taken place there. It was very strange to look back on it and see what little remained of the once titanic creature that had threatened to destroy everything they had built. The remains of the skeleton had been totally scattered about the clearing, arm and leg bones jutting out of various nearby nests. Only the skull, the spine and the ribcage remained where they had fallen, an eternal testament to Maxwell's failed wrath.

She leaned forward and called softly into the eye socket. "Webber? Hey, Webber, are you in there?"

No movement. No response. She tried again. "Webber, it's Allena. I'm back. Hello? Are you there?"

This time the nest shuddered a bit. She heard a deep, rattling hiss…but also something else. It sounded like a confused, "Huh?"

Was that a trick of her hopeful mind, or was Webber really in there?

She tried again, this time using a stick she'd picked up to jab the nest slightly, pulling back just a bit on the webbing until it snapped back into place. Just like knocking, but for spiders.

"Webber, it's Allena! Are you there?"

There was silence and stillness for a split second. Then, what was unmistakably Webber's voice came out of the nest…and it didn't sound happy.

"Allena? Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, nonononononono…"

Then the nest shuddered.

Two legs, each as thick as young pine trunks, shot out of either side of it.

She felt the blood drain from her face as another pair of legs shot out. Then another, and another. Finally, the sheet of webs in the eye socket rippled, and she had just enough time to hop back a couple of feet onto a clear patch of ground before mama long-legs emerged.

Allena squeaked in terror at the monster she had awoken. This was not a tiger spider. In fact, it was no normal spider at all. Its legs were each about eight feet long and tipped with wicked, spear-sharp, white bone spurs. It had six glowing white eyes, slanted back and narrowed malevolently. Its mouth was a horror show in itself. It was triangular, a bit like the mouths of some varieties of leech. It was lined with sharp white teeth, and two long fangs jutted out of the bottom of the pyramidal maw. Allena was immediately stricken with a sense of familiarity, and she realized that this was the creature whose picture was woven above Webber's bed – Mama-long legs.

Its bulbous black body was completely hidden. It was lodged inside the Deerclops' remains, its head sticking out through the eye socket and its back covered by the spine, ribcage, and excessive amounts of webbing, which all curled around its body in a perfect, form-fitting suit of armor. The Deerclops' upper fangs jutted out beneath the spider queen's own, providing lethal protection from the underside.

This was no normal spider. This was a Queen amongst spiders.

As the spider queen forced its bulbous form off the ground, it screeched furiously and shook itself. The antlers, which had been draped with webs, cracked and fell off, the extra weight toppling to the ground. The lower jaw, too, detached and fell away.

Allena needed to move. She turned and began loping through the maze of webs as they rustled and came to life. Spiders spilled onto the path behind her, taking note of her and squealing with equal parts rage and excitement as they discovered the tasty prey that had managed to worm its way so deeply into their territory.

She reached the edge of the clearing and heard Webber's voice, shrill with panic, yell, "Allena! Run!"

Then he started wailing, his shrieking hiss causing a collective pause in the clearing. She turned her head, briefly, to see what was happening. The spiders had all stopped to look back at Webber, the spider queen looking down at him as well. Then, its eyes trailed up to her and it roared, cutting off Webber and flinging one of its legs forward in a sign that was easy, even for her, to interpret.

_ATTACK!_

The spiders all turned back towards her as the queen herself began the pursuit.

Allena turned and began sprinting into the forest. There was no way she was going to head in Wilson's direction; there were far too many spiders to even dream of fighting, and she didn't want to risk him running into them accidentally. They covered the ground in a black flood, patches of sick yellow bubbling up as the dozen or so tiger spiders in the group struggled to extricate themselves and leap forward towards their prey. The queen made her way carefully but steadily forward, taking care to avoid stepping on her children as she waded through them.

Thankfully, spiders were no match for her in a footrace, not even the tigers, and Allena was sure they would give up eventually. Really, as scary as all of this was, it wasn't too big a deal. She'd just run them out of energy then head back to Wilson.

As she ran, slowing down every now and then to look back, she saw that the queen was keeping pace with her subjects in spite of the numerous branches and shrubs her webbing was getting tangled in. Unlike the treeguards, for whom the forest seemed to bow gracefully away, the spider queen simply pushed through the foliage. Her sticky web armor ripped up bush and branch without qualm, taking whatever part of the forest deigned to touch her along for the ride.

Still, she was falling steadily behind, and Allena sincerely doubted that the queen would be willing to keep up the chase much longer.

As she put on another burst of speed, Webber burst out of the foliage to her right. He'd looped around to catch up to her without having to run through the river of spiders.

Allena grinned widely upon seeing her friend. "Webber! Hey! I'm back!"

Webber's mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide with alarm. He hissed in his own spider tongue for a moment before saying, "Yes! Allena back! Happy! But…you woke up mama long-legs! Sad!"

She laughed and upped the pace. "Don't worry!" She replied. They both had to pause for breath periodically, given how fast they were running. "I can outrun these guys…easy-peasy! Sorry about…the mess though!"

Webber clicked his fangs sharply, the bouncing jog making his jaw clack. "Is okay! Mama long-legs…not happy though!"

"My bad!"

Then Webber grinned, threw an arm in the air, and whooped. "Allena is back! We missed Allena…very much!"

"I missed…you too Webber!"

Low on breath, they cut off the conversation by mutual consent, running until they reached the tallfort. She was surprised to see a few tallbirds strutting around it, seemingly rebuilding their nests. How had the population come back? She'd thought she Deerclops had wiped them all out.

 _Probably a gift from Maxwell,_ she thought wryly.

They got about ten feet into the open space of the rocky plain, turning back to see that most of the spiders had left off. The queen and maybe a dozen of her entourage remained, but as they emerged from the forest, they stopped. The queen looked out and hissed something at Webber, who replied promptly.

_"Achatsssssssacha, accha tssach tssssachtss achassstssach!"_

The spider queen rebutted whatever he'd said. Allena listened to the back and forth for a moment as she regained her breath, then asked, "Uh…what are you two talking about?"

Webber replied, "Mama long-legs is telling me to grab you and bring you over. I am saying, 'No, she is my friend. Friends are not for eating.' She is very confused."

"I hope she isn't angry at you?"

Webber shook his head. "No! Mama long-legs could never be angry at me! She just thinks I am a little dumb."

The spider queen once again called out to him, waving her legs in the air and tapping one on the ground. Webber replied, and she mellowed with a low hiss.

Webber perked up. "She says she will go back home. Not worth the long run for such little prey."

Allena, too, cheered up at the news. "Glad to hear it. Tell her I said I'm sorry for waking her up, and that I think she has a very impressive nest."

Webber relayed the message, and the spider queen got a look on her face that could only be described as confusion. Maybe she wasn't used to her prey trying to communicate with her, let alone complimenting her.

The queen bristled a bit and turned to go, but as she did a chill breeze swept through the air and she paused, looking around curiously.

Maxwell stepped out of the shadows.

Webber squeaked in terror and ducked behind Allena as the black-suited man stepped forward, approaching the spider queen as though she were no more intimidating that a well-trained dog. He gave her a polite nod which she responded to with a low, garbled hiss. Other than that, she did not react to him.

He turned to look at them. "Good day, my dear. I see you've finally made it back. I'm sorry I couldn't greet you sooner, but your return slipped my notice. Forgive me my lapse of attention."

He bowed slightly, and Allena realized with disconcertion that he had no recollection of the meeting in the mansion some nights prior. That truly hadn't been him.

She decided not to mention it to him, instead saying, "Uh, no problem." She paused, frowning as she tried to figure out what else to say, and finally settled on, "…Go away."

He looked stricken. "Go away? Why, my dear, I'm wounded! Aren't you pleased to see me? I'm certainly pleased to see _you."_

He shot a predatory grin at her, and Webber popped his head around and cried, "Bad man! Shoo! We does not want you here!"

The spider queen hissed again, and evidently she was talking to Webber because he responded at once, voice frantic, tiny arms twitching in agitation as he pointed at Maxwell.

The spider queen listened to him curiously, then her eyes widened, and she turned to look at Maxwell. To Allena's shock, the queen roared at him, lifted a leg, and brought it down to impale the man.

Maxwell snapped his fingers, grin dropping away into an irritated scowl. "Now, now," he said darkly. "No need for that." The spider queen's leg stopped abruptly an inch from his back, and drew back to rest calmly on the ground. Once again, the queen hissed. This time it sounded…strange. Wavering. Almost as though she were sedated.

Maxwell turned his cold gaze on Webber, stared at him until he dropped his eyes, then dismissed him and addressed Allena. "I must say, my dear, I'm getting a bit impatient to see our deal closed. More so than even after that close call with little Wortox."

Allena shivered. Impatient to see their deal closed? And…what? "Close call with Wortox? What do you mean?"

Maxwell sighed. "Honestly, if that little beast hadn't reigned himself in, it would have been quite impossible for me to collect on our bargain. Curse that fiend's father, had I known what he'd had in mind, I would have…"

He scowled again and shook his head. "Ah, but it hardly matters now. You used your penchant for bringing out the best in people, and it all worked out." His voice was dripping with disdain, and his gaze hardened even further as he stared at her. "At any rate, I think you've had enough time here."

Allena's did a double take at the phrase, not quite taking in what he'd said. "What?"

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "You heard me. You've had enough time. I think it's time you owned up to your part of the bargain. Now then…"

He turned to the spider queen and began speaking in that hissing tongue. Webber tugged on her sleeve and said meekly, "What bargain is bad man talking about?"

Allena swallowed heavily and turned to Webber, patting him on the shoulder and saying, "Oh, nothing much. Don't worry about it."

Webber looked confused, and Allena said, "Really, Webber. It's between me and Maxwell. Don't worry about it."

Webber nodded cautiously as Allena turned Maxwell's words over in her mind. He wanted her to own up to her part of the bargain? She wasn't obliged to submit to him until her second death. If he was impatient to collect…

The blood drained from her face. Just as she reached the morbid conclusion that his words suggested, the air was rent with a horrifying shriek.

Allena and Webber both whipped back around to see Maxwell sinking into shadows with a wide grin. The spider queen was staring at Allena with hunger in her eyes. Her mouth was hanging open widely, saliva dripping from her fangs, and she began crawling out of the forest towards them.

Webber whimpered. "Mama long-legs?"

He hissed something at her, but mama long-legs didn't respond. She simply roared again and doubled her pace, heading straight for Allena.

She turned and ran. She darted past the spider queen towards the forest, knowing that there was nothing that could help her in the direction of the tallfort. She expected to have to dodge a few of the tiger spiders as she ran by them, but to her surprise she saw those last few remaining soldiers stepping backwards, cringing and cowered from their own queen.

_What the…?_

As Allena reached the edge of the forest, the queen crouched on the ground, bunched up, and grunted. There was a sickening squelching sound, and three spiders popped out of the queen's…uhh…egg-maker.

These three new spiders looked at the cowering spiders with absolutely no recognition, and the queen's original entourage hissed at them. They disregarded this, locking onto Allena as she turned to sprint into the forest.

It didn't take long for Allena to realize what had happened. Maxwell had driven the queen into some sort of rage, compelling her to attack Allena and seemingly giving her the strength and endurance to continue her flight. Indeed, she was barely keeping ahead of the massive spider now, and the little spiders, too, were faster than they should have been.

Webber ran alongside his mama long-legs, shouting at her and trying to turn her from her path, but the queen ignored him completely. It was like she didn't even notice he was there, or care.

Allena ran, not knowing exactly where she was going, just desperate to keep ahead of her pursuer. At last Webber ran up to her and yelled, "Mama is not listening! Something is…wrong with her!"

She looked over at Webber and said in a pained voice, "Webber! I don't think…she's herself anymore! I don't think she'll stop…until I'm dead!"

Webber wailed.

Allena's heart just about broke. If Webber couldn't call the queen off of her, then they would have to kill her. But that thing, horrifying as it was, was Webber's adopted mother.

 _Damn_ Maxwell!

_I am every terrible thing Maxwell is capable of. I am every bad thing he's ever done, every ounce of suffering he's caused…_

Was Maxwell really to blame for this? Or was it that thing? That demon…?

It was too much to worry about just then. As she passed in sight of Glommer's statue, she saw Wilson off to her left. She only had a moment to look at him, she was moving so quickly, but his expression was one of comical shock as he saw her and Webber sprinting from the giant spider queen and her new, corrupted entourage.

Wilson ran over to join them, and behind her she heard the spider queen pause as it crouched down to birth more spiders. That would give them a moment's respite. "Hey Wilson! That's Webber's…spider-mama!"

Webber replied, "She is not normally…so bad!"

Wilson yelled in reply, voice disbelieving. "What do you mean, not so bad?!"

Allena replied, "Trust me! Five minutes ago…she was downright cute!"

Webber make a miserable sound again, and Wilson yelled, "Alright! We have two options! The bee field…or the beefalo!"

Bees or beefalo. He was referring to which creatures they could goad into attacking the queen for them. Allena considered.

The bee fields? Of course the bees would attack the queen if she went rampaging through the hives, but would they be enough?

She remembered the sensation of getting stung so many times, and Webber's intense fear of it, and decided that the bee field was probably a good idea. Besides, she would rather avoid getting any beefalo killed if she could. She wasn't sure how much damage the spider queen would do to the herd, and with that Deerclops armor it would be difficult for the beefalo to do much damage. "Bee field it is!" She replied.

They turned in that direction and heard a high, spitting shriek behind them. Webber was running between Wilson and Allena, and his arms shot out and shoved them both to the side as he ducked down. A moment later a tiger spider flew over them, legs splayed out such that it would have knocked all three of them down had it hit them.

It landed in front of them and Wilson pulled out his spear and slashed it on the way past, neatly severing two of its legs and leaving it crippled. It squealed in anger, tried to crawl after them, and Allena turned just in time to see the queen step on it in her pursuit, impaling it with a long white bone-tipped leg.

Webber made a noise of horrified disbelief.

They ran towards the bee field, emerging perhaps fifteen feet ahead of the queen. She paused and turned to Wilson and Webber, saying, "It's coming after me! You guys…keep the little spiders distracted, okay? I'll lead mama long-legs…around the hives."

Wilson nodded, but Webber cringed, his legs twitching. She realized that she'd just asked him to help her kill his pseudo-mother, and she felt instantly guilty. "Uh, never mind, Webber. You just go…uh…"

The queen emerged, and there was no more time to talk. The queen roared, crouched, and birthed three more spiders. Then she shook the dead tiger spider off of her leg and came at Allena again.

Sure enough, she paid no mind to Wilson as he looped around to start stabbing her young. She had eyes only for Allena. Webber stumbled out of her way, hissing and rasping impotently in an attempt to calm her, and Allena sprinted straight into the bee field.

She needed to do this carefully. She avoided the red hives, leading the queen such that she only bumped into a few yellow ones on the outskirts, causing swarms of bees to fly out.

They flew around the queen in a furious red and yellow haze. The queen ignored them at first, then hissed furiously as the first one managed to land a sting. Most were landing on the webbing and getting stuck, but one had lit on her head and stung her just above the eye. A leg came up and brushed it off.

She roared again and continued her pursuit.

Allena gritted her teeth. There was nothing for it. She didn't want to run all the way through the field, as the red bees would be just as apt to attack her as the queen, but she had no choice. The bee population had also increased with the spring, and at least two dozen nests dotted the landscape, more than half of them red. She waited for the queen to get as close as she dared, then sprinted right in between two red hives.

The swarms appeared at once, ignoring the queen and going straight for her, exactly as she'd feared. She put on more speed and ran past another yellow hive.

One bee caught up, landed on her arm, and stung her. She gasped in pain and swatted it off, and the swarm behind her redoubled its enraged buzzing.

She heard a crash and a lot of high-pitched, agitated hums as the queen tore down another hive or two in her pursuit, then a subsequent roar of fury. The buzzing behind her diminished, she heard the queen stumble to a halt, and Allena turned back to see that the queen had knocked over one of the red hives and annihilated the yellow one.

She also saw that the spider entourage had been cut way down, and that Wilson was hacking at the other red hive. This had caused those killer bees still following her to double back to protect it. Wilson took off as soon as they drew close.

Allena felt a thrill of sick revulsion as she took in the queen. Mama long-legs had attracted the attention of perhaps five full hives by then, and her entire back had turned from a cocoon of white webbing to a seething mass of red and yellow bees. They were crawling all over her face. Two of her eyes had shut against them and were leaking pus. Her legs were flying around brushing bees off wherever they could reach, including on her other legs, but it was no use. As she opened her mouth to roar again, more bees flew in and started stabbing her gums.

Fury turned to fear, and the queen began to turn in circles. She was completely blinded by bees.

None of them were chasing Allena now, and Wilson was out of range of the others, which had returned to attack the queen. They'd also finished off her entourage, which were now just twitching masses of wings and fat red bodies.

Webber stood by, watching this with a look of abject misery.

The spider queen roared again, now in agony, and Allena's throat closed up as she recalled all the times Webber had talked about his mama long-legs.

_She curls up with me in winter for long sleeps, and always makes sure I get plenty to eat._

_She always talks to me when I am lonely, and even though she doesn't understand my jokes, she appreciates that I make them!_

_When I was little, the big spiders would bully me. Try to eat me. Mama long-legs made them stop, and I got to eat them instead!_

She clenched her fists, looked down, and took a deep breath. Then, she ran around the spider queen in a huge circle. She waved her arms and yelled, "Hey! Mama long-legs! Over here, this way!"

The spider queen heard her, turning her body heavily around to face her. She rasped in remnant fury and started struggling towards her.

Allena turned to Webber. "Webber, follow behind her and attack what's left of the nests to get the bees off of her and onto you, then run them away, okay?"

Webber looked at her, wide-eyed, and nodded. He ran around and, as soon as the spider queen was well away from the hive remains, he started punching them. As he did this, dozens of bees left off the queen and flew after him instead.

Wilson, who had returned to watch the culmination of the fight, yelled, "What are you _doing?"_

He sounded nearly mad. Allena winced and replied, "Wilson, Just make sure she doesn't spawn any more spiders!"

He made a noise of clear frustration, but ran to flank the queen in anticipation of additional spawns.

The queen, half-dead from the venom, trudged slowly after Allena as she led her from the bee field and back into the forest. Gradually, the bees left her alone and the ones that were completely stuck in her webbing armor were crushed and killed as she ran her legs back along her sides to clear them.

The legs were horribly swollen, and not long after they got back amongst the trees she saw two of them stop working. They were just dragging along behind her, the joints too swollen with bee venom to function. Another leg stopped working, and by then the queen could barely move at all. Finally, as they reached a small clearing, the queen let out a low moan and rolled over, her legs curling in on themselves.

Only two of her eyes were still open, the rest closed and oozing. Allena walked up to her, very carefully, and examined her.

Webber emerged into the clearing a few minutes later, shrieked when he saw his mama long-legs curled up on her back, and ran over to her sides and began scraping the remaining bees off of them with no regard for his own safety.

It pained Allena to watch him do this by himself, so she joined in. She pulled some emergency web-gauze out of her pack, wrapped her hands in it as thickly as she could, and started scraping the bees off of the spider queen's sides. Even so, she ended up with quite a few stings herself. Nothing compared to what Webber was enduring, though.

The queen's legs twitched, trying to stab at her, but they were almost completely paralyzed by now. The threat was nullified.

Wilson also joined them in the clearing a few moments later, and stood by watching them clear the bees off with a look of utter revulsion. He seemed angry at her actions, and she briefly took a break to explain things to him.

She walked over and said, "Wilson, this is Webber's mama long-legs. I know she's a monster—"

"Yes," he snapped quietly. _"It_ is," and she noted his use of pronoun. "A horrifying monster that needs to be put down _at once."_

She clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Wilson, she only chased me like this because Maxwell forced her to. She wasn't nearly as fast or as dangerous before he showed up. Without Maxwell's influence, there's no reason we can't just keep our distance, live and let live…"

Wilson made a disgusted sound. _"Live and let live?_ _Maxwell's influence?_ Allena, listen to yourself! Look at that thing! It needs to die!"

She looked up at him, stepped back, and pointed at the spider queen, which was now twitching and wheezing. "You want to kill her? There she is. Go ahead. Be sure to explain it to Webber, will you?"

Webber poked his head around, catching sight of them. "Hm? Explain what to Webber?"

Wilson's eyes widened. He stared at Webber for a long moment, then took a step back and looked away.

Allena watched him. Webber went back to clearing the bees.

Wilson looked at her, eyes hard and unyielding. "I'm sorry Allena, but this is too much for me. If you'll excuse me…"

Allena nodded, saying nothing, and Wilson left, heading back in the direction of the base. Before he exited the clearing, he turned back to her and said shortly, "Please be back before nightfall."

She nodded again. "Will do. I won't be too much longer."

He left. She went back to clearing the bees, and soon she and Webber had all of them off.

She couldn't blame Wilson for wanting to kill the spider queen. She was a menace, but a manageable one, Allena was sure. She felt that it was worth the risk of sparing her if it meant Webber didn't have to lose his mother.

She would have done anything to avoid losing hers.

He was sniffling miserably, and Allena went over and took his hand. "Hey. Why don't you talk to her, see if she's calmed down?"

"O-o-okee," he choked out. He went to kneel beside the queen's head, and Allena stepped back out of her line of sight.

Webber started hissing and rasping, and for a few minutes the queen just growled and wheezed. Then, gradually, the noises she was making began to sound more like the sounds she'd been producing earlier, before Maxwell had shown up.

Webber seemed encouraged by this, and he kept talking to her, soothing her, and finally she let out a low cry and lay still.

Webber went rigid, stood up, and walked over to Allena.

Her hand trembled as she reached out to him. "Oh, Webber. Is she…?"

Webber looked at her, and nodded. "Yes. She is very, very, _very_ hungry."

Allena blinked. "Hungry?"

"Yes," Webber said, still sniffling. "She is hungry, and she cannot move to feed herself. I need to get her some food."

That wasn't what she'd been expecting. She wanted to make sure Webber wasn't mistaking death for extreme hunger, and she walked over and prodded the queen with one foot.

She jumped back with a shriek as the queen came to life again, rumbling and trying to roll over and grab her.

"Ugh. Okay, uh…let's get her some food."

Webber was looking at her, mouth hanging open in shock. "Us? _We_ get her food? You…want to help mama long-legs?"

Allena pursed her lips and said, "Yeah, Webber. Of course. She's your mama, after all."

Webber's mouth trembled, his head-legs twitched, and then he let loose, flinging himself into her arms and sobbing.

"W-w-w-we missed A-A-Allena! We missed you so m-m-m-much!"

He started rubbing his face back and forth against her chest, smearing his nasty eye-ooze all over her shirt, and she took a deep, calming breath and hugged him back, trying to disregard how much time it would take to wash that out of her clothes. "I missed you too, Webber. I'm sorry I took so long to come back. Now, what do you say we help mama long-legs?"

He broke off and nodded. The two got to work at once.

Allena figured that, with all of the venom the queen had taken in already, feeding her bees wouldn't be a good idea. That said, she did go back and collect as much honey as she could from the ruined yellow hives, carrying it back and giving it to Webber to feed to her. She didn't seem to like it much, but he coaxed her into eating it, coating his long, hairy arms with it and having her clean them off. Allena went and grabbed all of the spiders Wilson had killed, avoiding the ones that had been stung to death by bees and were therefore likely full of venom. She dragged the unstung corpses back and Webber looked quite thrilled, tearing off their limbs and feeding them to the queen one by one. She liked these a lot more than the honey, and Allena was once again equal parts disgusted and fascinated by the spiders' cannibalistic tendencies.

Maybe two hours later Allena looked up. "Webber, it'll be getting dark soon. I need to go. Do you want to come with me?"

He shook his head sadly. "No. I want to be here with mama, in case anything bad comes. She still cannot move."

Indeed, though they'd spent a good hour rubbing spider glands and honey onto her hundreds of stings, the queen was still immobile, and likely would remain that way for days. It would be up to Webber to keep her safe and fed.

Allena nodded. "Okay. I'll come back when I can, okay?"

Webber nodded. Then, voice tight with emotion, he said, "Thank you for helping mama long-legs, even though she tried to eat you. She says she does not remember what happened."

"Does that mean she's sorry she tried to eat me?"

He shook his head. "No. But that was not her. That was the bad man. That was Maxwell. She will not try so hard again."

Now that things had calmed down a bit, she couldn't help but wonder if it truly was Maxwell, as she'd always thought. There was definitely more to the man than met the eye. She wondered how many of his thoughts, feelings, and actions were governed by the entity she'd met in the chessboard mansion. She also wondered if it really mattered.

_Of course it matters._

She sighed, turned to go, then stopped. "Oh, Webber. I'm sorry, I forgot. I brought you something."

Webber looked at her curiously. "Allena brought me something? A present? A toy, maybe?" He sounded excited.

She shook her head. "Not a toy, but I think you'll like it anyways. You remember how I was taken by Krampus? Well, he took me to his treasure trove, and when I left, I was able to grab a few things."

She set her backpack down and pulled out the picture she'd brought with her – the picture of Webber's human parents. Webber took the frame and looked at it.

The legs on his head went limp, and all of his eyes but the front two closed. He made a small sound in the back of his throat – happy or sad, she couldn't tell.

Then he blinked his last two eyes closed, and opened all of them. His legs twitched back into motion, and he stepped forward and hugged her again.

She hugged him back, tightly, stroking the back of his head. Without another word he stepped away, set the picture down carefully on a nearby rock, and looked at it. Then he looked at her. Then he looked at his mama long-legs.

Then he smiled.

* * *

Allena reached the base just as night was starting to fall. As she neared the entrance she heard an ongoing argument – Wolfgang's low, mellow tones, and Wilson's higher, agitated ones. As she approached the entrance she heard Wilson say, "…don't care how long he's been living in the wilderness, I'm not trusting him to know how to make a decent camp for the night! I'm going to go get her!"

"Why are you leaving her alone in first place if you are just going to become scared for her and go back?" Wolfgang's asked evenly.

Wilson growled in response, Wolfgang snorted, and Chester barked. A moment later, Wilson came rushing out of the base with her flashlight in his hand, a few torches on his back, and Chester bouncing happily at his side.

He stopped short when he saw her. "Ah. You're back."

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry I'm late. I hope I didn't worry you too much?"

Wolfgang's laughter boomed over the walls.

Wilson sighed, glaring at her as he bowed her inside. She slunk past him and went to sit down by the fire. Chester bounced after her happily as Wilson followed.

She sat down and scratched her chest-dog between the horns, the way he liked. "So, you guys save me any dinner?"

Wolfgang produced a bowl of frog-leg stew at once. The meat was tough and stringy, the vegetables were overdone, and it needed more salt, but it was edible. She was hungry enough that she gulped half the bowl down in moments. "Thanks, Wolfgang. It's good."

"No, is not, but I appreciate you fibbing to make me think it is."

She giggled and Wilson plonked down next to her on the log. They still didn't have chairs, since Krampus had destroyed her own. "So," he asked carefully. "How is Webber's…ah…spider-mama doing?"

Wolfgang sat down opposite them and stared at her, one huge, bushy eyebrow going up as he said, "Wilson says you help giant spider monster, but Wolfgang knows that not even Allena is that silly-kind. Is misunderstanding, eh?"

He lifted his bowl to his lips and took a long swallow as Allena said, "No, he's right. Webber and I spent the last few hours trying to get her back on her feet—"

Wolfgang choked on his own soup, spraying large chunks of frog and broth into the fire, which sizzled pleasantly. "You WHAT? Oh, no no no! Allena, please do not be telling me we have giant spider to deal with!"

"No!" She exclaimed, and Wolfgang calmed down…then panicked again as Allena said, "Trust me, if we just keep our distance from her, there's no reason why we can't all just get along!"

Wilson groaned, and Wolfgang's mustache began bristling as every hair went up along his body. "Allena," Wilson said, voice pained. "Why would you help that thing? It was nearly the death of you, and if Maxwell enrages it again, it will come after us and kill us all."

Allena shook her head. "Honestly, Wilson, we'll be fine. If she comes after us again, we might have to kill her, but really – we'll just lead her into the Treeguards, or set her on fire with your darts, or blow her up with some traps. We'll be okay."

"Why do you do this to me, my love?"

Wolfgang followed up on that question. "And why do you keep calling scary spider creature 'her', eh?" He sounded quite affronted by the mere idea. "Is 'it', not 'her'. 'Her' is what you call pretty lady. Or ugly lady. Or any lady. Not what you call spider."

Allena explained to him, "Wolfgang, I know you hate spiders, but that thing is Webber's mother. She's taken care of him since he came to the Constant. You remember that little boy in the picture I showed you, right? Imagine that poor kid out here, all by himself."

Wolfgang leaned back, eyes going wide as he took in the information. Then he leaned forward again, twirled his finger in his mustache, and let out a long sigh. "I see. I had not realized that big spider was little monster boy's mama. I suppose…"

Wilson said, "Oh, no, not you, too!"

Wolfgang grunted. "Wolfgang understands how important it is to have mama. To be fair, Wolfgang's mama was also big, terrifying, hairy woman that made most men scream."

The fire sizzled cheerfully again as Allena promptly spat out the mouthful of stew she'd been working on.

Wolfgang continued as though there had been no interruption. "So long as mama long-legs does not come to camp, stays in own forest, I will not bother. Only smash big spider if she comes to Wolfgang."

Wilson made a noise like an angry cat, and Allena leaned against his shoulder. "Wilson, she's Webber's mama. Please don't be angry."

He glared down at her. "I will be as angry as I please."

She bit her lip, then wrapped her arm around him and began rubbing small circles into his back. "Hey, come on. I can make it up to you. Maybe a shoulder rub tonight before bed…?"

Wilson shivered, and she saw a faint blush creeping up his neck as her fingers traveled up to his hairline. The blush deepened as they trailed down his spine and wrapped around his waist. "I can use the thermal stones. And maybe I could whip up a cup of tea?"

He made a noise of mild discomfort as she snuggled up close to him, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

She hadn't used the _please, please, please don't be mad at me?_ look since she'd first introduced him to Chester. Now, as then, he looked quite torn.

Wolfgang had finished his stew and steepled his fingers in front of him. He was not-so-casually looking around the camp, and Allena swore he was about to start not-so-casually whistling.

Finally, Wilson relented. "Fine. _Fine._ That _thing_ gets a stay of execution."

Wolfgang chuckled and attempted to pass the noise off as a sneeze. He failed, and Wilson stared at him, deadpan, over the fire. Wolfgang hopped up and said, "I will do dishes tonight, eh? Give you two rest."

He took their dishes to the sink and began washing them. While he did that, Allena stood up, stretched, and asked Wilson, "Say, have you been working on that Deerclops eye? Any progress on that?"

He shook his head. "No. I've stored it behind the camp for the time being and covered it in a few layers of leather to keep anything from happening to it, but I haven't had time to deal with it. I'll need a stronger base if I'm to make a lasting defensive device out of it – beefalo horns and gold won't work."

"I don't want to meet anything with a horn big enough to hold that thing, Wilson."

"I know, my love."


	34. One Day Late

The next morning Allena was out with Wolfgang, hacking down grass to replenish their stores, talking economics with him.

"Union of Soviet Socialist Republics was mightiest in world! Worked very fine! Yes, had some troubles, but…"

"I'm pretty sure the USSR's economic policy resulted in the starvation of around nine million people."

"I am not remembering that."

"Was your family friends with the ruling class?"

"Yes?"

"That's probably why."

He snorted as he lopped off a large tuft of grass and tossed it onto the tarp. "No, no, no. You see, works out fine. From each according to his ability—"

"To each according to his need, I get it. But have you ever considered that if you take away the majority of a person's earnings, they might not feel obligated to work anymore?"

"But it helps community - including every worker!"

"Yeah, but if a single person in that community decides to be a freeloader, everyone else is going to feel resentful. That means someone else is probably going to start freeloading, and that makes everyone even more resentful. Eventually, everyone's just sitting around waiting for everyone else to pick up the slack, because no one wants to have everything they earn taken away to feed all the people who say they aren't working because they say their back is hurting too badly, or they need to take a week off for therapy because their dog died."

"People would not make such silly excuses!"

"Dude, people at my school claim they have PTSD and need extensions on their assignments for dumber reasons than that, and my uncle has been earning thirty grand a year under the table while collecting disability for nearly a decade. When you have too many people on the system, it becomes impossible to keep track of everyone. A lot of bad people slip through the cracks."

"Then government clearly needs to do better. Yours is not doing it right."

"Funny, that's what people nowadays say about the USSR. 'Socialism works! They just didn't do it right!'"

Wolfgang snorted good-naturedly. "System worked very well in Wolfgang's circus. We took all earnings, split up evenly amongst group, everyone got what they needed. Worked fine!"

Allena nodded as she tossed another bundle of grass on the tarp. "I imagine it did. Socialism can be great in small, close-knit communities like that because you fully understand everyone's needs and everyone's abilities. But when the system gets too large, it becomes prone to corruption."

Wolfgang frowned, thinking about this. "Hm. I suppose I can see how this may happen. Still, idea is good – just need better way of implementing! Socialism is best!"

"Once we reach a post-scarcity society, sign me up." She swung heavily at another bunch of grass, grunting with the effort. "I think this sickle needs a sharpener."

"I think this sickle needs a hammer."

They both laughed.

Once they got the tarp filled up, they folded it and tied it off for transport. As Wolfgang strapped it to his back, Allena gathered up their tools and turned to the base…but froze when she saw movement on the edge of the Vargwood.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she dropped the tools.

Wolfgang heard the clatter and turned back to look at her. "Allena?" He said, voice mildly alarmed. "Are you alright? Why do you drop tools?"

She took off sprinting in the direction of the Vargwood, and Wolfgang called out after her, "Allena! What are you—"

Then she heard him gasp as he, too, saw the familiar red, black and white figure emerging from the forest, making its way towards the base.

She heard Wolfgang's feet pounding on the ground behind her as he ran to catch up. She was near enough now to see that the figure was facing away from her, his hands moving wildly as he worked to convey something or other to the companion walking by his side—

"Wes!" She cried out as she approached him.

His head whipped around. His mouth popped open in shock when he saw her, then widened into a joyful grin. He slung his backpack off his shoulders, setting it down and running over to meet her.

She ground to a halt a moment before bashing into him at full speed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. "Wes! Oh, my goodness, I missed you. When I got back and heard that you'd gone out looking for me I was so scared, I didn't know how long it would take you to come back, and no one knew where you'd gone…"

He hugged her tightly, cheek resting against her head as he spun her around in a full circle. Then he let her go and his features lit up even more as Wolfgang joined them.

"WES!" He thundered, picking their mime friend up by the waist and lifting him as though he were a child. "You leave! No note, nothing to tell us where you go! Scare us to death!"

Wes winced, then shrugged apologetically. He pointed at himself, touched his lips, then waved his hands nonchalantly.

"You'll tell us about it later?" Allena guessed, and Wes nodded as Wolfgang set him down and gave him a proper hug.

Allena could tell at once that, though the trip had been a bit rough on him – his face paint was half worn off, his clothes were ripped in several places, and his messy black hair was sticking up in tufts – he was, by and large, uninjured.

"Hey, there. You aren't that friend of his who went missing, are ya?"

Allena's eyes snapped around. She'd had eyes for no one but her friend, but now her attention was drawn to his companion.

Her jaw dropped as she took the figure in. Dark hair, work boots, heavy-duty overalls, and above all…

"Girl?" she gasped. "Girl! Another girl! WE HAVE ANOTHER GIRL! WOO!"

She threw her hands up in the air and started bouncing around wildly. This was the best thing that had happened in a long time. Better than the flow hive, better than learning how to transplant flowers, _way_ better than the houndius shootius. She finally had someone to talk girl stuff with!

The woman put her hands on her hips and replied sardonically. "Girl?"

Allena stopped, lowered her hands, and said, "Eh. Heh. Woman, I mean! Female. Uh, you know, someone who…uhh…"

The woman raised an eyebrow.

Allena blurted out, "I've been living with three guys for a while now."

The woman's serious expression cracked. The corner of her mouth twitched up. Then, she threw back her head and bellowed with laughter. "Gotcha. I can sympathize with that."

"Oh, have you been living with guys? Are they here?"

She looked around for them, but the woman just shook her head. "Nah, just me and Wes. My old job involved a lot of guys, though. Didn't have a lot of girls to chat with. One or two maybe. Name's Winona, by the way."

"Winona?" Allena clarified. The woman nodded, and she said, "What a nice name! Hi, Winona, I'm Allena! Nice to meet you!"

She rushed up and thrust her hand out, and the woman, Winona, looked at her with a mildly disbelieving look on her face. "Wow, friendly, aren'tcha?" She said as she took her hand and pumped it a couple of times.

Allena winced. She was being a bit spastic. "Yeah, sorry. I'm not always like this. I'm just really happy to have my friend back. And, you know, excited…"

"About having another 'girl' to talk to?"

She grinned sheepishly and nodded.

The woman readjusted her huge, bulging pack and Allena said, "Oh! Jeez, that looks heavy. Want to head back to base?"

Winona nodded. "Sounds good. Wes says you've got yourselves a pretty good setup here. Got room for one more?"

"Totally!"

"Good deal," Winona replied. "Can't wait to meet everyone."

As Allena turned back to the base she felt something bump into her back, and she turned around to see a familiar figure had drifted out of the tree line while they'd been talking, their conversation masking his approaching buzz. "Glommer!" She gasped, wrapping her arms around the buzzing blue bug and pulling him close. He hummed contentedly, though Allena could tell at once that there was something a little off about him.

Winona pointed to Glommer and said, "Your bug friend might be a little under the weather. He's been lagging behind for a couple of days, which is why it took us an extra day to get here. Probably just tired from the constant travel, but you might want to look him over. Also, what _is_ the thing?"

Allena wrapped Glommer more comfortably in her arms and decided to just go ahead and carry him back to base. Once he realized that he wasn't going to fall, his wings slowed to a mellower pace and he seemed to relax. "This is Glommer. He's a friend. He oozes healing goop during the full moon," she explained. She assumed it was only during the full moon, as she hadn't seen him ooze it any other time.

Winona looked at Glommer with renewed interest. "Ah, he has some practical use, then?"

Allena shrugged. "Only once a month. He doesn't really ooze outside of that. Mostly he's just a friend. Chester is a bit more useful."

"Who's Chester?" Winona asked interestedly.

At this point Wolfgang, who had been watching their interactions, stepped forward and thrust out a hand as well. "Hello! I am Wolfgang. That pack looks heavy. I can carry for you, yes?"

Winona looked up at him with a frown. "Uh, thanks but no thanks, bud. I got it."

Wes trotted over and picked up his own bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Allena was about to ask whether she could help him out with it, but decided against it. It looked a bit too heavy for her.

They headed back to base. As soon as they were through the doors she heard Winona whistle. "Wow. This place really isn't too shabby. Nice tool shelf."

Allena smiled, but it was a bit strained. She was worried about Glommer, whose wings were only buzzing sporadically by then. "Oh, yeah. If you need anything on that shelf, feel free to borrow it. We go through those tools like mad, and one of my jobs is making new ones. I have a pretty neat tool kit too, but that's for more detailed work. Do you like tools?"

Winona nodded heartily. "Manufacturing is my life. Nothin' I love more than some proper construction supplies."

"Well, you'll love my tool kit then. Black and Decker, lots of nifty things in there." she said with a heavy breath as she carried Glommer over to the first aid bench. "Hey, Wolfgang, could you grab my first aid kit? Oh, and Wes, do you have Glommer's flower? And can someone get me a bowl of water?"

Everyone hopped on her requests, Winona grabbing the water bowl. "He hasn't had anything to drink since I've seen him. Think he's thirsty?" She asked.

Allena shrugged. "He's never needed water before. Or food. Just the flower." She sat down on the first aid bench with Glommer in her arms. She settled him down and inspected him, and gently pushed back his fur to see bruises and a few small cuts all along his side.

This was disheartening. Was it just from Wilson's ill treatment of him, or had he had a rough trip?

Wes came over, eyes wide, wringing his hands. He looked at her questioningly, and she said, "It's okay, Wes. Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll recover. Did anything happen to him aside from Wilson hitting him?"

Wes shook his head, reached out, and scratched Glommer gently at his neck joint. Glommer's wings buzzed happily for a moment before going still again.

His legs were splayed out in her lap, and she looked him over thoroughly from top to bottom before saying, "Okay, Wolfgang, could you hand me a washcloth and a bowl of spider salve?"

He nodded and she got to work carefully grooming Glommer and coating the worse of the bruises and cuts with spider salve. If it could heal a broken ankle, she saw no reason for it not to work on some bruises. She also took the flower and set it in front of him, and he pushed his face into it at once and made a deep sucking sound.

That done he seemed fairly content. She stood up and carried him over to Chester's new pet bed – one of the other projects they'd managed that week while cleaning the base – and laid him in it carefully. She then picked up the entire pet bed, Glommer and all, and put it on her personal workbench. He was probably more comfortable at that kind of vantage point, given how he usually hovered most of the time.

She petted Glommer for several minutes, crooning at him, until his eyes closed and he started snoring. Hopefully this was just a case a fatigue and not indicative of something worse.

She turned back to see everyone watching her with varying degrees of concern on their faces. She explained, "I get kind of worried about my pets."

Winona had an approving expression. "I was never good with animals, but my sister always was. I can respect that. So…"

She got an odd look on her face as she trailed off. Allena bit her lip, not sure of what to do. Was she waiting for something? A more formal introduction? A tour of the base? A tour of the base would probably be good.

Just as she opened her mouth to offer one, though, Winona said, "Okay, so Wes told me you killed that giant deer monster over the winter, and I'm pretty sure he's lying. Care to clarify?"

Allena blinked. "Oh. That. Uh…here," she said, and beckoned for Winona to follow her. She did so, and Allena led her around to the back of the base.

The Deerclops eye was sitting under an overhang Wilson had built to keep it sheltered, and she tugged the leather wrappings off to reveal the massive trophy.

She struggled to keep in a laugh as Winona's jaw dropped. "Seriously? You actually…I mean…wow. Yup. That's it."

"I take it this means you met giant deer monster?" Asked Wolfgang, who had followed them out along with Wes.

"Yeah," Winona said. "Wrecked my camp. Nearly killed me. Been living in the caves ever since, figuring that thing would come back and destroy anything I made. Good to know it's dead."

Wes was standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest, which was puffed out pridefully. He was smiling at Winona, who turned, saw him, and rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, I get it. Your friends are pretty impressive. I assume. First, though, I've gotta hear the story."

Wes looked at Allena eagerly, clapping his hands, and Allena said, "How about Wilson and I tell it over dinner tonight? Honestly, Wilson is a better storyteller than I am."

Wes deflated a bit, but acquiesced as she wrapped the eye back up and they all headed back into the base.

Allena stopped as they got back inside, and she realized that everyone was looking at her expectantly. She was confused for a moment; but then she realized that, with Wilson out and about collecting resources, she was the senior member. That meant she was kind of in charge.

Gulp. Alright, what first?

Right, tour. She sparked with excitement at the prospect of showing their new friend around. "Winona, how about I show you around the base?" Then it occurred to her that they may not be up for a tour, given that they'd just come back from what was probably a pretty long trip, and she added, "If you're feeling up to it, I mean. Neither of you are injured, right? Oh, are you hungry? Can I get you some food, water? Maybe some tea? Oh, you guys probably want to wash up. Okay, why don't I put some water on to boil? Yeah, that's what I'll do. Wolfgang, can you whip up a pot of water?"

Wes looked a bit overwhelmed, and Winona waved a hand airily. "Woah, there. No need to get your knickers in a twist, we're fine. Little peckish, but we can wait for lunch."

Oh, man. It was almost noon. "Right! Lunch! I should make lunch! Uh, what do we have for lunch?"

She started whipping her head back and forth as she scanned the base for edibles, then ran over to the food cabinet. She quickly picked out a few things that would go well together and wouldn't take too long to fix up, and pulled everything she needed out and carried it over to the counter. "How do rabbit kebobs sound? With carrots, potatoes, a couple other things…and maybe some buttered toast on the side? We have jam, too, if you'd like some jam on toast. Or honey! We have oodles and oodles of honey."

Wes was staring at her in befuddlement, and Winona was obviously trying hard not to laugh. "You have to be the most excitable person I've ever met in my life. Listen, I'm not a picky eater. Whatever you're having is fine by me."

"Cool!" She said, and started cooking.

Once the potatoes were roasting and the rabbit was ready to be chopped up and skewered, the water was boiling, and she had Wolfgang pour it into two wash basins. Then she grabbed some washcloths and set one down beside the tent, and the other just inside the nifty curtain Wilson had set up in one corner of the base – one of the new additions made during renovation, so she would have a place to wash up without running the risk of anyone getting an eyeful. "Winona, here, you can wash up a bit. I was planning on doing a laundry run after lunch today, so if you want I can grab you some extra clothes and you can pile your things in that basket over there? You too, Wes."

Winona looked at the setup and shrugged. "Sure, why not. Been a while since I've had clean clothes."

Allena grabbed her and Wes some beefalo leathers to change into when they were clean, and went back to cooking. They finished washing up around the same time she finished lunch, and they all sat down around the fire for food.

Going by the way Wes and Winona tore into their rabbit kebobs, they'd both been tightening their belts for the trip. Allena saved her questions for them until they were fairly sated, then asked, "So, how did you two run into each other?"

Wes swallowed a large chunk of rabbit. Then he set aside the kebob, pulled out a compass, tapped it, and pointed at her.

"Huh?" Allena said. "You…found a compass that…hm. You're gonna have to clarify."

Winona nodded. "Yeah, I'll let him tell his part first. I'll pick up from where we met. Sound good?"

Everyone agreed, and Wes started miming.

It only took about a half an hour for him to get through the story, Allena translating it as she figured it out. Winona, it seemed, had a knack for understanding Wes, but Wolfgang was mostly clueless as usual.

At last he finished up, getting to the point where he met Winona, and bowed the story off to her. Winona said, "Yeah, okay, so then he runs into me. Let me tell you, I was mighty surprised when I caught sight of him."

"Yeah, I was too, the first time I met him," Allena said. Winona laughed, Wolfgang chortled, and Wes grinned sheepishly.

Before the story could continue, however, they all paused. A sound had picked up, and Allena quickly recognized it. The steady _whump, whump, whump_ of Chester's bouncing, along with the casual steps of the man walking beside him.

Allena hopped up cheerfully. Wilson was back.

He rounded the corner a moment later, and as he did he took a deep whiff. "My, it smells like lunch! I don't suppose—"

He broke off, mouth popping open in surprise as he took in the sight before him. Allena ran over and hugged him. "Wilson! Look! Wes is back – and he brought a friend!"

Winona stood up and walked over, placing a hand on her hip and looking Wilson up and down. "Howdy. Nice to meet ya. You're Wilson, then?"

Wilson nodded, looking at her a bit cautiously, then relaxing and stepping forward to greet her. He bowed very slightly at the waist. "Indeed. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss…?"

"Winona. Just call me Winona."

"Winona," Wilson nodded. "Welcome to our base. I take it you'll be staying with us for a while?"

She nodded. "That alright with you?"

"It will be a pleasure to have you. Now…"

He stepped around to get a look at Wes. "Wes, welcome back. You gave Wolfgang and I quite a scare when you disappeared, and it's good to see you home again. You aren't injured, I hope?"

Wes shook his head, jumped up, came over and gave Wilson a big hug and a happy smile.

Wilson permitted it given the circumstances, and merely sighed as he patted Wes on the back. "Yes, yes. I'm happy to see you, too. Now, is there any food left over?"

Wes stepped back, nodded, and grabbed Wilson a couple of rabbit kebobs.

Allena got him seated by the fire, nodded to Winona to sit down as well, and went over to start slicing bread for dessert. "Wilson, let me fill you in on Wes's part of the story. Winona was just about to tell us hers."

Wilson made a contented sound as he finished chewing a roasted carrot. "Sounds good to me. I'm happy to have a translated version of Wes's stories – you know I can't make out a thing he 'says'."

Wes looked a bit exasperated, shooting Winona a not-so-covert look and pointing at Wilson with one hand, knocking on his head with the other.

Wilson glared at him. "You know, I can make out a few things, _mon ami."_

Winona laughed. Allena skewered the bread for toasting, brought the butter, jam, and honey over, sat down, and started on the story. By the time she was finished, the bread was toasted and ready for buttering. They started in on the dessert Winona took over and told them the rest of the tale.

It was uneventful, mostly. The two of them packed up her base and gathered a few extra materials for the trip, combed over Winona's old base for extra supplies, and stocked up a bit on food using Winona's familiarity with the region to find berries and carrots. Mostly, they just spent six days trekking steadily through biomes.

Winona went over to her backpack when she finished and pulled out two large pieces of paper, unfolding them and handing them to Wilson. "This was my master map back home, and this is a smaller map I made while we were hiking. If you have an atlas or anything, maybe it could help."

Wilson looked quite pleased with the offering. "Certainly! Come, look."

He showed her the atlas while Allena cleaned up, and when they were done Winona stepped back with an approving look. "Not too bad. You're quite the explorer, huh?"

Allena nodded. "Oh, yeah. He goes out on expeditions every spring." She showed her the parts added by the last expedition, the one where they found Wes. "I went with him on the last one, we found Wes here, and Wolfgang there," she said while pointing the locations out. "And when I got kidnapped, I ended up on top of one of the mountains up there."

She pointed up to the mountain range behind their base, and Winona said, "Wow, that's pretty high. You get a good view from up there?"

Wilson added, voice keenly interested, "Yes, did you? How did it look compared to my map?"

Allena replied, "It looked amazing! Spot on! I could really tell where everything was. You're a really good…"

She frowned as she tried, again, to remember the word for it. It started with a C. She thought for another moment, then said, "Choreographer."

She realized that she'd gotten the wrong word when Winona burst out laughing, and Wilson looked baffled. Then his eyes lit up with understanding, and he too started laughing. She blushed, and glanced around to see Wes slapping his knee and Wolfgang looking confused.

Winona patted her firmly on the back. "I think you mean cartographer. Choreography is dance."

She rubbed her forehead with her palm, sighing. "Ugh. Map maker. He's a good map maker."

Wilson was still chuckling. "Much obliged, my love."

She rolled her eyes and Winona gave her a playful wink. "Anyways," the woman said, "The maps look good. Now, since we've gotten the stories out of the way…"

Wes looked like he wanted to protest, looking at Allena imploringly, but Allena waved him off. "We can tell our stories at dinner tonight. For now, how about we get you two settled in?"

Wes deflated, but nodded. Winona looked like she liked the idea. "Alright. Sounds good. Should I find myself a camping spot nearby, or do you want me staying here with you guys?"

Allena thought about it, and Wilson's brow furrowed as he, too, considered. Then he said, "Wes and Wolfgang have set up a base across the way, but it isn't completely habitable yet. Why doesn't everyone stay the night here, and tomorrow we can work on that base. Then you may choose which you prefer."

That sounded like a good idea, and Wolfgang nodded deeply. "Will be happy to make base comfortable for you, Winona. Or, if Wolfgang's great hospitality is not up to snuffs, this base should be fine."

Wes twiddled his fingers, looking at Winona a bit shyly. She didn't catch it, too busy talking to Wilson, but Allena pondered the expression.

"Well, if there's work that needs to be done, show me what it is. I figure unpacking can wait until tomorrow. For now, what can I do?"

Allena disregarded Wes's strange look – at least for the moment – and said, "Wilson can set you up with something. I'm going to do the laundry so you can change out of those beefalo leathers."

Wilson nodded. "Why don't I show you around and point out our resource hubs."

Wolfgang added, "Wolfgang will go get lumber and fresh water. Wes, you come?"

Wes looked at Winona for a long moment as she leaned over the map, then nodded, turning to go with a last, sullen backward glance.

Odd.

Allena turned to grab the laundry basket, but before she could she noticed Chester whining. He was standing by the table that held Glommer's table, tilting up curiously.

Allena went over and checked. Glommer was still sleeping soundly, wings buzzing gently with each of his sharp little exhales. Chester sounded worried, so she grabbed his eyebone and set it up next to Glommer. At once Chester seemed to perk up, tongue flopping out as be began to pant. He bounced up and down a few times, and Allena knelt next to him, smiling. "Hey, buddy. Look who's back."

He barked, and she shushed him. "No, no. Glommer's tired. He needs to sleep, okay?"

Chester whined in confusion again, and Allena stood up and lifted Glommer's pet bed down so Chester could inspect him.

Chester reared up, putting his little red legs on the side of the pet bed, and leaned forward to sniff at Glommer. Glommer opened his eyes, blinked at Chester, and gave a happy little hum.

Chester licked him, then hopped down, turned around in a few circles, and settled next to the pet bed. Glommer closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

She heard Wolfgang chattering to Wes as they strode away from the base, and Winona was expressing practical interest in all of the resources they had nearby. Allena left the pet bed on the ground so Chester could stay close to his temporarily grounded companion, and as she walked over to fetch the laundry, she smiled.

Her family was back together again…and stronger than ever.


	35. By the Rising of the Moon

"You're kidding! She cut the thing's eyeball out, you landed the lethal blow, then you both leapt off of its shoulders to flee a flood of giant spiders?"

Allena nodded cheerfully and Wilson said, "Yes, yes. Quite the messy ordeal, I assure you. It took four washbasins to get all the blood off."

They'd worked up an appetite that day, and were now sitting around the fire as the sun set outside the base and the evening began to darken. They were having baked, seasoned frog legs, which Winona was enjoying immensely in spite of her initial insistence that frogs weren't food – a sentiment which heartily amused Wes.

"Trust me," Allena had told her. "They're good."

She'd tried them, and now three skewers were propped up in the ashes in front of her, the forth holding her last morsel of leg.

"We made it to a nearby clearing, at which point I discovered that Allena had been gravely wounded," Wilson continued.

"It wasn't grave," she interjected. "The cuts were barely skin-deep."

"How'd ya get them?" Winona asked curiously.

Wilson answered. "She sustained them whilst she was cutting the eye out of the Deerclops. It wrapped a hand around her and, though its spindly limbs were quite impeded by the webbing, it managed to dig its great fingernails into her gut. Had it not been for our brave friend Webber, who as I'm told pried the fingers off, she'd have been disemboweled blinding the beast!"

Allena covered her small smile. Wilson was really a good storyteller. She hadn't felt like a hero during the fight, but the way he told it she might have been Xena, Warrior Princess.

Wilson finished the tale, and Winona shook her head. "Sounds like a wild ride. This friend of yours, Webber – he come around often?"

Wilson nodded, saying, "Yes, he usually comes by once a week. I'm sure we'll be able to introduce you soon enough."

Though Wilson's tone was flippant, Allena bit her lip. She was worried about Webber. She'd meant to go visit him today, make sure he and spider-mama were doing okay, but with all the excitement it just hadn't been feasible.

Wes had looked very pleased with the story, and was positively bursting at Winona's clear appreciation. She looked to him and said, "Alright, I guess your friends are as impressive as you said. And it's a weight off my shoulders to know that I won't have to worry about that thing anymore. So, Allena, I'm pretty sure Wes is dying to know what happened to you. Care to tell?"

Allena forced her thoughts of Webber out of her mind and put on a smile. Winona frowned slightly, perhaps catching the tension in her expression, but Allena spoke quickly to cover it up. "Yeah, of course. Okay, so Wilson and Wolfgang got into a bit of a spat…"

She went over the events leading up to the fight for Winona's sake, since Wes had been there and knew all about it. Then she got to the part about Krampus, and Winona started.

"…Ten feet tall, covered in red and black hair, with big curling horns and a bulging white sack on his back…"

"Wait," Winona said. "I know that thing! It came after me one day after I took out a pig village!"

Wilson looked surprised. "Took out a pig village?"

She nodded. "Yeah! I thought the things would be nice to live near, since they were so good at fighting off hounds and the manure is great for farms, so I built them some houses near my base and they moved right in. But did you know those bastards turn into big, hairy monsters when the full moon comes around?"

Wilson's eyes widened. "Was that what…?"

He trailed off. Allena looked at him, and he explained, "I once befriended a pig whilst I was passing through the Pigwood Village, and he accompanied me on my journey for several days. I named him Porkival."

Allena pursed her lips and tried not to laugh.

"One night I left him alone by the fire with some food while I went out to filch the eggs from a couple of tallbird nests nearby. It was the full moon, so while the birds were asleep I didn't have to worry about the darkness. It was ideal. But when I returned, I was attacked and nearly maimed by some wild, hairy, clawed beast! I managed to kill it, and the next morning I looked all over for my pig friend, but he was gone!"

Winona nodded. "Yup. Sorry, bud. You killed him."

Wilson's brows furrowed. "Oh, dear. Rest in peace, Porkival."

Winona continued her story. "Anyways, after the first night of the full moon – I managed to survive by climbing a particularly tall pine tree and clinging to the top branch all night – I killed all the pigs in their sleep to avoid having them turn again that night. When I went back to the mini village I'd built them to dismantle it, I found half a dozen new pigs milling around it! I barely managed to kill them all before nightfall, and it ran me out of weapons!"

Wilson looked at her with an appraising expression. "You slew a village of pigs all on your own? Those creatures are quite a handful. Faster than they look, you know."

She nodded, and Wilson seemed to regard her with increased respect. "Yeah, took 'em all out myself. No one else around to ask for help, after all. But as soon as I killed the last of 'em, the day flashed red, just like you mentioned. That thing showed up a minute later, and it knocked me down and took my most prized possession!"

Wolfgang looked curious. "What was this?"

Winona looked dour. "My bandana. I wore it to work every day. Haven't bothered to make a new one, though it's been on my list of things to do…"

Allena blinked. She hopped up and went over to their store of miscellaneous items as Winona continued her story. She came back, held out her hand, and asked, "Is this your bandana?"

Winona's eyes dropped to the long piece of crimson cloth, and she gasped. She took it and inspected it. "Yes! That's it!"

Allena had recalled that it came from Krampus's golden shelf, which Wortox had told her exclusively contained treasured possessions from people living in the constant.

Winona quickly pulled out a wide-toothed tin comb, ran it through her hair a few times (Allena had lent her a brush so she could get the tangles out while she washed up before lunch) and did her hair up in a tight ponytail on top of her head. Then she tied her bandana around it, knotting it in the front. The bandana kept her hair propped up a bit more, and turned the merely functional hairdo rather fashionable.

That done she looked to Allena and said, "Thanks. It really means a lot to me to get this back. My sister gave it to me."

Wes looked sad, and Allena got the sense that the sister story wasn't a good one. "Big sister or little sister?"

"Little sister," Winona replied. "She vanished in the San Francisco quake, but I think she might actually have ended up here."

Allena picked up on the hint of pain in her eyes, but then Winona shook her head. "But anyways," she hurried on. "You were saying about getting kidnapped?"

Clearly she didn't want to talk about it. Allena would approach it another time, maybe not in front of everyone. "Right. So, first off, the thing yodeled like you wouldn't believe…"

She continued. Wes looked horrified at her tale of the cramped confines and Krampus's dart-throwing habit. He also looked petrified by the idea of Wortox eating Krampus's soul and then coming for her. At last she got to the end and said, "So we gathered up just about anything of value along with all the stuff Krampus stole, and Wortox put me in the bag and carried me all the way back here. Speaking of which…"

She hopped up again and went over to Wilson's shelf, which held his papers, notebooks, and now all of their new books, and pulled the French one off the shelf. "I found this in the piles, Wes. You speak – uh, read, I mean – French, right?"

He nodded, looking curious, and she walked over and handed him the book. "Aside from the song Alouette, I don't speak a word of French. No idea what it's about. But I figured you might like having some French literature. Granted, for all I know it could be anything from a car owner's manual to the French Guinness Book of World Records. Is it something you might be interested in?"

Wes had read the title with some interest, and had flipped the book open to a random page. As he read a few lines, his face got a very, very strange expression on it. Then his eyes widened, and he slowly closed the book and read the title again.

He swallowed and looked up at her with a smile that was a little too wide to be genuine, giving her a thumbs up.

She tilted her head in confusion. "Uh, what kind of book is it, Wes?"

He raised a hand to gesture something, then clenched his fist, lowered it, raised it again, waved it around, then gave up and just shrugged.

Huh. That was weird. "Ooookay…well, you're welcome to read it if you want. Or not, if you don't. I never asked you if you were much of a reader. Anyways," she sat back down as Wes slipped the book behind his back as though trying to ignore it. "We found a bunch of other stuff, too. Traps, weapons, gems, gold, tools—"

Winona, who had been cleaning her nails, looked up sharply. "Tools? What kind of tools?"

Allena pointed over to their tool shelf. "Some decent hammers and a whole pail of nails, among other things. You want to take a look?"

"Absolutely. Nothing I love more than a good set of tools."

Allena smiled as she remembered Wilson's original reaction to her Black and Decker toolkit. "Then boy, do I have a surprise for you."

She showed Winona the tools she'd brought back, then pulled out her toolkit. Wilson followed and leaned over to get a good look. Clearly, he also wanted to see how the handywoman would react.

It was just as priceless as Wilson's reaction. Allena flipped the lid open and Winona's jaw hit the floor. "Where is the world did you get all of this?!"

She started grabbing tools and holding them up, inspecting them with avid curiosity, and Wilson said, "That goes back to when Allena first arrived. Perhaps you'd like to tell…"

He trailed off as Wolfgang yelped behind them, and there was a commotion as he and Wes stood up. They all turned around as Wolfgang hollered, "Little monster boy! You frighten me – why you are here so late, eh?"

Allena's head whipped around to the entrance of the base to see Webber standing there looking dazed, mouth gaping slightly.

She intuited that something was wrong immediately. She went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Webber, hey. Are you alright?"

Webber looked at her blankly and said, "Spider-mama is still hurt. Very hungry. We do not know what to do."

Wilson had been walking over as well, but Allena saw him freeze out of the corner of her eye. He retreated back to the toolkit and began quietly putting the tools away.

Winona came over and looked over Allena's shoulder curiously. Sensing that something was wrong, she didn't say anything.

It sounded like the spider queen's condition wasn't improving. If anything, based on Webber's shocked state, it was worsening. And it was fairly obvious that he'd come to them for help.

She led him over to the fire and sat him down. "Okay, Webber. It's alright. Here, let me get you something to eat really quickly, then we can talk, okay?"

Webber nodded, plonking down by the fire and swaying on the spot. Wolfgang and Wes made no move to communicate with him, and Wilson struck up a casual conversation. "Ah, Webber, it's good to see you back. Wes has returned, as you can see. And Allena brought back the playing cards. You two can play sometime this week, perhaps."

Allena whipped up a piece of toast thickly lathered with honey for Webber, as well as a tall glass of water. She was worried and a little angry with Wilson, given how much disdain he had for the object of Webber's distress, but the mellow conversation was probably the best thing for the spiderboy.

Then he said, "…and as we have so much to celebrate, we were thinking we might have a feast tomorrow night—"

Allena cut him off, a spike of anger welling up in her as he talked so nonchalantly about celebration while Webber's adopted mother was on the brink of death. "Here you go, Webber. Have some toast. It has honey on it. Has spider-mama been eating plenty of honey?"

Webber took the toast and looked at it. "Spider-mama won't eat any more. She wants more meats, but no matter how much Webber gets it isn't enough. Bee stings are getting worse, too. All red and puffy, oozing…she still can't move her legs. She still can't open her eyes."

His breathing hitched, and Winona said, "Woah, you have an injured friend? Can we go help her?"

Wilson spoke up at once, voice firm. "Ah, no. Not that sort of friend. Webber lives amongst a clan of spiders in the forest to the south, and their queen suffered some bee stings while trying to _eat us."_

Allena turned around to glare at him, and Wilson cowed at once, stepping back and going to the table to clean up the dinner mess.

Winona frowned. "Wow. You're friends with spiders, huh?"

Allena explained, "Webber was brought here as a very young child and became fused with a spider. The queen he's talking about adopted and raised him. She's basically his mom."

Winona looked horrified. Then she quickly swallowed the expression and patted Webber gingerly on the back. "Ah, well, maybe we can go check up on her. Allena, do you know what might be good for bee stings?"

Allena was about to respond, but Webber whimpered, "No. Nothing helps stings enough. And spider-mama says she wants to be alone. That is why Webber is here. She told Webber to go, to…to…"

Webber started shaking. His eyes started leaking. And Allena realized what was going on.

Many animals preferred to be alone when they died. The spider queen had sent him away so she could die in peace.

A wave of nauseating grief welled up in her, and she clenched her teeth and swallowed it. Winona looked genuinely saddened by Webber's plight. Wes and Wolfgang both got up and moved quietly away.

Allena wrapped an arm around Webber's shoulders, waiting for the sobs, but they didn't come. He just sat there, shaking and shocked, teary goo leaking silently from his eyes.

A little while later, as the three sat in silence around the fire and the other three shifted around the camp, not sure of how to handle the situation, Allena became aware of a new sound. A gentle buzzing had pervaded the still night air. She looked up in confusion, then heard Chester bark.

Glommer had woken up and, in the dawning of the night, he had come to life. He looked totally healed, and a good deal more lively than he normally did on the best of days. Allena stood up and went over to him. "Hey, Glommer. How are you…"

She froze as he hovered there, humming jovially.

_This is Glommer. He's a friend. He oozes healing goop during the full moon._

She looked up at the sky, and her heart skipped a beat.

She jumped up and grabbed a spare backpack, stuffing the bucket of frog remains in it and grabbing all the excess meat they had.

Wilson looked at her. "Eh, my dear? What are you doing?"

She didn't want to waste time explaining. Glommer tended to goop within a few hours of moonrise, and the moon had risen an hour ago. They'd be hard-pressed getting there already. "I'm going out for a while. Be back later."

Then she darted over to Glommer, grabbed his flower, and said, "Webber, come on. We've gotta run."

Webber looked up, confused, but did as she asked. He wandered dazedly over to her, and she took his arm and started steering him towards the exit.

"What…Allena! Where are you going?"

"Deerclops Forest," she said shortly, not in the mood for Wilson's objections to what she was about to do. "Be back later. Don't worry about it."

Wilson looked like he was going to worry about it very much, but Winona stood up and jogged over. "Hey, I wouldn't mind a midnight walk. Why don't I go with ya?"

There was a pause. Wilson looked between her and Winona, Allena looked between Winona and Wilson, and Webber looked…

Well, Webber looked sad. He didn't know what she had in mind yet.

Wilson nodded. Wes and Wolfgang both looked baffled, too, and Wolfgang said, "I will come along. Make sure nothing—"

Allena shook her head firmly. "Stay here, Wolfgang. I'll take care of myself." She grabbed a spear off the wall and strapped it to her back. With Glommer right behind her and Webber at her side, she headed out.

She heard Winona ask if she could borrow a spare weapon, and a moment later there was a clunk as the weapon's cabinet opened. A minute later Winona came running out after her.

It would be nice to have someone else along, but she imaged Winona must have been exhausted from her six-day trek. No way would she want to go running around new, unfamiliar territory at night after all that. "You don't have to come, it's fine," she insisted.

Winona replied, "Hey, I'm happy to tag along. Never seen a spider queen before. So, Deerclops Forest. How long's it gonna take to get there?"

Allena felt a surge of affection for their new arrival. "Quite a while. Maybe four to six hours."

Webber whimpered. "Spider-mama does not want to be bothered. Should not go. We…"

Allena patted him on the head and said, "Don't worry. I'm just bringing her some food – and something to help with the stings. Remember what I said about Glommer?"

Winona looked confused, then she looked up at the moon and said, "Oh!"

Allena nodded, smiled wryly, and replied, "We're gonna have to make really good time. He only does it once." Then she added to Glommer, "Hey, Glom. Think you could hold off on gooping for a few hours?"

He didn't respond, just hummed happily as he bumbled after them, vigorous in the piercing light of the rising full moon.

* * *

Glommer had been vibrating on and off with increasing frequency, and as he started humming again Allena put her hand on his back and crooned, "Just a little longer, Glommer. Can you wait just a little longer?"

The first time she'd made the trip it had taken her nearly nine hours. But with her experience with the area, the cardio and strength she'd put on during her stay in the Constant, and the urgency of her mission, she'd cut that time down considerably.

Beelining to the particular clearing they were looking for, they made it in just four hours.

She was nearly spent by the time they passed Glommer's statue, and Glommer halted in midair. Allena's heart dropped. "Oh, no, just a bit further, Glom. Just wait another minute. Okay?"

If Glommer gooped now, they would be hard-pressed transporting it to the spider queen. Besides, it was most potent when it was fresh. They'd learned that when they'd tried to store it, only to have it liquefy and become useless by sunup.

Glommer vibrated, jittered, jived…

…then became still again.

She heaved a sigh of relief, as did Winona and Webber. He knew by now what she had in mind, and once he'd figured it out he'd been galvanized with hope. "Okay, let's go. It's really close, right Webber?"

He nodded. "This way, this way! Spider-mama just over here, nice little bug friend!"

Glommer buzzed cheerfully. She got the sense that he'd been enjoying himself immensely with the trip, especially given that he'd slept all day long. He loved full moons.

They walked a little while longer, finally emerging into the small clearing.

Winona took a deep breath, her discomfort auditory on the exhale.

The spider queen lay in the middle of the clearing. Her legs were curled up, and she seemed stiff and unmoving.

Webber whimpered and ran over to her. He knelt by her head and started hissing.

At first Allena feared that they were too late. Then, one of the queen's eyes slowly opened – one of the last two that hadn't been blinded by stings – and she hissed, low and soft.

Allena felt a surge of hope, and she led Glommer over slowly. She felt the queen's eye on her as she moved past, but Webber hissed at her again. The sound, though creepy, was also comforting. Kind.

As Glommer hovered there, Webber stood up and said, "Help me move webs. Want goop to go on stings, yes?"

Allena nodded, though she looked the queen's body over uneasily. It was almost entirely coated with clumps of webbing from her residual armor and from Webber's attempts to keep the stings treated with salves and honey. It would be tough to get it all off.

Winona stepped forward and said, "We need to get the webbing off? Alrighty. Let's get to work."

And she reached forward, grabbed some webs, and started tugging.

The queen hissed angrily as she felt what she no doubt regarded as prey tugging at her silken outer skin, and she tried to rock herself onto her side. Then she groaned with the exertion and lay still again.

Winona paid no mind, and without further ado, Allena hopped in as well.

The three of them working together managed to get the bulk of the webs off of the queen's massive, swollen body fairly quickly. She'd been growing more and more agitated, her legs twitching with the desire to run them through. Soon the skeleton of the deerclops was revealed, the ribs digging into her body as a result of the swelling from the bee venom.

To Allena's surprise, the queen's bare body was extremely soft. The hairs were barely bristly at all, and were as shiny as oil and as smooth as bear's fur – albeit significantly thicker. Frankly, she was quite lovely without her webbing.

Just as Webber stared working at her neck joint, Glommer started vibrating again.

Winona turned around and said, "Allena! He's doing it!"

She was already on it. She grabbed Glommer, pushed him next to spider-mama, and gently hoisted him into the air over her. He went contentedly, positioning himself directly over her belly, and…

_GWOOOOOOOOOSH!_

Sparkling pink goop cascaded out of Glommer's underbelly, and the flood that came out was easily double what he'd doused her with the first time they'd met, when he'd healed her cuts and bruises and given her hearing back.

Gelatinous streams of the gel flowed over the spider queen's abdomen, down her sides and towards her neck. Allena started smearing this around and said to Winona, "Get the other side."

She nodded and dashed around the queen.

Webber came up and grabbed two heaping handfuls, bringing them back and splattering them straight on the massive arachnid's blinded eyes. It dripped down into her mouth and she gurgled with rage and befuddlement.

Webber tried calming her down, but it wasn't particularly effective. She kept hissing. Spitting. Screeching.

As the queen at last let out a massive roar, Webber looked up, eyes wide…with joy.

"It is working! Look at how strong she is getting!"

Indeed, as Allena smeared the healing goo across her stings, the swelling lessened and the stings scabbed over. One by one her eyes were opening, and her legs were even starting to move.

"That's great, Webber, maybe – AUGH!"

She went careening backwards as one of the queen's legs drew back and shot forward, bashing into her and sending her sprawling to the ground.

"Allena, you okay?" Winona called as the spider queen began to gently rock back and forth.

The leg had rammed into her hard, giving her an instant headache and stunning her. She called back, slightly punch-drunk. "Watch out for her legs…"

She saw another one twitch forward and back on the other side, and Winona yelped. "Yikes! Thanks for the heads up! Hey, don't you get that we're trying to help you?! You ungrateful…"

She sounded mildly irritated, but the predominant tone was excitement. Allena thought that this was a woman who enjoyed having adventures every bit as much as hearing about them.

Webber, who had just realized that she'd been hurt, squealed in alarm and came over to help her up. "Is Allena okay? Did mama long-legs hit you?"

She winced and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Hey, is she hungry? Because I brought her some frog…"

Webber made an excited noise and darted over to her pack. In the absence of his support she crumpled back to the ground, still dazed. He didn't notice. "Ugh."

Webber pulled out the rank bucket of frog remains, as well as the leftover legs they'd been planning to have for breakfast tomorrow. He took these all over to the queen, dangling a chunk of frog viscera over her mouth, and she let out a rattling hiss and lunged for it.

Webber trilled happily and began hand-feeding her the large bucket of frog.

By the time the bucket was empty, Allena was still sitting, slightly dazed, head pounding. The blow had been harder than she'd initially gauged.

Glommer had bumbled lazily back over to her when the queen started twitching, and now hovered next to her. As she groaned and tried to stand again, he bumped into her head. She sat again. "Ack. Hey Glom, who's side are you on?"

He hummed serene response, drifted over her head, and vibrated. A very small spurt of goop shot out onto her head.

As it soaked into her hair and scalp, her headache receded. She rubbed it in and found she was able to stand. "Aw, thanks, Glommer."

 _"Tssaaaachsss, Chaatsa sachsaachaaa. Tsaaatsacha chasssatchtsa!_ Mama is getting up! Webber thinks it is time to go!"

The queen was now rocking frantically back and forth. Winona shouted in alarm, running around to Allena's side. Allena popped up like a Jack-in-the-box. She was only about seven feet away from the queen…and those legs were eight feet long.

The queen heaved, curling her legs in closely on one side and splaying them out on the other.

At long last, the momentum was enough. She teetered, paused, and fell belly-down.

The Spider Queen was back on her feet.

Good news for Webber.

Bad news for them.

The queen's legs moved clumsily as she untangled them from under her body, and Allena decided that was their cue to run. "Yup, let's go."

She didn't bother with the frog bucket and backpack. She just placed Glommer's flower down her shirt to keep it safe, wrapped her arms around him, and started running. Glommer always lagged a little behind them, even during the full moon, and she didn't want to risk him getting eaten by the thing she had just compelled him to heal.

The queen roared as they took off out of the clearing, but Webber walked in front of her, hands on his hips, and hissed at her.

Allena paused to look back. The queen stopped, then roared at Webber.

He roared back.

It was a small, somewhat tinny roar, but it was still a roar, and Allena was impressed. The queen paused, eyes widening, and her hairs bristled slightly.

After a moment's standoff, she brought up a leg to carefully sweep him out of the way, but he grabbed it and shoved it back. Finally she stepped carefully forward, butting gently into Webber, and with a sudden toss of her head she flung him onto her back and started after them in earnest.

Of course, earnest was slow for a recently recovered Spider Queen. She stumbled through the undergrowth drunkenly, legs lacking their normal, natural, graceful rhythm. She wavered a bit, and even as tired as Allena was from the trip over, she and Winona were able to outrun her easily.

Webber was positively throwing a tantrum from atop his mother's back, and Allena almost laughed. Realizing that it would be a good idea to leave the queen behind as quickly as possible so she would stop exerting herself trying to catch them, she looked to Winona and said, "Race you to the edge of the forest."

Winona grinned fiercely and said, "You're on."

They both put the pedal to the metal. The queen was making furious sounds behind them, but in less than a minute she had fallen well back.

Winona was a good deal tougher and taller than Allena, but chances were she'd never run track. With Allena's track experience and Winona's natural stature, the two were pretty well matched in terms of speed.

That said, as they neared the edge of the forest – the Spider Queen had fallen far enough behind that they could no longer hear her – Allena learned that she hadn't 100% recovered from her confinement in Krampus's cage. A harsh stinging had risen in her knee shortly into the race, a pain that had become prominent while she'd been forced to keep her legs tucked to her chest for hours at a time. It had progressed to a throbbing ache, and as she got to the tree line, the limb gave out.

Winona had pulled slightly ahead of her and didn't see her go crashing to the ground. She tucked and rolled as she'd been taught to do while running at high speeds, so she wasn't horribly hurt. But still…ouch.

Winona let out a wild, "Whoop!" from up ahead, her form a bit of a blur in the turbulence of the fall.

She lay on her back for a long moment, catching her breath, and Winona turned around and yelled, "Hey, that wasn't too bad! Do you thi…woah! You alright? What happened?"

Allena was about to respond when a massive, scathing roar came echoing out of the trees. It was a long ways away, but the sound was so loud that the entire forest responded promptly. Crows and redbirds awoke and exploded out of the foliage in a chaotic, disjointed flock, cawing and twittering harshly.

After several moments of silence, the roar was answered by a chorus of rasping hisses, strangely pitched squeals, and garbled screeches, all coming from the direction of the spider stronghold.

Winona had come over to help her up, and as that sound flowed through the trees towards them Allena's face twitched up into a wry, lopsided smile.

"Long live the Queen," she said.


	36. The Siege

"The mess is really the worst part, to be honest."

"Oh, totally. I mean, the fatigue is one thing, but the mess? Ugh."

It was the following morning. Allena and Winona had woken up late as a result of their excursion the previous night. Breakfast had been left for them in the crock pot, as well as a chore list on the table. It had everything that needed doing that day along with the names of the people doing them. Sticks, rabbits, and frog legs were the three left unaccounted for. Wilson and Wolfgang had left on a hunting trip and taken Chester with them, and Wes was out gathering lumber, so that left her and Winona to deal with the rest of the list.

Allena had brought Winona to the normal sapling farming area, a clearing in the Vargwood that always had plenty of sticks, and they'd been chatting as they chopped for the last hour.

"Thankfully," Allena said. "I figured out a pretty decent solution. Have you tried spider silk?"

Winona's expression wrinkled up. "Nah. Silk is hard for me to come by. I never have enough. Is it good for that sort of thing, though?"

"It's great," Allena replied enthusiastically. 

They both looked up as they heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and Wes came strolling into the clearing, shoulders hunched with the strain of carrying a considerable amount of lumber. They'd heard him hacking away at some trees nearby, but had opted not to disturb him.

Allena shot him a smile and a wave, and Winona greeted him casually as he leaned against a nearby tree. "Hey, Wes. Looks like you're hard at work. How's the logging going?"

Wes wiped his brow and nodded heavily, then turned halfway around so they could see the haul on his back.

She whistled. "Not bad. That gonna be enough to refill the stockpile?"

Wes shook his head, gestured to the load, made a hacking motion, and held up four fingers.

"What – you need four more trees? Or four more loads?"

He pointed again to his back. Four more loads.

Winona nodded appreciatively. "Nothing like a good day of honest work. If this is the norm around here, I think I'm gonna like this place just fine."

Wes smiled, bowed slightly, stumbled a bit as he almost overbalanced, and pulled out his water flask to take a quick drink.

Allena picked up the conversation again, starting where she'd left off. "So, yeah, silk is great. Really absorbent. If you weave it the right way, it can cut down on the mess like you wouldn't believe."

"That sounds nice," Winona replied. "Still, gotta be hard to come by, right?"

"Actually, with Webber dropping by weekly our stock is almost always full. And I have Webber bring me a personal supply every month. I don't tell him what it's for, though. I'll just ask him to get you some too, if you'd like to try it…oh, yeah, Wes?"

Wes had been listening to their conversation, and now pointed between her and Winona, made a jaw flapping gesture, and shrugged.

_What are you guys talking about?_

Allena yanked up a sapling and began dividing the branches. "Nothing, Wes. Don't worry about it."

He looked confused, and she elaborated, "Just girl stuff."

He looked unsatisfied with the clarification, and Winona waved a hand airily. "Nothing you've gotta worry about, lucky for you." She turned her attention back to Allena. "I guess if you guys aren't short on silk, I wouldn't mind giving it a try. Say, does Webber ever ask what you use it for?"

"Oh, he used to ask every week. Unfortunately, I eventually made the mistake of telling him I was making bandages with them, and he went off and asked Wilson why I needed so many bandages, and Wilson came and asked me how often I was sustaining injuries that necessitated the use of so many bandages."

"What did you tell him?"

"He wouldn't leave me alone, so I just told him the truth."

Winona grinned. "How'd he react to that?"

Allena snorted. "Uh, let's just say men from nineteen twenty have a more refined sense of propriety than men from my era do."

Wes had lingered for a while, trying to make head or tails of their conversation without interrupting again, and he finally gave up and turned to go back to base. Allena called after him. "See you later, Wes!"

He gave a one-handed salute over his shoulder as he strode away, carting the hefty haul back to the stockpile.

She went back to cutting saplings, and there was silence in the clearing for a minute or two. Then Winona's voice piped up, this time with a serious undertone. "What do you mean, men from nineteen twenty react differently to this stuff?"

Allena stopped mid-hack.

Oh, man. Of course, if Winona had been living alone…

She swallowed heavily. "Uh. Right. Uh, okay, so here's the thing…"

She explained briefly about how time passed differently in the outside world than it did in the Constant. "Wilson is from nineteen twenty, Wes is from nineteen thirty-eight, Wolfgang was oddly secretive about when he came from, but I figure he's probably from around the same sort of era as Wes and Wilson..."

Winona kept on hacking as she listened, and didn't even pause as she grunted out, "So what year was it out there when you got here?"

Allena hesitated a beat, then said, "Twenty-nineteen."

At this, Winona stopped. "You're kidding."

Allena shook her head. "No. I can show you some of the tech we have nowadays, if you'd like. We've made some pretty crazy advancements…"

"You mean like that toolbox?"

"The toolbox is nothing. What year was it when you disappeared?"

Winona stared blankly at her for a moment before responding, voice toneless, "Nineteen-o-eight."

Woah. She was from an older era than even Wilson.

Thus far everyone's reaction to discovering that decades had passed since they'd disappeared had been shock and confusion, with some frustration and awe mixed in. But so far it seemed like no one had left much of importance behind. Even Wolfgang had assured her, when she'd asked him one day, that his family would be alright without him and that he wasn't overly distressed about the passage of time. Winona, though…

When Allena spoke again, she spoke carefully. "I'm sorry to drop that on you. Are you okay?"

Winona's jaw had a stony set to it. Still, she nodded. "It's fine. I've never been one to cry over spilled milk. Still…"

Allena stuffed another bushel of sticks in the pack and said, "It's a lot to deal with. I didn't really leave behind any friends or even much family. Neither did Wilson or Wes, from what I know. But I know Wolfgang left behind some family, and I imagine that's tough on him, even if he's pretty steely about it. And Webber – well, you saw how he clung to his adopted mother. Losing his family was very hard on him. Did you leave behind a lot?"

"Mom and dad. Lot of buddies at the factory. And my cousin was my best friend. Other than my sister, that is."

Ouch. That was…really rough.

Allena occasionally thought about how much time may have passed since she'd vanished. Would she come back to discover her sister grown and married? Old and decrepit?

Long-dead?

Every time that thought even crossed her mind she shoved it quickly back down. She didn't even want to consider the possibility. She swallowed heavily and said, "I'm so sorry. That's a lot to lose. But if your sister is here in the Constant, I'm sure we'll be able to find her. And we're working on a way back home, so…"

She trailed off. Finding her sister would help, but getting back home wouldn't bring the rest of Winona's family back, wouldn't lessen her losses; only cement them the moment she looked at a calendar.

Winona sighed heavily, then straightened up. She'd paused only briefly in her work, and now she threw herself back into the task. "I appreciate it. I have to say, I was kind of starting to think finding Charlie would be impossible, but looking at how many people you guys have managed to round up I guess it might be manageable after all. Where do you…"

Winona kept talking, but what she said next went over Allena's head as her mind did a double take.

"…figure I can take care of any preparations myself. Think that would be okay?"

Allena shook her head and said, "Uh, sorry, I missed that. What did you say?"

Winona looked mildly annoyed that she'd stopped listening. "I said I wanted to use your map to go on an expedition. Do you think that would be doable?"

"No, before that. I mean, yes, it would be possible, but what did you say before that?"

Winona looked confused. "What, that finding my sister might be possible?"

"What did you say her name was?"

Winona frowned. "Charlie. My sister's name is Charlie."

Allena's heart skipped a beat as the memory of her painful encounter with Maxwell in the Thornwood Base sprung to mind; a name whispered softly in the back of her skull.

_Charlie…_

Her hand went instantly to her side pouch to pull out her phone only to discover that it was gone. Damn. She'd left it at the base on the solar charger.

She jumped up, grabbed the mostly-full pack, and said, "I'll be right back," before running out of the clearing.

Winona looked up from the sapling she was working on. "What? Where are you going?"

"Base!" Allena called back to her, picking up speed as she ran. Was it possible that the woman in the shadows – the woman Maxwell seemed to know – was Winona's sister?

As she reached home she heard Wes shuffling around behind the base, probably stacking the logs into a tidy pyramid. She spotted her charger, knelt down, pulled the phone off, and pulled open her photo gallery.

There. The woman in the shadows. Even as Allena gazed at the photo her mind starting drawing comparisons between the feral woman on the screen and the working woman back in the clearing. Going by the similarities, she decided it was entirely possible that they were related.

"Charlie," she said wonderingly, already considering how Winona would react to the picture.

"Hmm. Taking an interest in my old friend?"

Allena spun around, shoving the phone into her pocket and getting her legs under her. Maxwell stood behind her looking ashen and smug. His shadows rippled and pooled around him, and this time Allena kept her eye on them. She had no intention of enduring Maxwell's affections again.

Thankfully, the shadows didn't pursue her. They just blossomed out from him a bit, wavering, not unlike long strands of seaweed drifting in a calm, midday tide.

"Maxwell," she started, then paused.

She'd been up late the previous night, after their return, thinking about the man. About his claim that she'd spent enough time here, that it was about time their bargain closed. That terrified her, and she'd had nightmares about him the last few nights that she knew had nothing to do with his mental manipulations. Now, as she stood facing him, her brain desperately grabbed for something to say.

Should she tell him to piss off? The last time she'd done that he'd set the spider queen on her. But it was like Wilson said – if she kept being nice to him, he would keep coming back. But then, it seemed like he would pursue her regardless in his new interest in collecting his payment from her.

He continued in her silence. "Now, my dear, I cannot help but notice that you escaped my last debt collector. Whatever am I to do with you? It's almost as if you aren't awaiting the culmination of our little pact just as eagerly as I am. Surely you cannot wait for all this struggle and toil to be over? I assure you, it would be so much easier to just…acquiesce."

His lips drew back in a smile that sent a shudder through her body. He was very good with intimidating smiles.

She was silent for a long moment, as was the day around her. It took her a minute to realize why this was odd, then she heard the pounding of footsteps rounding the base. Wes had dropped what he'd been doing and was coming to confront Maxwell.

She paled. Had he heard what Maxwell had said about the bargain?

The demon rolled his eyes at Wes's hasty approach and one of his shadowy tentacles shot towards the weapons cabinet, opened it, and pulled a couple of small items out. Allena hardly had time to say, "Hey! Stop—" when Wes rounded the corner.

The tentacles reared around like a serpent and shot towards Wes as he barged into the base looking livid. They were so fast Allena couldn't even utter a warning before the two objects were lodged in Wes's thigh.

He stopped, looked down, and saw the black feathers of two sleep darts before his legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground near Maxwell's feet, totally unconscious.

Allena stared, but did not run to him. She didn't want to get near Maxwell.

Well, an unconscious Wes was better than a dead, injured, or kidnapped Wes. Hopefully that meant Maxwell just wasn't interested in dealing with him.

Still, she gritted her teeth, trying as usual to project anger instead of fear. What was Maxwell going to do now? Could she hope to fend his attacks off on her own? And if she fled them as she had the spider queen, would that mean leaving an unconscious Wes alone to suffer the consequences?

Maxwell looked more cheerful. "There. Just the two of us. More proper, I think. Now, then, may I offer you a cup of tea? Chamomile and strychnine, perhaps? Though, I suppose that's a dreadful way to go. Hours of pain, nothing at all like all the fictional depictions. Arsenic takes even longer. Ah, but cyanide!" He licked his lips as though imagining a delectable treat. "Far faster, I assure you. Perhaps not as quick as simply submitting to my creations would have been, but—"

"Who is Charlie?" Allena asked, cutting him off. Listening to him was making her feel sick and faint.

Whatever visceral reaction he'd had to that name had faded. Now he looked unimpressed. "No one of any importance, not anymore. It doesn't do to linger on the past. Only to look to the future."

Her mouth felt dry. She knew exactly what future he had in mind, and he wasn't willing to wait much longer for it.

She pressed further. "Then who are you? How did you get here? When? Why are you doing this? Why did you bring me here?"

Maxwell responded to the barrage of questions with cold disinterest, inspecting his fingernails throughout the interrogation. "There is nothing you need to know about me that you do not know already. Now, I think cyanide and English breakfast ought to satisfy y—"

Again she cut him off, panic flooding her as his shadows pulsed under him, and this time her mouth moved nearly of its own accord. It spat up the memory of a name heard in the deepest vestiges of her mind, in a golden mansion ready-made just for her. She asked,

"Who are you, Mr. Carter?"

He stopped talking, exhaling sharply through the nose and bending forward slightly, as though she had just jabbed him sharply in the gut. His mouth stopped moving, and his eyes went wide. "What…did you just call me?"

"Mr. Carter," she replied. "That's what the thing in the mansion called you. The Shadow."

She saw something strange flash in Maxwell's eyes. Panic? Shock? Fear? Confusion? Alarm? Understanding?

She continued, mouth moving wildly in an attempt at self-preservation. "You aren't always yourself, you know that? And when you aren't, you do horrible things. But that isn't you, is it?" She realized with disconcertion that her tone was almost pleading. "You're better than that, aren't you?"

Who was she referring to – the cordial man who was once content to sit and have tea with her by the ponds on a fall day? Or maybe the man she saw straining against his bindings the night the Shadow sewed her soul back into her body? Was she appealing to that voice that tried to warn her of the Deerclops?

Whatever man she was appealing to didn't seem, at that moment, to be present. It looked like he was…indisposed. The Maxwell who stood before her didn't quite become the looming, monstrous, white-eyed thing that she had come to fear, but he still began to emanate the waves of cold that heralded nothing but bad times.

"You think too highly of me, my dear," he said coldly. "You've clearly gotten some sad notion that I'm a better man than I am. I've no idea where it came from…"

He waved his hand around, and a book appeared out of nowhere. He opened it to a page about halfway through, raised a hand over the tome, made several slow, precise movements with his fingers, and closed the book.

"…but I intend to cure you of it. It, and everything else."

He snapped his fingers, and black lightning split the sky. It struck the Vargwood perhaps a mile away, and though Allena wasn't doused in the same fear that had been invoked by the Deerclops, she was still stricken with a mild sense of impending doom.

_Could this just be another nightmare? Please, be just another nightmare._

Distant howling rent the air.

Maxwell did not smile. He did not bow, did not make any attempt at a cordial farewell as he normally did. Instead, with a tone as blank as his expression, he simply said, "I'll be seeing you soon."

That done, he collapsed into shadow which seeped into the ground like water into hot desert sand. She was alone.

Not alone. Wes was lying unconscious before her, and a pack of hounds was on its way.

She needed to put her armor on. She needed to set up the traps and snares. She needed to drag Wes away from the front of the base, somewhere safer, easier to defend. She needed to get ready.

But her mind was being pulled in too many different directions, and instead she froze.

_Winona is still out there._

That thought sent a thrill of panic through her. If the hounds caught her away from base—

Her panic was given a brief reprieve as she heard the pounding of approaching footfalls, and a moment later Winona came barging in. "Hounds!" She said. "We need to get ready. Do you have any…"

She trailed off as she noticed Wes, and Allena standing frozen in the middle of the base, probably pale and shaking. "What happened?" She asked, tone serious.

Allena cleared her throat and said, "Maxwell. He…"

Armor. Traps. Snares. Hounds.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Come on, we need to get ready. Can you move Wes while I start setting up traps?"

"Traps?" Winona asked, going straight to the matter at hand. "Sounds good. Those things can't be too far off."

Winona's voice was void of alarm. It was calm and confident, and just a bare hint of tension betrayed that she was at all concerned that danger was close at hand.

This, more than anything else, got Allena moving again. Her resolve hardened, if only a bit. She had friends to protect, and if they were ready and willing to face the oncoming danger, she needed to be, too.

She ran to the weapons cabinet as Winona grabbed Wes under the arms and started dragging him towards the back of the base, where he'd be well out of the way. Allena threw the doors open, grabbed a handful of traps, and rushed them out.

Her eyes automatically scanned the edge of the woods. Nothing yet. But another howl rent the air, and going by this one the hounds can't have been five minutes away – and that was a generous estimate.

She laid out three fire and two fang traps, ran back in, and grabbed the last fire trap. They were a bit low on the normal traps, but against the back wall were four more that she'd brought back from Krampus's cave.

She figured at least one or two might be bee traps like the one Krampus had sprung during his row with Wortox. But they all looked totally foreign, and there was no way of knowing what was in them or if they would even work.

Well, there was nothing for it. She grabbed them all, took them out, and started laying them down.

She put the foreign ones as far away as possible. She didn't know what the range on them was, and she didn't want to find out firsthand. Two of them were round with shiny little black spikes sticking out of them; one of them was tightly woven with grass and had traces of something slick and shiny on the outside, like slime. The last had a very odd shape, cylindrical and curved, like a small tuba. All of them had simple, familiar trigger mechanisms, and she was able to set them up with no difficulty.

Just as she got the last one up, she saw the hounds emerge from the forest.

Looked like she would have to forgo snares and armor.

She ran back in to see that Winona, not knowing how to set up the traps or snares, had made herself useful setting up medical supplies and laying the rest of their weapons out on a bench for easy access.

She looked up as Allena came over. "We ready for this?"

Allena said, voice high with apprehension, "I hope so. They're here."

She picked up a couple of blowguns and handed Winona a satchel of darts. "Black ones are sleep, red ones are fire, green are poison. White haven't been modified, they're just darts, but use them if you run out of the other ones. They still hurt like the dickens."

Winona nodded. She looked at Allena's armor. "You gonna put that on?"

"No time. Let's go."

Winona picked up the tentacle mace, twirling it around and giving it an approving look. Allena picked up her spear, tried twirling it, almost bonked herself in the forehead because her nerves were making her jittery, and finally just slid it into the harness on her back.

They headed out to face the hounds.

They had emerged from the forest. Allena's gut clenched in fear as she saw no less than eight of the beasts sprinting at them full tilt.

This would be a rough fight. It occurred to her that Winona didn't have any experience with blowguns and traps, and Allena's mouth started moving automatically in an effort to brief her as briefly as  
possible.

"Okay, wait back here and let them run into the traps. If a hound hits a fire trap, don't try a sleep dart – the pain of the fire will counteract the sedative. Use a poison dart. The fast blood flow will make it do more damage. Use sedatives on the ones that hit the fang traps – combined with the blood loss, it'll knock them out. Don't use fire if they're within ten feet of us. We don't want them closing and setting us on fire." Her mouth was moving rapidly, and she wished she'd had more time to prepare for this. She took note of two hounds that she'd never seen before, but recognized from Wilson's descriptions, and she regurgitated the advice he'd given her some months ago. "The red ones expel fire when they die, so try to get those ones first – they'll set the other hounds on fire. Fire darts don't work on them, though, so try a combination of sedatives and poison and hope they run into fang traps."

The first of the hounds reached them. It would be hitting a trap momentarily, so Allena stuffed a fire dart into her blowgun, took aim at a black hound far in the back, and let fly.

It burst into flames and snarled in pain, thrashing around and spreading the fire to one of its packmates. It brushed a red hound, too, but sure as Wilson had said, the fire didn't catch. At the same time as she ignited one hound, the forerunner kicked one of the foreign traps. A round one. It rolled a couple of inches, shook briefly, then exploded in a humming swarm.

Four bees shot out of the trap and began stinging the front hound, causing it to yelp in pain and stop. It whipped around snapping at the bees, and while it was doing that Allena loaded a poison dart in and shot it. The pain of the dart went unnoticed in the swarm of bees, but the poison would act fast and hopefully put it out of commission soon.

Another dart flew, this one blown by Winona. It was a sleep dart, and it struck the leg of one of the red hounds. Not a great shot, but not too bad for someone who had never used one of the blowguns. Thankfully, the hounds were so thick on the field that it was hard not to hit them.

 _Yeah,_ she thought in a bout of bitter cynicism. _Thankfully._

The hounds were howling fit to crack the heavens as the assault began in earnest. Three hounds, two already on fire, shot forward right behind the first, passing it by as its snarls turned to yelps of pain under the bees' agonizing ministrations. Allena lodged a sleep dart in one of the approaching hounds, and a moment later it triggered a fang trap. It toppled. Another one hit a fire trap, which redoubled the damage it was taking, and Winona let a poison dart fly. Looked like a crash course in dart warfare was all she needed.

Suddenly, a horrific shriek split the air. Allena's hands automatically flew towards her ears to cover them, but she stopped them halfway to her head and forced them to keep loading darts, putting another couple poisons into the flaming hounds. _What the hell was that sound?_

She suppressed a bray of laughter as one of the hounds in the back jumped straight into the air three feet, not unlike a cat, and Allena saw the oddly tuba-shaped trap jittering on the ground beneath it. It was an alarm.

Well, that left the startled hound vulnerable. She put a sleep dart in it, watched it stumble as it hit the ground, and turned her attention to the last approaching wave.

Three black hounds and a red one. It looked like the red hound would be hitting the last unknown trap, the slimy wicker woven one. Hopefully whatever was in it would at least stun it, because only two of the eight hounds were completely out of commission so far. The fang trap sleep dart combo had knocked one out, and the bee trap had done wonders on the forerunner, but the flaming, poisoned hounds were still lively, if distracted, and it would take a fair bit more to…

The red hound hit the unassuming little wicker trap, and both Allena and Winona staggered backwards as a concussive blast rocked the clearing.

Dirt flew everywhere, and Allena was briefly blinded. She ripped her hip flask off her waist and splashed some water on her face to clear her eyes. Her ears were ringing and the first coherent thought was,

_Not again!_

But this time, the deafness was short lived. A few seconds later the ringing deepened and her ears started popping. Thank goodness.

She washed the dirt out of her eyes to survey the scene.

Dust and smoke were swirling everywhere, and she saw a hulking form moving towards them in the haze. Winona was still stunned and blind, and Allena grabbed her and shoved her back a few feet, drawing the spear and readying for an attack.

The hound dragged itself out of the dust cloud…and collapsed. As the smoke blew away a bit, she saw that its back legs were mangled, smoking messes. Still, she stabbed it in a face a few times for good measure as she waited for the dust to clear. When it did, the muscles in her upper body went lax in awe, and her spear dropped to her side.

Holy crap.

The little wicker trap had contained some sort of slimy explosive. The blast had knocked down all the injured hounds, killed a couple of them, and reduced the red hound that had triggered it to…

Ugh. While the two black hounds that had followed close behind the red one and caught a good portion of the explosion had been burned to chunks of blackened meat, the red one was another story. Its invulnerability to fire had rendered it impervious to the cauterizing effect of the explosion, so rather than instantly cooking, it had simply been ripped apart. Chunks of bone and crimson strips of pelt were strewn about the field, and when Allena lifted her hand to wipe some sweat off her brow she realized that the liquid covering her face was _not_ sweat.

Oh. Gross. That was just…gross.

She was wearing hound innards like Wes wore his face paint – in a thick, even coating that left no patch of skin revealed. The thought made her stomach churn. She dumped the rest of her water on her face and washed some of the blood off. Then she noticed some hounds still stirring.

Again, _ugh._ She was too dazed to even think about melee combat. Instead she stuffed a poison dart into her blowgun and fired at the first one to move. She began peppering the living hounds with poison, and soon enough they were all lying still on the ground.

Winona was coughing heavily, and Allena turned to help her out. She pulled the woman's hip flask off her belt, undid the cap, and handed it to her. Winona dumped the contents over her face and with a refreshed sound and a couple more hacking coughs, she was back in the game. Although it looked like the game was over.

She surveyed the scene, then her face split into a wide grin. "Wow. What was that trap?"

Allena shook her head. "No idea," she said thickly. "Found it in Krampus's cave. Glad I didn't accidentally set it off earlier."

Winona snorted, hocked up a wad of phlegm that was dark with the dirt in her lungs and nose, and stepped back to lean against the base. "Well, that was fun. Think when the boys get back they'll—"

They both froze. Though their hearing was still a bit off, they'd both heard something that suggested things were about to get a lot worse.

Allena looked at her and said, "Was that what I think it was?"

Winona nodded, and for the first time since they'd met, Allena thought she looked pale. "Yeah, but there's no way. I mean, I've never even seen a wave of _eight_ hounds. We can't possibly…"

Allena swallowed heavily. "Have to deal with another one?"

They looked at each other. They listened again, and this time the sound was sharper, clearer.

Another pack was baying in the forest.

They turned and ran back into the base.


	37. The Ambush

This time they were out of traps. All of the traps that hadn't been triggered by the first wave of hounds had been destroyed in the explosion. Allena set up the snares while Winona threw on the thickest beefalo leathers she could find. Allena also fetched out the jars of poison that she'd taken from the Walrus camp and tasked Winona with dipping the unpoisoned darts in them. They needed to dry to be effective, so it would take at least fifteen minutes before they could use them. If there was another wave after this one…

She shook her head and prayed that this wave would be smaller, and the last. They couldn't hope to hold off eight more hounds.

They had a bit more time. Winona helped her strap on her armor, and they agreed that when the hounds got close enough for melee combat, Allena would hold their attention and take the bites while Winona stabbed them. Wes was, sadly, still unconscious.

They loaded their blow guns with fire darts, intent on setting them aflame from as far away as possible, and as an afterthought Allena grabbed a thermos of emergency tea. She took a long draught then handed it to Winona. "Here, drink this. It's good stuff."

Winona eyed it warily, but took a quick swig. Her eyes widened, and she took a longer one. Then she set it down and grinned. "Woo! Better than a hot cup of black coffee…almost."

Allena forced a smile. "I've always been a tea girl myself. Milk and honey, biscuits with jam. Very prissy."

Winona laughed as they went out to face the hounds, who by the sound of it were probably in sight by then. "Tea party type of girl, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. And mark my words, we're having one after this is all over."

"Not really my cup of tea."

Allena snorted as she caught sight of the new pack. "Hey, here I am spending the whole day fighting and working and fighting with you, and you won't give me one little tea party?"

Winona grinned fiercely and raised her blowgun as one of the hounds came in range. "Eh, alright. Fair enough. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Allena agreed. Going by the size of the newest wave of hounds…

They might just make it to tomorrow.

A pack of four, three black and one red, was racing towards them. Though still intimidating, odds were better than even that they could beat them back. They just needed to use their remaining weapons wisely.

Allena and Winona both took deep breaths and blew, launching their projectiles at the same time. This time they fired from a greater distance, but thankfully, they both hit. The two black hounds in the back burst into flame.

She and Winona worked in perfect sync, reloading and firing almost simultaneously, and by the time the hounds closed with them they had all been reduced to staggering, smoldering, poisoned mutts. Except for the red hound, which was just staggering. They'd only sedated and poisoned that one, hoping to down it from a distance. They didn't want to be next to it when it died. The death-combustions of the first two had been overridden by the explosion of the slime trap, so they weren't quite sure how deadly it was.

Still, melee combat was dangerous. She'd only ever killed one half-sedated hound before. Four at once…

She noted dully that terror was present somewhere in her head, but it seemed to be dammed up behind a wall of pure adrenaline that left little room for thought or feeling. Just action.

Allena slipped the blowgun into her waistband and drew her spear. As a huge black hound lurched forward, she jabbed it in the eye. She wanted to hop back or sidestep, but Winona, largely unarmored, was counting on her to hold their attention. Retreating and evading, Allena's favorite tactics, weren't an option this time.

The red hound lunged for her, and she jammed her spear down its throat, holding it in place as it struggled to bite the shaft off. One of the dogs had collapsed when Winona shot one last sedative at it, but the last black hound darted around towards her.

She couldn't handle a frontal assault from a hound, not in some paltry beefalo leathers. Keeping the spear down the red hound's gullet with one hand, she reached out and grabbed the smaller one's pelt as it snuck by and shouted, "Oi! Sphincter-face! Eyes on me!"

It snarled in response, whipped around, and gladly obliged by latching onto her arm.

Allena jerked the limb back knowing that when a dog latched on it would hold all the tighter if you tried to pull away. She forced it to her side, maintained her wavering grip on the spear as the red hound thrashed back and forth, and lifted her leg to kick the first attacking hound as it darted for her again.

Three. Three hounds. She was covered in them, and drunk on pain and poison though they were, they were still juggernauts of teeth and muscle. At this point the only reason she wasn't being knocked to the ground and torn apart was because they were all exerting equal pressure on her from their different angles, creating a pyramidal force that kept her upright.

Then the tentacle spike came down on the small hound's head with the force of a sledgehammer on a railroad spike, and it dropped like a sack of stones as two of the spines cracked through the skull and lodged in its brain.

Winona yanked it out and wound up for another blow, but without the force of the small hound propping her up on the right, Allena went careening to the ground under the force of the red hound's assault.

The last black hound leaped at her face, but she threw her fist forward and shoved it straight down the beast's gullet. The red hound took advantage of the new angle and dove forward, and the spear shaft was wrenched from her hand as it snapped right below the head. The red hound was making retching sounds, gurgling and hocking up gobs of blood, but it finally spat the head out. It, too, went for her throat, and she shoved her other arm in its way.

Winona began wailing on the hounds as Allena's arms were compressed near their breaking point by the beasts' fury. The black one was alternating between forcing itself forward, further onto her arm, and pulling back. She'd grabbed something wet and slimy in its throat, though, and she wasn't letting go. Having her arm in its mouth wasn't ideal, but it prevented it from going for anything else.

No thought. No feeling. Just action.

The black hound went down under a few well-placed bashes by Winona, but the red hound was too big. It wasn't letting go, and two of the spines on the tentacle tip had broken off in the last hound, making it little better than a big, unwieldy purple club. The red hound was squeezing Allena's arm, trying to force its way through the wood and gold armor, and the dam of adrenaline cracked. Pain began leaking through, and she first squealed and then began to scream as the wood splintered and the limb was pushed to the edge of what it could endure.

Then there was a blur of red behind the hound, and a sheen of silver.

An ornate metal axe lodged itself in the skull of the dog. The beast went rigid and twitched once. Twice. One more time.

Knowing what that meant, Allena curled away and covered her face, and Winona flew back with a cry a moment before fire shot out of the hound's pelt in a few concentrated bursts. Thankfully, it all went over Allena's head, with the worst plume billowing straight up out of the fatal wound.

Finally, the hound went limp and it toppled forward onto her, eliciting a small cough from her as it slumped right onto her diaphragm. She heard a familiar voice chortling, "Hyuyu, so badly behaved! I do hope the pooch wasn't yours, friend?"

Winona shouted, "Woah!" and brought her tentacle mace up in front of her warningly. Allena gasped and tried to sit up, and a moment later the hound was shifted off of her, giving her room to breathe. Her savior, having moved the hound, stepped back and looked down at her.

"Wortox!" She exclaimed. The vestiges of her adrenal dam fell away, relief and warmth pouring out where panic and pain had been moments before.

She reached out for a hand up, but though Wortox's hand twitched as though he were going to offer her one, he quickly reneged and put it behind his back. "Forgive me. My hands have been badly behaved of late. A hand up would result in a nasty fate."

Allena frowned at first, then she noticed one of his hands emanating just a hint of reddish glow and she caught on. "Oh, Uh, that's okay. I got it… _ow."_

She couldn't quite keep in a noise of discomfort as she tried to force herself to her feet with her gnawed up arm. The wood had a few splits in it from the force of the hound's bite, and though the fangs hadn't more than nicked the skin through the plating, the compression had done a number on her.

Winona helped her to her feet. "Thanks," she said, then noticed Winona still staring at Wortox. "Oh, Winona! This is Wortox. I told you guys about him the other night."

Wortox was standing a few feet away, smiling politely, but with a slightly detached vibe to him. Winona perked right up on recognizing the name. "Oh! Gotcha! I should've remembered that." She stepped forward to greet him, sticking out her hand. "Name's Winona. Pleased to meet'cha."

Wortox looked at the offered limb, and she seemed to recall what he'd said about nasty fates. "Ah, right." She pulled her hand back. "No handshakes, then. Mind if I ask what's wrong with your hands?"

Wortox's ears twitched. "That is a long story, one to be told another time. For now, I think it would be good to prepare."

"Prepare?" Allena asked. "Prepare for what?"

As she said it, another bout of howling rent the air. Her heart sank.

Winona cursed. "More hounds? You've got to be kidding me! How many can there possibly be?"

Wortox shook his head. "I do not know. But I saw something quite strange in my rush to investigate the wailing of your horn. Did you see the shadow that split the sky?"

"You mean that black lightning?" Allena asked.

"Yes, yes. Bleak tidings, indeed! With such force comes only wicked, naughty things. And I saw something terribly dreadful on my way here, right where the shadow struck! A pile of bones, ten feet tall, tucked away in a little clearing in the forest!"

He sounded delighted, like a child who had stumbled across a fairy ring in a meadow.

Winona thumped her tentacle club absentmindedly in her hand. "You think that's the source of these things?"

Wortox nodded seriously. "It smelled strongly of black magic and dog hair."

Allena considered this. If there was some sort of fountain of hounds – a hound mound – then it would have to be destroyed as soon as possible. Otherwise the hounds would just wear them down until one of them made a fatal mistake.

But…Wes was still unconscious. They couldn't leave him alone. If they went to confront the hounds and a single one got past them, it would tear Wes to pieces in his sleep.

Going by the troubled look on Winona's face, she was thinking along the same lines. Or maybe she was thinking about something totally different. Allena still didn't have a solid read on her.

Allena shook her head. "What do we do?"

Wortox flapped his ears and said, "We go and trash the pile, of course! The hounds cannot be better than all three of us together!"

He cheerfully tugged his long-handled axe – Allena thought it was maybe called a halberd, or something – out of the hound and twirled it as though it were as light as a plastic baton.

Allena was about to say something, but Winona beat her to it. Evidently she _had_ been thinking about Wes, because she said, "We have an unconscious friend here. We can't leave him unguarded."

"Then wake him up! Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!"

Allena explained, "He was sedated. All the eggs and bacon in the world wouldn't wake him up."

More howling came from the forest, signaling that they had little more time for discussion. What should they do? Go after the hound mound together and hope that none got past them? Leave someone here to guard Wes? If so, who? Or should they wait until…

She shook her head. They couldn't wait. A hound pack could tear Wolfgang and Wilson apart if they came across it unprepared, and even if it didn't there would be no way they could make it back to base with the mound continually spawning more on their backs. Allena wasn't sure when they would be back from their hunt, but if they were only downing a beefalo it couldn't be too much longer.

No. Waiting wasn't an option.

"We need to go get the mound now," she said. "But I don't want to risk leaving Wes alone." She thought her tone may have betrayed a hint of the helpless feeling she was experiencing. What was the best way out of this?

Winona clenched her jaw and shook her head. "There's no way you and I can push that mound. But you, Wortox, you seem pretty capable—"

They all turned as another loud, manic baying erupted from the forest a short ways away. Another pack of four emerged, this time only with black hounds.

Wortox's ears twitched. He didn't look worried. "Oh, yes. I have had to deal with bad doggies before. They are not so very bad if you know how to handle them. And I think I will be quite able to disperse the bones, but not alones, no, no."

Allena took a shaky breath. The adrenaline was pumping, but the gland in charge of secreting it was overworked. She was getting tired. She didn't want to get close to that mound. The idea very nearly petrified her.

But she didn't really have the strength to down a hound by herself were one to make it to the base. Winona did.

As the dogs drew closer, she came to the clear conclusion. "Wortox, we'll finish this last pack of hounds then run for the mound. Winona, you stay behind and protect Wes."

Winona scowled. "No way. Wortox and I can take care of the mound."

Allena raised her blowgun as one of the hounds came in range, and there was no more time for debate. "Nope. As the senior member in the base, I'm calling the shots. I go, you stay. No arguing."

Winona had also raised her gun to her lips, and as she blew her eyes widened indignantly in response to Allena's bold statement. "What?! How do you—"

"No arguing! Blow!"

She blew another dart and Winona growled and followed suit. Wortox stood there chortling.

"Hyuyuyu! Tongues like darts, sharp and piercing! No time for talk, though. Puppies to play with!"

One of the hounds that had managed to get through with barely a singed coat jumped forward, and Wortox swung his halberd like a baseball bat, cutting off the slavering hound's lower jaw and sending it crashing to the ground. It skidded, leaving a thick trail of blood in the dirt, and slumped onto its side as it thrashed out the last of its life.

She and Winona loaded the farthest hounds up with fire. They both hit the most distant one at once, and the reaction was so powerful that the hound went mad, running in circles and yelping loudly as the flames ate at its pelt.

The last two reached them smoking and only slightly poisoned. Allena grabbed the broken spear from the ground and prodded one in the eye as Wortox swung at the other. It had seen its friend go down, though, and it was being more wary, ducking away from the long-handled axe. As Allena and Winona worked together to keep one at bay with their broken weapons, Wortox tangoed with the more agile foe.

"You can't take a mound by yourselves," Winona said as she thumped the hound on the nose. It yelped. "Wortox is impressive, but—"

"I have armor," Allena cut in. "And I'll load myself up with the rest of the sleep and poison darts."

"No fire?" Winona grunted as Wortox's hound went down under a well-timed blow.

Allena stabbed the hound in the nose and it leapt back right into Wortox's halberd, which was promptly lodged in its spine. "Not in the middle of a forest. You remember that little black patch in the south of the Pigwood on Wilson's map?"

"Oh. Forest fire?"

"Yup. Apparently they go fast."

There were now two twitching, dying hounds at their feet and one burning one running in circles, still on fire, screaming bloody murder in front of them.

They watched it for a moment or two, then Allena said, "Wortox, I'm going to go grab a few things. Then we'll head for the mound. Okay?"

Wortox nodded, and Winona scowled. But she kept her peace.

Allena ran back inside, stuffed a handful of the just-dried poison darts in her pouch, snagged the last nine sleep darts – Wilson would have a hell of a time replenishing the stores after this – and strapped a backpack and a new, fresh spear to her back.

She also, as an afterthought, grabbed a couple of boomerangs and shoved them in her belt. Her skill with them wasn't amazing – she'd had little time for practice – but she was usually able to hit her target. Most of the time. If it wasn't moving.

A wave of sickening fear welled up and threatened to crash over her. Maxwell wanted her dead. Was she playing into his hands by going out like this?

She forced the fear away. She had more important things to be worrying about.

She glanced back over at Wes. He was still totally unconscious. On an impulse, she walked over to him. She would be back, she knew she would, but just in case…

She reached into her fanny pack and pulled out a small piece of paper she always kept with her along with a handful of other small, important keepsakes. The note he'd written her and Wilson that first night in the Thornwood Base. A heart encircling an A and a W, signed by Wes.

She looked at it and smiled at the memory. Then she snagged a pencil off of Wilson's desk, turned the paper over, and penned a similar message. Love to Wes, from Allena.

She tucked it into his hand, clasped it for him, kissed his forehead, and took off.

Wortox had finished off the rest of the hounds. Now, as she came out and began jogging towards the forest, he grinned and hoisted his halberd. "Goodie! Off we go!" He called back over his shoulder as he began trotting away, "Worry not, new friend of mine, I'll bring Allena back well and fine!"

Allena looked back to see Winona shaking her head, brows creased with worry. Allena waved goodbye to her and yelled, "Just look after Wes, and keep an eye on the forest!"

Winona gave one sharp nod and turned to go back into the base.

The pair made it to the tree line, and Allena asked, "Which way to the mound?"

Wortox smacked his forehead. "That is the word I was searching for earlier! Mound!"

Allena rolled her eyes. Always with the rhymes. "Which way, Wortox?"

"This way, this way!" He said excitedly as he pointed her slightly due west. She felt a stirring of unease as they set off in that direction, and strangely it had little to do with the hounds.

Or did it?

There hadn't been any more howling since they'd started, and that was odd. Shouldn't another wave have spawned by then?

Wortox didn't seem too concerned. He ran through the Vargwood giggling playfully as they neared their destination. "Mound! Hound! Hound mound, hound mound! What have I found? A mound of hound! The name is sound, it's a found hound mound! Hyuyuyu!"

Allena saw a pinecone on the ground, and automatically paused to pick it up and toss it in her backpack. They were getting low. "Hey, Wortox. You know where we put bad dogs in my world?"

He slowed for a moment and asked, "Where?"

"In the pound."

At one his ears went up and he _hyuyuyuy'd_ again. "A bad hound from the mound may get sent to the pound! Who knows how many bad hounds are around! And—"

Ahead of them, at last, an earsplitting chorus of howls rent the air, and Wortox stopped dead in his tracks as his ears flickered forward. Then he licked his lips and said, "That is not a very nice sound."

Allena shuddered. That sounded like more than four hounds. Actually, that sounded like more than eight hounds. And they didn't sound very far off.

It had been maybe ten minutes since the last wave, more than twice as long as the others had taken to spawn. Had Maxwell backed them up in order to spawn more at once?

She'd frozen, but as she looked over at Wortox she saw that he was once again chortling. "Hyuyuyu! Worry not, dear friend! I have a sound that will confound any hound!"

A sound to confound any hound? She frowned.

He pulled out a little wooden flute. Or a series of flutes all strung together. What were those called again?

Then an ounce of her Greek mythology came back to her and she said, "Is that…a panpipe?"

Wortox nodded and got a mischievous glint in his eyes. "A gift from dearest mother. I can only use it every so often, but it will suffice. You will need to plug your ears very, very tightly before I use it though! Please do so, stay right here, and don't unplug 'till I say it's clear!"

She said, "Wait, what are you—"

But without another word he bounded towards the hounds.

She gulped, but did as he said. She plugged her ears as best she could. She was good at it from all the practice she had cowering during scary movies. And this was one thriller she definitely wanted to tone down.

She waited, heart hammering at the prospect of Wortox dealing with so many hounds at once, and suddenly a curious sensation washed over her. She felt drowsy. Very drowsy. Maybe it was something in the air? Maybe if she could hear it a bit better, she would…

She shook her head and forced her fingers further into her ears. What was Wortox doing?

Not a minute later he popped back into the clearing, smiling broadly, and gestured 'all clear'. She took her fingers out of her ears and yawned.

Wortox laughed. "Look at you, how you sway on your feet! My mother's flute is a powerful thing indeed! Come, see!"

She rubbed her eyes and followed him, forcing herself back to wakefulness. This was no time for a nap.

It didn't take long to get there, though even before she caught sight of the towering mound of bones she felt a shudder wrack her spine. Something was wrong. What was it?

Then she emerged into the clearing…and nearly collapsed with relief.

A solid dozen hounds, ten black and two red, were all sleeping before a mountain of blank white bones. Wortox was already dancing around with his axe putting them down as they slumbered. She didn't want to say anything lest she wake them, so she just watched.

It was gruesome, watching him prance and whirl, letting a bloody path through the clearing. He aimed to decapitate them, and his axe was easily sharp enough to do it. One by one the black hounds were euthanized, their heads never even lifting before they fell to the ground and rolled just slightly on the pine-padded ground.

He didn't attack the red ones, and Allena knew why. If they combusted, they could easily set the forest on fire. Though thick pine bark was generally resistant to flames – and the trees in the clearing had bark as thick as could be, they were massive – the needles would catch, and that would be more than enough to get the whole forest floor burning. There was no telling how far it would spread.  
Wortox looked at her and gestured to the mound, and she held up one finger. _Wait just a moment._

She crept over to him and asked, quietly, "How long will they stay asleep?"

"The sound of us pounding the mound will wake them, very likely."

"Got it. Give me just a sec."

He watched as she pulled out her blowgun. She loaded a sleep dart into it and aimed for the closest one. She nodded at Wortox as she gestured to it, and he understood. If the dart woke the hound, he would need to kill it before it could wake the other one, fire or no.

He got his halberd ready. The silver blade was shining over his head as he prepared to drop it on the red hound's neck. Allena aimed for the dog's shoulder, took a deep breath, and fired.

The dart sank into the fur and the hound twitched. Its eyes opened. It lifted its head to look at her. Its muzzled twitched into a snarl…

…then it slumped back down. It was asleep.

Wortox lowered the halberd and gave her a thumbs up. She returned it and put another dart in the sleeping hound before double-sedating the second one, too. Hopefully that would be enough to keep them asleep.

She hoped that the massive wave meant that the mound would take a while to produce any more hounds. She stowed her gun in her pouch, reached forward, took several bones in her fists, and tugged them out of the hill.

As she stepped back and tossed the bones behind her a handful more skittered and tumbled down the side in a noisy series of clicks and clacks.

_Molars and fangs, the clickin' of bones. Spirits moaning among the tombstones…_

_…And the night when the wolves cry out, listen close and you can hear me shout…_

She looked around to see that the hounds hadn't stirred at the noise. Wortox looked reassured by this, and he grabbed a handful as well.

The sedatives worked. They both dug in, scattering the bones while being careful not to hit the snoozing red hounds. After the sound gained in volume and carried on for a while without any hint of the them waking, Wortox actually leapt onto the hill with his nimble goat feet and started dancing around in circles sending bones tumbling down like a macabre Jacob's ladder.

She had to keep in a laugh as she watched him dance. It was graceful and peppy, a stark contrast to the otherwise gothic scene. He looked just like one of the fauns from Fantasia, the ones that pranced about crushing grapes into wine for Bacchus.

No vines ever grew grapes this sour, though. What were all of these bones from? She saw plenty of ribcages and skulls, femurs and spines and such, but for all she knew they could be from anything. Some of the ribs were too large to be human – beefalo, probably – but many of the bones could easily belong to a variety of mammals. Pigs or MacTusks, for instance.

Then a human skull landed at her feet. It had rectangular glasses and a few tufts of grey hair done up in a bun. The skull looked oddly…stern.

An old woman? Damn. Maxwell was some kind of special.

She frowned at this skull and picked it up gingerly, placing it in her backpack. She would bury it when she got back to base.

She didn't see any more human skulls come crashing down, and with Wortox's help they were able to dismantle the bulk of the pile. A few times as they were working they felt the mound vibrate angrily, almost as though it were full of bees, but every time this happened they tore into it with renewed fervor and the vibrations stopped. It seemed like it was trying to spew out more hounds, but didn't quite have the strength, or else couldn't do it while it was being destroyed.

Ten feet of bones were reduced to six fairly quickly. As it widened out nearer the base it took a while longer, but soon it was down to five. Then four. Then three. Then…

Wortox was now digging in the middle, tossing bones away willy-nilly, when he abruptly stood up. "My, my. What a large beasty. Are you the source of these dark magics?"

Allena leaned forward to look at what Wortox had found. She could just barely see the bump of a large spine sticking up out of some bone shards, and she asked, "What is it?"

Wortox opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. He hunkered down and began excavating. "Showing is better than telling! Let us see what lies at the bottom of this morbid little mountain!"

Allena started wading through the bones, evenly distributing much of the remaining three-foot pile across the clearing. By the time she'd ensured that there wasn't a pile large enough for a hound to crawl out of, Wortox had uncovered his find.

It was a skeleton, shattered and mangled. It looked like the spine had been stomped on, the skull caved in, and the leg bones all shattered into pieces. It also looked familiar.

It belonged to a hound the size of a Hummer.

Her eyes widened, and she paled as she realized where they were. "Wortox," she said. Her throat was dry enough that she hardly made a sound. She tried again. "Wortox?"

He looked at her. Then he looked past her.

She turned, already knowing what she would see, but it chilled her to the bone regardless.

Maxwell was standing at the entrance to the clearing. One hand rested against a massive pine tree. In the other was a wooden sign that had obviously been torn from one of the nearby trunks.

LIVING FOREST. DO NOT LOG.

He was standing there looking quite pleased with himself.

Before he could say or do anything Allena addressed Wortox. "Kill the hounds."

Wortox protested. "Fire in the forest is never well-planned. It can very easily get out of hand—"

 _"Do it!"_ She said, struggling to keep her voice below a screech. Things were about to get bad, and they wouldn't be able to survive with two red hounds on their tails in addition to what was about to wake up.

Wortox pouted, but he hoisted his halberd. "Well…If we're careful, I'm sure we will be just fine."

A grin spread across Maxwell's face. "Knock on wood," he said cheekily. Then he pushed off the tree he was leaning on, curled his hand into a fist, and knocked on the trunk three times. That done, he sank into the ground and vanished once more.

Wortox had just decapitated a red hound and leapt away from the ensuing fire as the tree Maxwell had knocked on began groaning loudly.

Wortox blinked, looked up at the emerging Treeguard, and said in a tone of polite incredulity, "How did I miss you?"

A few patches of pine needles were on fire, and Wortox, unperturbed by the treeguard, began stamping them out. "Sorry! So sorry! I will take care of this right away!"

Wortox didn't seem to realize that the Treeguard was a threat, and as he worked on dousing the fires the trees all around the grove began creaking and groaning.

One of the Treeguards took a first stumbling step. Wortox hopped around making noises of mild discomfort as he put out the small patches of smoldering needles. "Allena, my friend! They do not like our setting fires!"

Allena backed away from the waking Treeguards, towards Wortox in the middle of the clearing. "They don't care about the fire, Wortox. That's not what woke them up. Maxwell did."

Wortox's nose wrinkled. "Was that the fellow I saw there? Was that the infamous Maxwell? Oh, what fun! We ought to play a few tricks on him."

"Last hound, Wortox! We need to leave!"

Wortox let out a noise of agitation and walked over to the last hound. He lifted his halberd, brought it down on the hound's neck, and jumped back as the flames blossomed out. "There! Now just let me stamp out these last few…"

Before he could even try, one of the treeguards stepped forward, its foot landing just shy of Wortox and putting out the last fires. Wortox looked up at the Treeguard and said pleasantly, "Why, thank you kindly sir! Do forgive me for my clumsiness. My friend here—"

He did not get through the sentence. The Treeguard lifted a massive limb and swept it forward. Such was Wortox's assurance that the Treeguards were harmless that he didn't even take note of it.

Allena hurtled forward and crashed into Wortox, pushing him out of the way just as the clawed hand swept down. She felt a harsh stinging on her shoulders as the branches scraped her, and Wortox bleated in surprise. "Why?!"

They were now between the Treeguard's legs, and the rest of the grove was stepping towards them. Allena grabbed Wortox by the scruff and dragged him to his feet, out of the middle of the clearing. "Wortox, can you use that pipe again to put them back to sleep?"

Wortox got up and was looking at the Treeguards with wide eyes. As the one that had swiped at him turned around, he called, "I'm afraid not. It will be some time before I can use it again." Then he called up to the Treeguard, "No need to fight, my great tree friend! We will be on our way!"

The Treeguard looked at him. Then, Allena saw something disturbing. Insects were crawling in and out of its branches, swarming its needles and eyes as though it were beginning to rot. It reminded her of the Varg, whose remains had been mulched in this very clearing.

It leaned forward, took a massive, stomping, step, and roared.

The roar was echoed by the rest of the grove, and Wortox's ears went straight back as his hands flew up to cover them. The Treeguards didn't sound angry. They sounded like they were in horrible, horrible pain.

Wortox looked at her, looked at the Treeguards, and bleated, _"Run!"_

Finally. The two of them took off in the direction of the base, but as they did Allena got the sneaking suspicion that she would be hard-pressed to reach even the edge of the forest. After all, when the Spider Queen had pursued her, Maxwell had given it absurd speed and endurance. And when she'd last fled a Treeguard, she'd barely made it out of the Northwood.

She put on all the speed she could and ran, keeping a close eye on the greenery and foliage. She expected every root in the forest to be trying to trip her up, every thorn to catch her, every fallen branch to impede her.

The Treeguards groaned and rumbled again, but although they were managing a good pace, they weren't really going as fast as she expected them to. If anything, they were a bit slower. Why?

She slowed to look back, and she noticed something odd. Unlike her first time encountering a Treeguard, the forest wasn't doing this mob any favors. They were shoving their way through the forest with the same blind, uncaring fury that the Spider Queen had shown. They were stepping on bushes, ripping branches off of trees, and leaving deep gouges in the earth. When the first Treeguard had attacked, the colossal being had hardly left a trail to follow. The Treeguards and the forests had a close mutual bond. Now, it was as if the forest had forsaken them.

Wortox let out a low, sad keening. "What is wrong with them?"

Allena put on another burst of speed and said, "Maxwell! He wants me dead, and he's been recruiting things to do that recently. He made the hound mound for me, he drove a Spider Queen insane to kill me, and now he's corrupted the entire living grove!"

"Why? Why?"

Should she tell him? There wasn't much time to explain. But then, she also felt like Wortox was the kind of person to keep a secret. If he cherished names as much as he did, secrets would surely be just as well-worth hoarding. "I made a deal with Maxwell. It comes into effect when I die. I don't want to talk about it to anyone, though, so please don't mention it to my friends."

Wortox veered in close, stuck his nose on her shoulder, and sniffed. "Hmm. Debt? Curious."

The Treeguards were bellowing like a horde of beefalo in heat. That is to say, loudly enough that they could undoubtedly be heard all the way back at the base. What would Winona do when she saw them? More importantly, what was she, Allena, going to do about this? She couldn't fight them.

…or could she?

These things would probably target her just like the Spider Queen did. If they were all focusing on her, maybe Wortox and Winona could start hacking at their ankles, set them aflame, poison them, whatever would reduce them to kindling.

She decided to ask Wortox. "Wortox! Do you think you could start…chopping those things if I can distract them? We need them…dead!"

She was getting winded. Wortox seemed to be more in shape, however. "Treeguards are no mean creatures! They ought not be killed if it can be helped!"

Allena felt a twinge of alarm at the insistence. Sparing Webber's mother was one thing. A whole forest of Treeguards? Sparing an enemy was almost always harder than killing one. "I don't think we can! Unless you can…figure out how to get them to…go back to sleep!"

Wortox grabbed his flute and inspected it. "The flute will not work again today! Can you not put them to sleep with your darts?"

"I only have five left…and even those would only put down…one! At most!"

Wortox winced as the Treeguards roared again. "Let me inspect them!" He said. "I will see what is wrong! Just keep their attention on you, if you please!"

Allena nodded. A minute later they were out of the trees.

Wortox peeled off to approach the guards from the side as they emerged. When they burst out of the foliage a moment later, beelining for Allena, he darted towards one and hopped up its leg.

The Treeguard stopped. It rumbled, lifted an arm, and began brushing itself off as though it had a fly crawling on it. When this failed to dislodge Wortox, it made an angry sound and began scratching deeply at its boughs.

From somewhere inside its foliage, Allena heard Wortox yell, "Some assistance, please!"

Allena groaned. There were no less than five of the things following her. Well, four. The last was preoccupied, which was problematic.

She pulled one of her boomerangs out of her waistband and drew back her arm. She took aim, let fly, and watched as it cut a wide arc through the air, curving back towards the Treeguard's head.

It hit, slicing through the needles beside the monster's eyes, and the Treeguard flinched away. The boomerang came back and flew past Allena, who ran after it and scooped it up. The Treeguard's arms fell away as it looked to Allena. Then it roared and began pursuing her again.

Goodie.

The Treeguards were slow, but took large strides. Allena had to average a light run to keep ahead of them on the plain. After another minute Wortox jumped out of the guard's branches and shot away from it like a cat from the heavy hooves of a cow.

He made his way around to her, and when he caught up to her he said, voice pitched with sorrow, "Bad! Bad! Terribly sad. It is a foul sickness that's driving them mad. They are rotting from within!"

"Can they be saved?"

He shook his head. "No, no. Not that one, at any rate." He gestured back to the one he'd just inspected. "It is too far gone, the infection too deep. It will remain mad, even in its sleep."

"I'm sorry. Do you like trees?"

"We have a good relationship," Wortox replied evenly. Then he bleated frustration and said, "That Maxwell is _foul!_ Foul as foul can be! Now, excuse me. I need to go inspect another tree!"

And he took off again.

Allena wondered if they would all be past saving. She noticed that the one Wortox had inspected was the one that Maxwell had touched himself. Maybe the others weren't so badly tainted?

Wait, what did she care? These things were monsters!

She groaned internally. _Was this how Wilson felt when I was trying to save the Spider Queen?_

The Treeguard Wortox had targeted let out a roar that was more like a shriek and slapped its leg. Allena hurtled her boomerang again, and this time it lodged in the thick of the foliage and didn't fly back out. It did get the guard's attention, though. It stopped trying to brush off Wortox.

A minute later he hopped out of the it and ran over to her. He was holding her boomerang. "Another bad one, though not so rotten! Still unsavable. Here is your flying stick!"

He handed her the boomerang and ran to the next one. As he did, Allena saw movement off to her right near the base. Winona had emerged, and was sprinting across the plain towards her.

She turned to meet her halfway and put on a huge burst of speed to get ahead of the mob. They all made sounds of frustration, but they also focused in on her and put on more speed. The next one didn't even notice Wortox climbing up its leg.

She winced as she ran. The pain in her knee was starting up again. She forced herself to ignore it as she neared Winona and slowed to a halt. "The hound mound is down…but now we have another problem!"

Winona looked around with wide eyes. "Yeah, I can see that! Five, to be exact! Where did you find so many?"

"Wilson rounded them up into a grove. Maxwell just woke them up!"

Then Winona said something that surprised her. "You're gonna have to tell me who this Maxwell guy is one of these days!"

Winona didn't know who Maxwell was? Huh. That was unexpected.

But also irrelevant. Treeguards now, Maxwell later. "Will do. Wortox is checking them all out. He wants to save them if possible. But two of them are too far gone! Can you go get some fire darts and an axe? I can keep their attention, but someone will need to kill them!"

Winona looked back at the army and nodded, turning back to the base. Allena, meanwhile, saw that the Treeguards had about caught up. She started running again.

Wortox inspected the last three while Winona got the supplies and Allena kept the Treeguards distracted. Finally, he fell out of the farthest Treeguard, a colossus that had been trailing further and further behind, and made his way up to Allena.

"What's the news?" She gasped. She was low on breath again. "I can't…keep this up forever!"

"They are all infected, but the last one – the big one – is not so deeply sick as the others! I think he is savable!"

Save just one? The biggest, slowest one? She might be able to swing that. "How do we do it?"

"Kill the others," Wortox replied. She could hear the reluctance in his voice. "They will only spread the aura of sickness, and make the large one's recovery less likely."

"Great," Allena said. "But I'm gonna need you and Winona…to do that. I can barely keep ahead of these things…as it is."

Wortox nodded. Winona could be seen with a pack full of supplies, running towards them over the plain. She called to Winona as she got near, "The big one in the back…is off-limits! Set the rest on fire…okay?"

Winona nodded. "Got it. What's Wortox gonna do?"

Wortox chimed in. "I will chippity chop away at their legs! Leave the spindly one to me!"

The fastest one was also the smallest one, and its legs were indeed rather spindly. Wortox could chop through them given enough time, so long as it wasn't on fire. That decided, they set to work.

Winona shot fire darts at the middle three. It took two darts each to set them ablaze, and while she was peppering them Allena had to keep hurtling her boomerangs at them. She lost as many as she caught, and Wortox occasionally had to fetch them for her. Thank goodness she'd brought them, though, inept as she was with them. Her supply of darts was finite, and if she'd had to attack them with her spear…

Wortox whittled away at the legs of the small one while he wasn't fetching her boomerangs. The other three burned in the back, but the fire was slow to catch and slower to eat at them. It wasn't doing nearly as much damage as she'd hoped it would. Mostly they were just smoking heavily. And getting very, very angry. Allena, meanwhile, was nearly reduced to limping. Her knee was getting worse.

The big Treeguard in the back was weaving drunkenly from side to side. It was impossible for Allena to tell what it was doing, since every time she tried to get a good look at it, it seemed to stumble back into a cloud of smoke wafting from the other trees.

Allena had turned to lead them across the plain longways, towards the island, giving the grasslands, flowers, and flowhive a wide berth so their honey operation wouldn't be damaged. The result was that she'd taken them across the entire savannah, and was nearing the bridge between the islands.

She didn't want to go there, for multiple reasons. The island had become intolerable; multiple moons of flooding and drying had turned the plains into a marsh, and tentacles had sprung up across the whole thing. It was a veritable minefield, and though they may be able to help with the Treeguards, they could also kill her in a moment if she wasn't careful. Also, the bridge might not hold the Treeguards, and even if she got one drowned the other four would be stuck on the far side, she on the island, and her friends without her help.

Instead, she turned to loop back through their own swamp, where a small group of frogs was hopping lazily around the ponds.

Suddenly, a loud, agonized groaning sounded behind her. There was a massive _crack!_

Then…

_BOOM!_

Wortox yelped victoriously. The Treeguard he'd been attacking had fallen. Winona shot a couple of fire darts at it as she ran past it, making sure it would stay down.

The three burning Treeguards strode past it angrily, paying it no heed, but the largest one paused as it walked by. It reached briefly for its fallen comrade before drawing back with a shudder. The felled Treeguard was swinging its arms furiously, clearly blinded by pain and anger.

"One down... _tree_ to go," Allena panted. Haha. Somehow, she doubted Wortox would appreciate that one.

But Allena was getting tired. She'd been go-go-going since the first hound attack, and though she didn't have to maintain a hard pace, she'd been jogging for a long time. Her knee was nearly numb, and she could barely manage a breath to speak.

Still, as Wortox ran up to her, she wheezed out, "Good…work."

Wortox looked worried. "Thank you. The bark is very thick, but I managed to get through. You are tired. Perhaps we can taunt the trees whilst you take a short rest?"

She nodded with a harsh groan. If she could stop for just a minute…

Wortox ran for Winona to relay the plan, and a minute later Allena heard the angry bellow of a Treeguard and she turned to see it sporting a new patch of fire on its face. A few more darts followed the first, and two of the Treeguards turned away and began pursing Winona.

Wortox started hacking away at another one, being careful to avoid the fire, and that one also turned away. The only one left following her was the big one.

Wortox looked as though he was going to go after that one with his axe, but to everyone's surprise, he didn't need to. When the other three turned sharply away to follow Winona and Wortox, the huge guard turned as well. It drifted back into the smoke with a low moan.

Something tugged at Allena's intuition. _Smoke. Why smoke? Why is that important?_

She wasn't being pursued anymore, so she figured she could take the time to rest and think about it. She collapsed.

She was breathing heavily, and the acrid smoke stung her throat. Her knee was throbbing horribly, She crawled over to a pond and began shoveling water onto her head and into her mouth, cooling off and hydrating herself as she watched the Treeguards pursue her friends.

Now that she got the chance to pay closer attention, the giant Treeguard's movements seemed less drunk than she'd though. It wasn't just weaving aimlessly back and forth. It was staying in the smoke. Every time the smoke thinned where it was walking, it moved to catch a new draft from one of its burning brothers. Why?

Then she recalled the appearance of the treeguard Maxwell had touched. Like the Varg, it had been swarming with insects, like it was rotting alive.

What was one of the best ways to kill or sedate insects?

Smoke them.

If the insects were the source of the infection, then maybe…

Her thoughts ground to a halt as the temperature dropped violently. She shivered, and as she watched Winona and Wortox both paused. Maxwell had risen out of the ground ahead of them, and now the Treeguards were closing.

No. Oh, no. He hadn't bound them there, had he? He wasn't going to just _kill_ them, surely?

But as she watched, she heard a voice echo across the clearing, half in her head and half out.

_Not THEM, you idiots! The girl! Take the girl!_

The Treeguards stopped before they reached Winona and Wortox. They turned around to look back to her. Maxwell snapped his fingers, and the Treeguards all roared and put on a burst of speed.

She groaned and forced herself to her feet. She couldn't keep this up. She couldn't.

The Treeguards were approaching. With Winona and Wortox being safely ignored, the two renewed their assault with furor. Darts flew, fire and poison both, and Wortox hacked away. Still, for all their effort they could only do so much. By the time the Treeguards reached Allena again, they were only maddened by the assaults. Not crippled.

She took off again, not sure how much longer she would last. She couldn't help them fight, not at this point, but the fire wasn't doing enough damage and Wortox could only chop so fast. The bark was just too thick.

Winona focused all her attacks on a single Treeguard, filling it with the rest of the fire darts. It was now brightly ablaze, and even the other Treeguards were keeping their distance from it. The burning guard let out a wail of pain…and then it juked for one of the ponds.

It was trying to put itself out, but that was a tough order. It was too big to get into any pond as it was, so it had to bring its feet together to get into one of the pools. It did, though, and it sank all the way up to its shoulders.

It hissed as it sank, almost as if in relief, and steam poured out of the pond. Then the Treeguard forced itself out of the little green pool.

It started off towards her, but didn't make it five feet before frogs started pouring out of the pond, croaking in thunderous fury.

It had stepped in the wrong pond. Allena didn't expect that the frogs would be willing to face these things, but as she watched, the frogs mobbed the Treeguard, and she could see their sticky tongues ripping huge chunks of bark off the thing with every lash of the tongue, revealing the smooth wood underneath.

Wortox yodeled gleefully, waited for the frogs to clear off the bark, then jumped forward and began hacking at the unarmored limb.

The Treeguard rumbled, but under Maxwell's instruction could do nothing as the little red imp went to town with his halberd. He swung it like a crazed lumberjack. _Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!_

Without its bark it went down thrice as quickly, and Allena made a sharp turn for the next frog pond.

She needed to act fast. She wasn't going to be able to run much longer. She lured her remaining pursuers through groups of frogs, dodging tongues as she did so, and after a few more minutes one of the Treeguards stepped on one of them, squishing it flat with a revolting squelching sound.

The frogs swarmed it. The bark was ripped away. Wortox started chopping. Allena had a new group of frogs on the last one before he could even finish.

Winona could do nothing more as the last Treeguard began having its bark ripped off by an angry storm of toads, so she ran up to Allena. "You okay?"

Allena couldn't speak. She could barely stay upright. She shook her head.

Winona put a hand on her shoulder. It was firm and strong. "Just a little bit more. We're knocking that last one out, right?"

Allena nodded.

"Okay. Don't worry about him. Give the darts to me."

Allena passed her the darts.

At this point she was staggering forward almost blindly, all her weight on one leg, barely able to keep herself upright. At long last she heard the _BOOM_ as one Treeguard hit the ground, then the _BOOM_ of the fourth.

She stopped. She turned around. They were in the middle of the field now, just outside of the marsh, and Winona was now shooting at the final Treeguard.

As the massive being staggered after her, it occurred to Allena that it looked every bit as tired and worn down as she was.

Winona aimed for the trunk. One sleeping dart lodged in its bark, then another. Wortox yelled, "Wait! It is best to hit it where the bark is thin – allow me!"

Allena was limping slowly backwards. Wortox ran up and grabbed the darts from Winona, shunned the blowgun, and leaped into the lowest branches of their biggest foe.

Allena heard him coughing. The Treeguard was nearly grey from the ashes of its fallen friends, and she figured Wortox must have been finding it as hard to breath as she was.

The Treeguard grunted as Wortox began lodging the darts in the thin bark near its head. After a minute, it slowed.

After another minute, it stopped.

It was swaying back and forth. It looked confused. But as Allena looked up at its face, she could see that there were no more insects crawling through it. Wortox dropped out of the foliage, and the Treeguard looked down at him.

Allena reached into her backpack. She pulled out the pinecone she'd grabbed earlier, and dropped to her knees. Then she scraped a hole into the earth, dropped the pinecone in, and covered it.

The Treeguard sighed.

Its arms came back together, as did its legs. The darkness in its upper boughs diminished as its eyes closed. It stilled. Finally, it was asleep.

Wortox came to stand beside her. She asked him, "Will it be okay?"

He nodded. "Yes. I think so. Now, perhaps you should get off your feet! You look beat. I'll find you a seat, and—"

Allena slumped over onto her side. She was unconscious before Wortox could finish his sentence.


	38. Nine o'clock at Midnight

Wilson whistled as he walked, an uncharacteristically cheerful expression. Chester hopped heavily at his right, his belly full of the spoils of their hunt, and Wolfgang strolled along to his left. He was fairly exhausted – they all were – but the energy had been well-spent. Although he'd simply listed their endeavor that day as 'hunting,' that hardly described the exact nature of their trip.

He and Wolfgang had not only taken down a beefalo – and with relative ease, at that – they'd also gone the extra mile to snag a couple of tallbirds, and Wilson had shot half a dozen crows along the way. In addition to that, they two had stopped by a pond at lunch and fished, and gathered up a whole bushel of the herbs that had been all but depleted over the winter. All in preparation for that evening.  
He wanted to get back soon so they could start the cooking, though he knew dinner would likely be late, regardless. Still, a midnight feast was better than no feast at all.

He and Wolfgang had agreed that a celebration was in order. What with Allena's rescue, Wes's return, and Winona's arrival, they had much to celebrate. Wolfgang wanted to give a hearty welcome to their new guest, and Wilson wanted to do something extravagant for Allena. His love.

The words still felt a bit foreign to him. Yes, he'd been in relationships before, but none before had even come close to what he had with her. She was unlike anything he'd ever seen. She was willing and able to stand beside him as an equal, despite all their differences. She was his perfect complement. She compensated for his weaknesses, just as he compensated for hers.

In the early days he'd regarded her as being fairly dependent upon him for her survival. She hadn't the strength to fell trees, to hunt big game, to build sturdy structures; she'd lacked the experience to build tools and weapons, to shelter herself adequately, to store food for the oncoming winter. He hadn't seen her as a burden, but rather as an opportunity to truly test himself against these wilds. Mere survival was one thing. Providing for another? That was a greater challenge by far.

He still recalled finding her, wounded and weak, in that faint circle of light the night the shadow had nearly taken her. He'd never felt so protective of a living thing in his life. He'd scooped her up without thought, brought her to his base, tended to her injury, chattering to her all the while in an attempt to hide his sickening fear that he would lose the first decent person he had come across in that vile wilderness. He'd known that he was sharing this world with someone of integrity the moment he'd read the note she'd left with the borrowed supplies and cordial tribute.

_Sorry about stealing your stuff. It won't happen again. Promise._

_Allena Jones_

She'd seemed terribly helpless, lying there in the firelight. Terribly small, slumped on his medical bench. Terribly fragile, walking that new island with him. How she'd shocked him when she'd leapt onto the back of the tiger-spider, when by all rights she should have turned and fled! Who'd ever heard of a woman who wasn't afraid of spiders, let alone spiders the size of sheepdogs?

And then her insistence that she wouldn't be a burden to him, her promise to work hard to help improve their lives here. He'd been so dismissive of the comment at the time. It had taken weeks – months – for him to begin to realize the value of that promise.

It wasn't until he'd nearly lost her that he'd fully understood how much he'd come to rely on her.

He worked harder when he was working for her. He had more energy, more motivation. There may well have been double the hours in each day with her around, not even counting all that she contributed to their supply stores, and every accomplishment was twice as satisfying knowing that she would appreciate it. Then the hounds had attacked, and he'd failed to protect her.

He'd always fostered some degree of doubt in himself. He wasn't nearly as confident as he let on to the world around him. But never, in all his days, had he felt like such a failure as on that day. Feeling her grow colder and colder in spite of all his efforts to keep her warm; watching her slip away in defiance of all his stock and ability; when he'd taken her hand in his and felt no pulse, he'd questioned the very point of his existence.

_What is the use of all your genius if you cannot keep one girl alive?_

Then she'd come back to him. His strong, willful Allena had come back to him. He'd lost her again not long after, when he'd driven her out with his riduculous pique after Christmas, and again she'd returned against all odds.

Then, once more she'd been taken, this time by Krampus. And, once more, she'd come back to him. Perhaps she always would. He aimed to be worthy of that devotion.

Hence the enormous pile of fresh meat in his backpack. If a man couldn't bring his love home a big pile of fresh meat every now and then in addition to regularly inventing life-saving devices…why, what was he good for?

"You know, for brainy little man, you are surprisingly good with spear. You are fine hunter. Dare I say…mighty hunter!"

He and Wolfgang had been getting along far better since Allena's disappearance and subsequent return. They'd bonded the previous night over their mutual revulsion of giant, monstrous spiders, and even further today over their hunt. "Why, thank you. I must say, your skill with that club is quite astounding. I've never seen a beefalo go down so quickly."

"Thanking you."

Chester barked, and Wilson patted his eyebone, which was stuck in his belt. "Yes, Chester, you've been excellent as well."

"Little chest-dog can carry much in his belly. Is good boy."

Chester barked again, clearly happy with the praise.

"So," Wilson said as they walked through the small, grassy area he recognized as Chester's clearing. "May I ask what you intend to do when we finally get back home? _Home_ home, I mean. Not simply back to base."

Wolfgang hummed. His voice was deep and smooth, and reminded Wilson of a tuba. "Wolfgang's circus is gone, am sure, and Allena says that this profession is harder to pursue nowadays. She tells me that the Ringling Brother's Circus managed to pull itself out of bankruptcy and had corner of market on circuses for many years."

"Why not apply to join the Ringling Brothers? I'm sure they could use someone of your great skill."

Wolfgang spat. "Bah! Ringling Brothers! Wolfgang would not gift them with his mightiness if they begged! Good-for-nothings, they were!"

Wilson pulled out his water flask and sloshed it around. He was almost out, but they were nearly home. He took the last swig and said, "I take it you don't care for the Ringling Brothers?"

"Feh! Ringling _Bastards_ once said Wolfgang's mighty circus would bore children to tears! Called ringmaster a chump! Got into all the newspapers, terrible press!"

Wilson made a sympathetic sound. When one worked in a circus, pride was undoubtedly a valuable commodity, and nothing could damage pride quite like bad press. How well he knew.

"But Wolfgang has last laugh, now. Allena says Ringling Brothers closed circus three years ago! Ha! Now circus market goes to something called Cirque de Solei. Allena says they have very, very high standards. Showed me part of one show on her tiny little telephone."

"Ah, yes, her videos. Did it look like something you might apply for?"

Wolfgang actually looked slightly humbled. "Eh, Solei circus is probably not for Wolfgang. Must say…was very, very impressive."

Wilson nodded. No doubt standards were higher in all industries back home, the way American advancement went. "Any ideas for a new profession, then?"

"Allena says my woodworking is highly skillful. Says I will not make fortune with it, but can likely start small business, do well if I work hard, get lucky break or two. She says she will help me will all the paperworkings and licenses and such."

Wilson's mouth twitched up in a smile. "Yes, that sounds like Allena. Always looking to the future."

"And happy to help friends," Wolfgang added.

"And happy to help friends," Wilson agreed.

The treeline ended just ahead of them. They would be coming in view of the base momentarily. He hoped there wouldn't be smoke coming up from the firepit. If they'd already gotten started on dinner, the feast would have to wait until tomorrow. Of course, perhaps that would be just as well. The cooking would take a long time.

As they neared the edge of the forest, Wolfgang said thoughtfully, "Allena says Wes could likely be YouTube star with his miming. Remind me what the YouTube is?"

"It's a place where people put videos like the one she showed you on that Circe de Solei," Wilson answered confidently. He was quite proud of how well he was coming to understand the modern world, even before encountering it. "It is on the interweb. You record yourself doing something, and then you take the video and put it _on_ the YouTube, and—"

He paused as he came in sight of the base. In front of it were a dozen small black mounds, and as his gaze traveled to the rest of the savannah, he saw enormous piles of smoking wood scattered across the plain, as well as one colossal pine tree in the middle of the clearing where no pine tree ought to have stood.

Hounds. Treeguards.

Allena.

He dropped the pack, threw Chester's eyebone on the ground beside it, and ran for the base. Allena. Allena. Wes. Winona. _Allena._

Wolfgang growled low behind him, and there was a thump as he, too, threw down his bag. They both made for the base, drawing their spears as they ran. Chester barked, but could not follow.

As they neared the base Wilson slowed, listening closely for the sounds of anything moving nearby, but he heard nothing. The remains of hounds and spent traps were scattered around the clearing just outside, and there was a large divot in the ground where it looked like an explosion had gone off. Dear Lord, what had happened here? What had Maxwell sent against them?

Equal parts fury and dread pulsed inside him as he strode towards the entrance. Maxwell. This had to have been Maxwell. And if anything had happened to Allena—

He crept silently through the entrance, spear held out in front of him, eyes wild and wide. He looked around the base…and shook with relief.

It was clean and unruined. It looked as though nothing had made it inside. What was more, Wes was sleeping on a travel mattress, seemingly uninjured and definitely alive, and Winona was…where?

Wilson turned as he saw movement off to the side. He hadn't heard her, but it seemed that the new arrival was washing up behind the curtain he'd made so Allena could have some privacy while basin-bathing.

He blushed furiously as she emerged, topless. Naturally, she hadn't heard him and Wolfgang come in, and when she saw them she went, "Woah!" and covered her chest.

Wilson looked away, and saw Wolfgang do the same. "Sorry!" He said gruffly. "Very sorry!"

Wilson heard Winona snort derisively, then she disappeared behind the curtain again. She came out a moment later, fully clothed. "It's fine. Didn't hear you guys come in. Back from your hunting trip?"

Wolfgang opened his mouth to reply, but Wilson cut him off. "Where is Allena?"

Winona held up a hand in a calming motion. "She's fine. She's just taking a nap in the tent."

She heard Wolfgang start asking questions, but he had no mind to spare for them just then. He dashed for the tent and tossed back the flap.

He nearly collapsed with relief. She was curled up in their joint sleeping bag, breathing deeply, her dark brown hair splayed out behind her and full of pine needles.

He knelt beside her and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "Allena?" He said softly. "Allena, my love, are you alright?"

Her eyelid twitched just slightly, and she let out a quiet grumble.

Her hand was just outside the lip of the bag, and he took it in his and began gently rubbing circles into her palm. "Allena? I'm back from my hunt. Are you alright? Allena?"

At last she opened one eye. She yawned deeply and looked up at him. "…ilsuhn? Eh…allo…"

_Wilson? Eh, hello…_

He squeezed her hand slightly and said, "Are you alright, my love? You aren't injured, are you?"

She groaned and closed her eyes again. "No. Tired. Sleep…"

And she yawned heavily and relaxed into slumber again. He felt her squeeze his hand back before she did, though, and he finally allowed himself to relax.

He was momentarily tempted to slip into the bag with her, hold her close, and take a long nap himself – he'd been finding it oddly difficult to get out of bed in the mornings, ever since they'd taken to sharing a sleeping bag – but he shook himself. There were more important things to worry about than…naps.

He placed her hand under one of the blankets so it wouldn't get cold, kissed her forehead, and departed.

Winona and Wolfgang were standing beside the firepit, talking. Her arms were crossed, and she looked irritated. She saw him emerging from the tent and said, "See? I told you she was okay. Now don't bug her again. She's tired."

Wilson nodded. It wasn't often he saw Allena so exhausted. "Forgive me for being so brusque upon my arrival. Please, what happened while we were away?"

Her gaze was hard, but only for another moment. She relaxed and let her irritation drop along with her crossed arms. "Allena and I were gathering sticks earlier, talking about family, and she suddenly took off for the base. I followed her after a couple of minutes, and just before I got back there was this flash of weird lightning. Then the hounds started howling. When I got here, Wes was unconscious with a couple of sleep darts in his leg, Allena was standing there like she'd seen a ghost—"

"Maxwell?" Wilson said tensely.

Winona gave him an odd look but said, "Yeah...Maxwell. Anyways, she put out all of the traps and we went out to deal with the hounds."

Wolfgang nodded. It seemed like that was as far as she'd gotten in the story with him, because he said, "And what is happening next?"

Winona got a fierce look in her eye, and Wilson could tell they were in for a story. He held up a finger and said, "Perhaps the rest could wait just a moment. Wolfgang and I dropped our packs outside in our haste to see the base safe, and it may be prudent to fetch them in before we start on a long tale."

Winona deflated a bit, but assented. "Yeah, I guess so. You guys bag anything good?"

"We've brought back quite a haul," Wilson began, but before he could finish a voice sounded from outside the base.

"Tasty meats, many treats! Who would leave such a bounty lying about?"

Wolfgang and Wilson both turned to watch as the crimson, impish creature came into the base carrying both of their packs, one in each hand. Chester, whose eyebone was now lodged in one of the pockets, followed closely behind him. "Ah, Allena's Wilson has returned! As well as—"

Wolfgang, upon seeing the new arrival, drew one leg up like a housewife shying from a mouse and let out a loud, piercing shriek.

Everyone clapped their hands to the ears and Wilson reached out to pat Wolfgang on the shoulder. "Wolfgang! It is quite alright! He's not an enemy!"

"Damn right he isn't an enemy, now shut the hell up!" Winona snapped.

Wolfgang stopped abruptly, but still looked at Wortox with some trepidation. "Is little Krampus!"

Wortox smiled shakily. "I am Wortox. Allena's friend. Perhaps she mentioned me to you?"

Then Wolfgang narrowed his eyes at the imp. "Wait. You are the creature who gobbles up Krampus and saves Allena?"

Wortox nodded. "That is me."

Wolfgang stared at him for a long moment. "Wolfgang thought you would be…bigger."

Wortox's ear twitched. He said nothing.

Wilson coughed awkwardly. "Yes, well, at any rate, it's good to see you again, Wortox. Thank you for bringing back our bags."

Wortox nodded and set them down. "I am happy to help, my friend. Though I hope the big man's shriek did not wake Allena. She had earned a good, long nap."

Wolfgang blushed. "Eh, maybe Wolfgang overreacts. Just a little. Now, Winona goes on with story…?"

Winona sighed deeply. She looked at Wilson and Wortox sardonically, as though asking them permission.

Wilson gestured for her to go on. Wortox sat down cross-legged between the meat bags and reached for Chester as though to scratch him between the horns. He pulled back at the last moment, wincing, and settled his hand in his lap. The chest-dog didn't seem to notice, and looked quite at ease beside him. Wilson sat down as Winona continued her story.

"Alright," she said, also taking a seat. "So Allena sets all of her traps, right? She didn't even know what some of them did, I guess they were from Krampus's cave, but man did they do a lot! She gave me one of those blowguns and we started shooting the hounds as they got close. There were eight of them, two red and six black—"

Wilson's pulse jumped up a notch. Eight hounds. Two red ones. Allena had never even _seen_ red hounds. Had they truly fended off such an attack on their own?

"—but man, when that red hound hit the little wicker trap, you should have seen it! The spiky ones were full of bees, and the weird-shaped one was an alarm that brought Wortox runnin', but the wicker one? It was full of some kind of crazy slime that blew up the second they stepped on it! Wiped the whole pack out, BAM!"

So that explained the explosion. Wilson was glad. If Maxwell had found some combustible monster to throw at them…

Winona went on over the next few minutes to tell them about the subsequent wave of hounds, and how Allena had taken it upon herself to hold three of them at bay simultaneously in order to allow Winona to attack them without being maimed. His heart swelled with equal parts pride and fear. Her courage was, as normal, unparalleled, but he shuddered to imagine his Allena swarmed by three hounds at once.

When she got to the part about Wortox saving Allena from the red hound, Wilson stood up and walked over to the imp, thrusting out both hands for a handshake.

Upon seeing his extended hands, however, Wortox's eyes widened and he rolled away in a backward somersault, coming up and putting his hands out placatingly. "No hands!"

Wilson stopped, and Winona said, "Oh, yeah. Wortox doesn't do handshakes. Or hands up. Or anything with hands, really. Apparently they're cursed, or something?"

Wilson blinked, recalling what Allena had said about him being able to steal souls. He stepped back and said, "Ah, right. My apologies. Still, I thank you for saving Allena once again. My gratitude knows no bounds."

He bowed deeply in lieu of a handshake, and Wortox relaxed. "No thanks are required. I am always happy to help a friend."

Winona continued her story, recounting her shock when she'd seen a whopping five Treeguards chasing after Allena. "Maybe you could explain how that happened, Wortox?"

Wortox nodded. "After we dispersed the hound mound, that dastardly devil, Maxwell, appeared! He cursed the trees to seethe and rot, and with a harrowing wail, each was hot on our trail! I sought to see if they might be saved – the Treegaurds are respectable creatures, most of the time – but alas, all but one had succumbed to Maxwell's vile will. Four Treeguards were we forced to kill. The last we managed to sedate, and spared it, therefore, from a sorrowful fate."

Everyone was staring at Wortox as he finished, and Wolfgang asked, "Do rhyming words just come out of mouth naturally, or does little imp take time to make them up?"

Wilson waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind that. So you say that you, Winona, and Allena killed four Treeguards and more than a dozen hounds whilst Wolfgang and I were away?"

Wortox and Winona both nodded. "That about sums it up," she said.

Wilson shook his head wonderingly. "My goodness. Fate smiled upon us the days Allena and Wes found the two of you."

Winona was about to say something, but her eyes darted past Wilson to something behind him. She then exclaimed, "Well, speak of the devil! I was wondering if those sedatives were ever going to wear off."

They all turned to see Wes sitting up shakily on his straw mat, and Winona walked over and hunkered down next to him. "Hey, bud. How ya feeling?"

Wes looked at her groggily, head wavering drunkenly on his shoulders, but he gave Winona a trembling thumbs-up as his eyes struggled to focus on her face. A piece of paper fell out of his hand and he picked it up and looked at it.

He looked confused. His expression deepened to worry, and he looked around the camp before looking to Winona with a questioning expression.

Winona wrinkled her nose and asked, "Looking for Allena?"

He nodded.

"She's alright. Takin' a nap. Got a helluva story for you."

Wilson decided to intervein. Tired though he was, there was yet more to celebrate that evening, and he intended to see everyone's great efforts rewarded. "Say, Wes, you're good at cooking. Perhaps they could relay the story to you whilst you help me whip up some dinner?"

* * *

When Allena woke it was well past sunset. Evidently it wasn't too late, though, because she could hear the sounds of activity outside the tent.

She sat up. A large part of her wanted to go back to bed, but her stomach was hollow. She wouldn't be able to get back to sleep without eating something first.

She stretched her arms above her head and crawled out of the sleeping bag, yawning widely. As she did she heard a voice – Winona's – say, "Hey, I think she's awake."

"Finally!" Came Wolfgang's deep reply. "Was thinking we did all this cooking for nothing."

 _"We_ did all this cooking? Wes and I did all the work, thank you very much!"

"Eh, Wolfgang helped some."

"Wolfgang sat whittling away at his newest chair for four hours while I butchered beefalo and Wes manned the crock pot."

Allena sniffed deeply, and her mouth started watering at once. Something out there smelled good.

She crawled out of the tent and stood up, looking around blearily. Everyone was sitting around the fire, eating. Wilson turned to her and smiled, then pointed at the table. "Good to see you up, my love. If you're hungry, there's plenty left on the table. It should all still be hot."

She looked over to the main serving table and her jaw about hit the floor. There was a big beefalo cut, a platter of roasted birds, some fried tallbird, a pot of stew, a big bowl of steamed and buttered carrots, a plate of rolls…

"Woah," she said. "What's the occasion?"

Wortox, who had just finished slurping down a big bowl of stew, answered. "As of late, there is much to celebrate! New friends come, old ones returned, foes vanquished, allies saved – a feast seemed quite appropriate!"

"And we made sure to invite everyone," Wilson added, nodding off to Allena's left.

She heard a squeal of delight and turned just in time to see a mass of black bearing down on her before she was enveloped in a hug. "Allena is awake! Allena is awake!"

"Webber!" She laughed, hugging him back. "When did you get here?"

"Wortox ran and grabbed him," Winona said. "He says he's not much of a cook, so he was happy to have something else he could do."

Now, that was definitely a lie. Wortox had made a variety of delicious dishes for her while she'd been imprisoned by Krampus. But as she gave him a questioning look, he held up his hands with an apologetic shrug. They were flickering slightly red.

Right. Working in the close quarters of a kitchen would probably have been a bit hazardous for all of them, what with the whole soul-stealing thing.

As Webber took a seat between Winona and Wolfgang (to Wolfgang's obvious discomfort), Allena went over to the table and dished herself up a little of everything. She hadn't eaten since that morning, and with all that had happened earlier she was running on empty. There was also a pitcher of tea in a shallow dish surrounded by blue gems. She poured herself a cup and took a sip – it was ice cold.

"Iced tea," she said, taking another long draught. "This is great."

She took her cup and plate over to the fire. As she sat down, she winced. Her knee was still bad. She would put some spider salve on it before bed. Wilson scooched a little bit closer to her as she settled, and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Did you and Wolfgang catch all of this?"

He nodded, and Wolfgang said, "We are mighty hunters, yes? Bring back much food for our little friends!"

He flexed impressively, and Winona snorted. "Isn't it supposed to be us woman-folk who do the cooking while the _men_ defend the homestead?"

Wolfgang pouted, but everyone else laughed, including Allena. Man, Wilson must have gotten quite a shock when he'd come back to base earlier. "Did Winona and Wortox fill you guys in on what happened?"

Wilson nodded. "Yes, quite the riveting tale. My armor served you well again, my love?"

"It worked perfectly. Saved both of our lives."

Wilson seemed pleased, but his smile faltered a bit as worry flashed in his eyes. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he shook his head. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Have you tried the stew yet? It's one of Wes's special recipes."

She took a taste and groaned with delight. "This is fantastic, Wes. You're going to have to show me how to make this one sometime."

Wes nodded, but he wasn't quite smiling. While Wilson seemed intent on letting his concerns pass for the evening, Wes wasn't as adept at concealing his emotions. His brows were furrowed in worry, and as she looked at him he began miming.

First he made a writing gesture, then he pointed at her, then off into the distance – a gesture that referred to someone not present – then he imitated a handshake, and tilted his head questioningly.

She paused with her next spoonful halfway to her mouth. The writing, the handshake…he was asking her about a deal. And she bet she knew which absent person he was referring to. She'd hoped he hadn't overheard what Maxwell had said about the bargain, but it seemed he had.

She didn't want to talk about that. She changed the subject. "This is all really great." She wiped her lips, even though there wasn't any food on them. "Feels like Christmas again already."

Winona got a weird look on her face and said, "Hey, speaking of which; did anyone else get a surprise visit from Santa around midwinter, dropping off a plate of food? Because I woke up in the middle of the night one night to the sound of someone rooting around my camp, and when I went out to see what it was I found a steaming plate of food with a note that said, 'Merry Christmas' next to it."

Wolfgang nodded. "Yes, was very strange! Turkey, carrots, gravy, rolls, berry-sauce – reminded Wolfgang of Christmas with family! Was very nice surprise!"

"Webber got some, too! Was very tasty!"

Wes nodded, but was now looking irritated, and he tried to mime his question to Allena again. She pointedly looked away from him, as she herself was already distracted. She noticed him stomp his foot out of the corner of her eye.

Wilson chuckled. "Why, Allena, it looks as though Maxwell really did deliver all of your Christmas platters."

Winona looked at her in surprise. _"You_ sent out all that food?"

She nodded. "We decided to have a feast for Christmas. I, uh…kind of invited Maxwell to join us."

Wolfgang immediately made a disgusted noise. "Invite _Maxwell_ for Christmas? Next year, just invite Spider Queen, why don't you? Or big tree-monster, eh?"

"Mama long-legs for Christmas! Mama long-legs for Christmas!"

Wilson twiddled him thumbs and whistled innocently, clearly in agreement with Wolfgang's assessment, and Allena rolled her eyes at him. "Anyways, after he finished and was getting ready to leave, I whipped up six plates of food and asked him to deliver them to the other people in the Constant. I wasn't sure if he would, but I'm glad to hear he actually did."

"I sure appreciated it," Winona said. "But if you don't mind my asking, who is Maxwell?"

Everyone looked at her, and Allena suddenly recalled the circumstances in which she'd met Maxwell that day in the first place. "Uh, I'll answer that question, but first I have something to show you."

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, flipped to the picture of the shadow woman, and passed it to Winona. "Does she look familiar to you?"

Winona took the phone, looked down at it, and her expression turned stony. She was silent for several moments, then she said, "Yeah. That's my sister. Charlie."

Allena swallowed heavily and said, "I took that picture one night when I got caught out after dark without a light. My phone has a camera with flash on it, so I was able to snap that as I was running from the…" she stuttered a bit. "…m-monster that haunts the darkness out here."

Winona's eye twitched. She said, "You're saying that _my sister_ is the thing that's nearly killed me half a dozen times?"

Wilson and Wolfgang both looked away, mildly distressed expressions on their faces. Wes looked at her with wide, sad eyes, and reached for her hand. Winona moved it away and clenched her fist, and Wes drew back with a wince.

Allena wasn't sure what to say, but after a moment, Winona frowned and said, "It's seemed to me that every time that thing has hunted me, I've just barely been able to get away. Like it pulled back at the last second to give me another chance to get to a light."

"Has it ever actually hit you?" Wilson asked.

Winona scowled and pulled up her sleeve. There was a scar on her upper arm, only about two inches long and very thin.

Allena said, "That's actually not too bad. This is what I got the first time I ran into her." She turned around, brushed her hair to the side, and pulled her shirt up over her head so everyone could see her shoulder. She'd checked out the scar herself a couple of times using her signaling mirror, and it wasn't pretty. About a foot long, a couple centimeters wide at its thickest, extending from the top of her shoulder down her ribcage.

She pulled her shirt back into place and sat back down. "It seems like maybe she's been going easy on you."

Winona looked angry at that for a moment, then her expression lapsed into confusion. Wilson added carefully, "I've always assumed that the thing in the shadows was simply another one of Maxwell's monsters, but lately it's seemed that there is a fair bit more going on. Perhaps Allena could explain what she knows? Actually," he set his plate aside and settled more comfortably on his seat. "Perhaps it would be a good time to go over everything we know about the powers and plays at work here in the Constant – our own included."

Everyone looked at him intently, but he nodded to Allena. Looked like he was leaving it up to her.

She pursed her lips. Where to start?

Well, at the beginning was probably best. She settled down for the story.

* * *

"I was working at a museum in my hometown, the Foxcroft-Dover Museum of Local History," she began. "It had a few interesting exhibits, including a century-old device found in the laboratory of an enigmatic inventor who lived in an old manor in the woods about a century ago. Wilson."

Wilson nodded.

"I was cleaning it one night when the radio that was found with it started talking to me."

Winona cut in, her tone one of interest. "Out of curiosity, was it a Voxola radio?"

Wilson nodded. "Voxola PR-76. I still recall buying it in the local pawn shop – it was a rare find."

"Those are the kinds I was making in the factory before I was brought here," Winona said, surprised. "I remember the boss-man got a few letters complaining about hearing weird voices from the dang things, thought it was just receiver troubles…"

They were all quiet for a long moment, but no one was quite sure what to do with the information, so Allena continued.

"The man on the radio told me that he was Wilson, the inventor of the device, and that it was a gateway between worlds that had malfunctioned and trapped him in some strange wilderness. He begged me to fix the device so he could get back. Turned out the voice belonged to Maxwell." Allena sighed. "Well, I fell for it. I went home, packed up a whole bunch of supplies and tools, went back that night and fixed it. I was pulled through, and when I woke up it was to Maxwell standing over me telling me to find some food and shelter before it got dark."

Wolfgang snorted. "That is how I was welcomed, too. And Wes, I think?"

Wes nodded. Wilson added, "Yes, me as well."

"And Webber."

Webber had been sitting back, listening contentedly, but now his fanged maw was turned down in a passive frown. Allena went on.

"At first I roughed it on my own, because I was pretty much terrified of Wilson."

Wilson rubbed his jaw awkwardly and looked down at the ground. She decided not to elaborate on exactly why she'd been so scared of him. "But one night I got stuck away from my camp until it got dark. I was barely able to make it back, running across the plain snapping pictures, and Wilson saw the flashes of light. He found me bleeding by my campfire, and carried me back here and treated my injuries. He saved my life." She patted her shoulder, where the scar was.

At this Wilson looked a bit mollified. He waved a hand and said airily, "It was nothing so serious. You would have been fine, I'm sure."

Allena didn't dignify that with a response. "Shortly after that, I remembered something I had brought with me. You see, when I was getting ready to fix the gateway I snagged the blueprints for the device under the assumption that I might need them. I didn't, but now we have the blueprints for it. Wilson is going to build it over the next few months, and hopefully it will allow us to get home."

Winona's mouth flopped open, Wes slapped his cheeks comically, and Webber squeaked, "Way home?!"

They'd said that they had a decent plan for getting home, but they hadn't actually mentioned the blueprint until then. They figured they would bring it up only when they were really ready to start building it. The less they talked it up, the less likely it would be that Maxwell would overhear their plans.

Allena nodded. "Way home. We hope. So for a while things were pretty normal. But one day while I was doing laundry in one of the ponds, Maxwell showed up. He offered me a cup of tea, and even though I was pretty freaked out about him, I figured it might be smart to treat him cordially. So I took him up on the offer."

Wolfgang wrinkled his nose in further disgust, and Webber cocked his head curiously. "You had tea with bad man? Mama used to have tea parties, but not with bad people."

Allena nodded. "I thought we might stand a better chance of getting out if I didn't pi—uh, upset him," she said with a glance at Webber. "But while I was talking, he got it into his head to do some…" she trailed off.

"Spring cleaning," Wilson provided.

Allena nodded. She'd been afraid of asking this question for a while, since she didn't really want to know the answer. "I thought he might have sent his big hound, the Varg, after everyone. Anyone encounter it?"

Winona said, "Oh, yup. That thing? Bleh. Only reason I survived that was because I was near the caves at the time, and it couldn't fit in the entrance."

"Ha! Is understandable that little woman would hide," Wolfgang boasted, and the look Winona shot him could have cowed the Deerclops. He didn't notice it. "Wolfgang, however, had mighty battle with the beast, wounded it greatly! Had to walk with limp after running away! Put out one of its great white eyes!"

Wilson let out a sardonic laugh. "It didn't have a limp when we met it. Or a scar. Also, its eyes were _red."_

Winona crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Wolfgang, who flushed solidly pink. He glanced around the fire to see everyone looking at him expectantly, and he let out a great sigh. "Bah, fine then. Wolfgang did not fight big dog. Ran up tree and hid until it was gone."

He looked terribly deflated, and Allena laughed lightly. Even Winona looked appeased. "Don't worry, Wolfgang. We couldn't even scratch the thing. I had to trick it into bashing into a Treeguard to get it off my back. The whole grove took it down."

Wolfgang still looked embarrassed, but said, "Eh? So big dog is dead? This is good. Was, just maybe, a bit more mighty than Wolfgang."

Wilson nodded. "It tore Chesterfield in half, you know. Thankfully, our little friend is somewhat immortal. Aren't you, boy?"

Chester, who was curled up next to a snoozing Glommer a short ways away from the firepit, snored loudly in non-response.

Allena went on. "So then Maxwell dropped by around Christmas, told us that his Varg hadn't killed anyone, and mentioned another project he was working on. About a month later, the Deerclops showed up."

Winona scowled. "Yup. That thing wrecked my camp."

Allena's heart dropped. It looked like her attempt at diplomacy did have at least one casualty. "I'm sorry."

Winona picked a sliver of meat out of her teeth and tossed it in the fire. "Why? Isn't your fault that Maxwell guy is such a nutjob."

"I'm the one who got him thinking about spring cleaning."

"He probably would have done it eventually, even if you hadn't."

Allena was about to go on, but Winona raised a hand. "Look," she said firmly. "You didn't do anything wrong. No one got killed. Everything worked out for the best. So why don't we move along, eh? What happened next?"

Allena relaxed, relieved that Winona didn't blame her for the Deerclops. She still blamed herself a bit, but she supposed she could let it slide. "Okay, well, after we killed the Deerclops with Webber's help, Maxwell showed up. He was furious with Webber for helping us, and he almost killed him. I managed to ward him off, but ever since then Webber hasn't been able to survive in the darkness. The shadow-thing used to ignore him, but now it goes after him just like us."

Webber nodded concurrence. "Now we are good friends with Allena and Wilson, and also Wes and Wolfman. And Winona, because she helped save our mama!"

Winona reached over and patted him solidly on the shoulder. "Atta kid. So, what happened then?"

"Around the start of spring we went on our first expedition. We found Wes, then went back to the Thornwood Base, and that's where I met Maxwell next." Her skin crawled at the memory, and she crossed her arms and shrugged her shoulder along her neck. "He was really just putting on a big intimidation show, but then I mentioned the shadow-woman to him, and he flipped out when he saw her picture. That was when I first heard him say her name. Charlie."

Winona took a sharp breath. "Wait. This Maxwell guy knows my…" Then her eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh, no way. _Maxy?"_

Wilson, who had been taking a sip of tea, snorted it onto the fire with a hiss. "Did you just call Maxwell Maxy?"

Winona shook her head. "No, no. I mean, yes, but…" she made a disgusted noise and said, "Okay, what did he tell you about her?"

Allena wanted to know more about 'Maxy,' but she could wait. "He referred to her as a long-dead acquaintance before I showed him the picture, and when he saw her he lost his sh…head," she corrected hastily with a glance at Webber. "He actually talked to his shadow, he said, 'you told me she was dead'. Then the shadow flipped out and tried to kill me, but Maxwell stopped it. Then he told me to stay out of the caves, for some reason, and then he took off. Today, when I saw him, he called her an old friend, but did a full one-eighty on reaction. He acted like he didn't care about her, said the past didn't matter. Do you know anything about this, Win?"

Winona snapped her fingers and said, "Yes, but don't call me Win. Or Winnie. Or Winnifred, Nona, or any other nickname."

She said this with such conviction that Allena put her hands up in a placating gesture and said, "Uh, right. Sorry, Winona."

She continued. "My sister was an assistant in some stage show in San Francisco. She wasn't at it too long, only sent me a few letters before she disappeared, but in the first one she only mentioned her boss as 'her boss', then in every letter after that she called him 'Maxy'. Sounded like she was really crazy about the guy. You don't think they could be the same person?"

Wilson said, "I don't know that we can make any other assumption. How many 'Maxys' can possibly be running around?"

"Yeah, I guess," Winona said warily. "But I don't see my little sister falling for this creep. I mean, he's a total sleaze bag from what you guys have told me."

Wes nodded fervently, brows creased, and Wolfgang said, "Amen to this!"

Allena bit her lip. Should she tell them about her suspicions? That the real Maxwell was possibly being controlled, at least to some degree, by the Shadow?

Then she looked at Wes and decided against it. She didn't want to draw any more attention to the connection between herself and Maxwell.

"Is there much else of interest, Allena? Or does that largely cover what has happened up until now?"

Wilson was looking at her expectantly, and her mouth opened to respond about a second before she had a response. "—Yes. That covers about everything." She scratched her nose and fell silent.

Wes was still staring hard at her, but thankfully, he didn't start miming again. He just watched her. Closely.

She looked away.

She could still feel his eyes on her as Winona said, "Alright, so we need to get to work building this Gateway. I'll be happy to help with that; I've been in manufacturing for years."

Wilson sounded interested. "Can you assist with forge-work and woodcutting?"

"With tools like the ones you guys have? Baby, I could make the whole thing on my own."

Wilson looked pleased with her confidence. "Splendid. I think we should spend the next few days finishing up the other base, that we might have more tenable living situations, and next week we will focus in on the device."

There were some nods of agreement, but Winona said, "Sure thing. But just to make something clear, you can all go through the portal whenever it's done. I'm staying here until I can rescue my little sister."

Wilson looked briefly concerned at this, but Allena nodded right away. "Yeah, of course. We'll figure out how to get her back to normal."

Winona looked surprised. "You want to help me save her? Don't you have a big sister of your own to get home to?"

"Yes," Allena said. "But she can survive without me for a while longer. She has a fiancée, and a lot of friends. I want to make sure _everyone_ gets out of this place okay."

Briefly, the image of a man in tattered clothes straining to pull away from a dark, shadowy throne flashed through her mind, but she shoved it away. _Not everyone can be saved,_ she thought uneasily.

_Run. Hide. Get…_

_DOWN YOU MISERABLE, WRETCHED WORM…_

She crammed a chunk of tallbird into her mouth. It was a testament to how well it had been cooked that it didn't seem dry and tasteless in her mouth. She went on eating the rest of her dinner – cold, by then, but still good – but as she looked up she saw Wes was still staring at her.

Wilson hummed. "Say, Allena, I think Wes wants to convey something to you."

Wes started gesturing again at once, and Allena was glad that no one else could understand him. She watched him mime out, in essence, _what deal was Maxwell talking about? What does he want with you? Why did he attack?_

When he was done she just said, "Yeah, Wes, the soup is fantastic. Maybe we can make some more next week."

Wes slapped both hands to his head in exasperation and nearly hopped out of his seat.

Winona reached over and put a hand on his lap. "Woah, there." She leaned over and whispered something to him, and he turned to her with a frantic expression on his face as his hands moved frantically. Allena recognized, _Something is wrong with her, she needs help, please talk to her,_ but Winona just kept speaking quietly in his ear until he relaxed.

Thank goodness. Hopefully that would keep him off her case for a while.

Wes sat sullenly for the rest of the night, and Allena felt bad about that, but whatever Wes was imagining probably couldn't be worse than the real deal. She would keep it to herself. Besides, it wouldn't matter once they all got home.

To that effect, she resolved to work like mad for the next few days to get the new base ready for Wes and Wolfgang – and Winona, if she wanted – so they could move on to the Gateway.

Everything would be fine. She just needed to get home.

That was all.

* * *

That night, she dreamed. She dreamed that she was sitting in a posh little chair, in a posh little room, with a posh little chessboard in front of her. A fire crackled to her left, and a door to darkness loomed on her left.

She'd been there before. It hadn't been a pleasant experience.

"Not a pleasant experience? I recall it being _very_ pleasant."

She glared at Maxwell as he leaned forward out of the darkness. He was wearing a tight-lipped smile, and his grey eyes glittered darkly at her. They were always a little bit different; sometimes they were the light, lovely grey of a cumulous cloud drifting across the sky on a cool fall day; other times the sharp, playful grey of glittering silver. Today, however, they were the cold, unforgiving grey of slate.

He leaned back a bit, fingers steepled in front of him. "How poetic. See? Even you have kind things to say about me from time to time. Why, then, are you so opposed to closing on our deal? I've prepared the most wonderful living arrangements for you. All the comforts you could ask for. Anything you desire, I can create. Tell me, my dear – what would you like? You need only ask for it."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she asked, "How about freedom? A way home? Could you provide that?"

His gaze went flat. "You know I cannot," he said quietly.

"Then there's nothing I want from you. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

She stood up to go, then spat in displeasure as Maxwell's shadow hands shot up and wrapped around her waist, tying her to the chair. "Stay awhile, my dear. We haven't gotten nearly as much time to chat lately as I would like."

"We'll have plenty of time to chat after you kill me. Until then I'd prefer to stay away from you as much as possible."

Maxwell's complexion was unusually pallid that evening, his expression dour. "You know, it was your civility that once drew me to you. Tell me, where has that endearing trait gone?"

Allena's eye twitched. "I'm not sure. It might have been stomped into the ground by one of your Treeguards, or gobbled up by one of your hounds. It might have been torn apart by your Spider Queen, or crushed to death by your Deerclops. Hell, maybe you didn't stitch it back in the night you sewed the rest of my soul into my body. What do you want from me, Maxwell?" Her tone was harsh, but imploring. "Every time I start to think that maybe you aren't as bad as you seem, you heap some other atrocity onto the pile. What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do?"

"Acquiesce," he insisted. "You've died before, you know how quickly the pain fades. And then? No more struggling." He sighed deeply. His tone took on a blissful cadence. "Nothing more to lose, no more fruitless hope. Give up. Believe me, it's so much easier to just…give…up."

They simply sat there, staring at each other for a while. Then Allena wet her lips and said, "I can't. I have too much to lose. Too many people to leave behind, especially now."

At this, Maxwell snapped, "How well I know. Honestly, you attract these people like flies to a rotting corpse."

That didn't seem entirely fair. "You're the one who sent Wes off to bring Winona back."

Maxwell bristled. "He wasn't supposed to return. But that filthy little beast you picked up warded off every curse I hurled at him."

At this, Allena sat up straight. "Glommer? Glommer kept Wes safe?"

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "Oh, is that what you've named the little cretin? Glommer? Well, kindly be aware that you'll be having no more visitors, nor finding any new friends. Rest assured, I'll see to that."

New friends? What was that supposed to mean? Her interest caught. "Wait. Is there someone else out there? Are they on their way? Nearby?"

Maxwell's pupils contracted, as did his irises a moment later. "That. Is none. Of your. Concern."

Uh, oh. Evil Maxwell.

On a hunch, she scanned the walls for his shadow, for the man who always seemed bound to a throne when the demon came out, but it was hard to see because of the angle of the light. Her hand slipped into her pocket, and since this was a dream she willed her flashlight to be there.

It was. She flicked it on, held her arm out, and shone the light on Maxwell in such a way that his shadow would be cast clearly on the wall.

There it was – the image of the man bound. His head was drooping, but it popped up, suddenly alert, when her gaze fell on it. She saw his shoulders go rigid in surprise, and she said, "Mr. Carter?"

The shadow on the wall nodded, then its head jerked to the side as though in alarm.

Allena saw a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked back to the demon sitting across from her just in time to see its clawed hand flash out as fast as a viper, drawing across her throat. There was a flash of pain, a burst of red, a thrill of terror, and the room went black.

* * *

Allena woke up clutching her throat and gasping. Though Wilson's arms were wrapped snugly around her, she still felt chilled to the bone.

But as she knew, whatever else you felt while you were dying, one thing was always the same at the end. You always ended up cold.

She snuggled closer to Wilson's sleeping form, pressing herself into his warmth.

She really didn't want to die cold.


	39. The Torrent

They'd been working nonstop for three days when it started to rain.

Allena had gone to great pains to get the base ready for Wes and Wolfgang, and she'd also taken the time to put together an excellent welcome package for Winona. Hairbrush, toothbrush, some homemade toothpaste, a pack of snacking jerky, a sharpening stone for her tools, and copious amounts of spider silk, among other things. Wilson had even spent a few hours sketching out a small copy of his atlas so she could have her own personal map of the area.

Resource gathering was a must, so on the first day they did nothing but cut grass, log trees, and gather saplings while Wolfgang hacked away at the cliffs for more stone and flint. The next day they spent a lot of time crafting and refining the materials into all the tools, weapons, and structures they would need at the other base.

By early afternoon on the third day they had finished carting almost everything over, Allena had just finished installing their drying racks, and Wilson was putting the final touches on their crockpot.  
Wolfgang was straightening out the tools and Wes was organizing the chests. Wortox and Webber had both departed the morning after the feast, so they weren't there.

Though Winona hadn't expressly stated a desire regarding which base she would be moving into, Allena suspected that Wilson had his own preferences. He'd spent a lot of time asking her exactly how she liked her camp set up, and then replicating her answers to the best of his ability in the new base. For instance, there was a beautiful workstation with a simple stump-chair that just happened to be a bit too small for Wolfgang. Beside it was a variety of very nice tools.

They were almost done, and about to take a well-earned afternoon off before spending the next day stocking up on food. They had plenty of meat, but they needed berries and carrots.

Then it started to rain.

Normally they would just put on some hats, grab an umbrella, and go about their work, but this rain proved exceptionally problematic. Winona was just looking around the base with Wes and Wolfgang when the rain broke. "This place looks amazing. Think we can get started on…"

She trailed off and looked up, and that was when Allena felt the first few drops hit her head. They'd noticed it getting gradually more overcast as they day had gone on, so they weren't really surprised, but it was still annoying. "Ugh. Winona, we made you a hat, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, let me go grab it."

She took about two steps towards the chest containing swamp, rain, and fishing gear, when a giant toad fell out of the sky and landed directly in front of her.

"WOAH!" She shouted.

Everyone stopped and turned to look. It was as large as any of the normal pond toads, green with a pale underbelly. At first Allena thought that the fall had killed it, as it was lying on its back, moveless. Then its leg started twitching, and a few moments later it wriggled its way back onto is feet, turned about, and looked at them. Its throat swelled, and it let out a deep, gravely,  
 _ROOOOACK!_

Wilson groaned heavily and said, "Oh, no. Not this again."

That was an unusual response.

Winona was looking closely at the toad, and it eyed her in agitation. Then it sucked in a breath in tell-tale preparation for a strike.

"Move!" Allena exclaimed. She grabbed a spear off the wall, leaped forward, and jabbed at the toad just as it struck.

"Yowch!" Winona yelped as the long tongue lashed out at her, off-kilter from the jab, and smacked her hip. She staggered as it nearly ripped her toolbelt off. "You little…!"

Wes, who had been fetching their hats, hopped up and ran forward to drag Winona back. She didn't seem to have any experience fighting toads, and Wes began miming to her to keep her distance from them.

Allena slashed at the toad's underbelly, explanation flowing as she did. "Watch out for their tongues! They can reach about three feet, and they'll tear off anything that isn't firmly attached to you!"

The rain started falling faster, and another toad plopped down just inside the door. It, too, got to its feet and croaked angrily at them as it began hopping towards Wilson. Wilson ran for the weapons shelf and grabbed a spear. "Bah! Alright, I must recommend we retreat to the Vargwood, and quickly! We need some cover!" He slashed the approaching toad to death just as Allena finished off the first one.

Wolfgang snorted as he drew his club, which as a general rule he now kept with him at all times. "Bah! Is only a few little toads. Wolfgang will deal with, while you all keep working. Is good plan, yes?"

Two more toads fell into the base, and everyone looked up.

Allena gasped and jumped back as a forty-pound toad smacked the ground where she'd been a moment before. She skewered it before it could gain its feet, looked back up, and saw an absolute nightmare.

The sky was dotted with dozens of black shapes, all hurtling towards the earth at break-neck speed. Wes's jaw dropped, and Winona said, "Well, ain't that just our luck."

Wolfgang, who was just drawing his club, scowled and said, "Ha! They want to take Wolfgang's stuff? They can have club! Am happy to give to them!"

Another toad was falling right on top of them, and Wolfgang eyed it closely, stepping forward to intercept it. "Wolfgang," Wilson said hastily. "These things are highly impact-resistant. A sharp jab to the belly is the only thing that will really—"

Wolfgang grunted as he swung the bat full force, catching the toad before it could hit the ground and sending it flying into the nearest wall where it was reduced to a red and green splatter on the stones.

_ROOAA—_

_SPLAT!_

Allena retched slightly at the sound, which was very wet and unpleasant, and Wilson snapped, "Fine! Fine, then! But please, let us run!"

Wes was the first to take off, sprinting for the door with one eye on the sky lest he get struck by a falling toad. They all took off after him, and in a moment it was a positive stampede.

_WHAM!_

_BAM!_

_SPLAT!_

_ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOACK!_

Toads were crashing down everywhere, and they constantly had to dodge out of the way to avoid having their necks broken. If one of those even clipped them, it could break bones.

As they were sprinting across the plain, Allena called out to Wilson, "Why are we running for the Vargwood?"

He shouted back, "The trees will provide cover, and slow the toads' approach! We'll want to stand against the trunks to avoid being stricken!"

"Why not the Northwood?"

"I log it regularly! The forest is thinner and the trees are mostly young, too small to provide adequate protection! The Vargwood will give us better cover! Keep running!"

There was a loud rumbling of thunder in the distance, and the downpour began in earnest. What began as a light patter was steadily progressing towards a torrent. It vaguely occurred to Allena that if the lightning got any closer they would be in trouble – aside from the last Treeguard, which was still sleeping in the middle of the savannah, there was nothing out there to draw a lightning bolt but them.

She saw lightning flash in the distance, then the thunder boomed again just a few seconds later, and she put on an extra burst of speed.

 _THWACK!_ A toad struck the ground right in front of her, and she tripped and went crashing to the ground.

She cried out in pain as she skidded against the harsh, gritty mud, but before she could even try to force herself to her feet she was enveloped in a massive pair of arms. She was plucked off the ground and she found herself being carried like a kitten.

She looked up. Wolfgang glanced down at her and said, "Have nice trip? See you next fall!"

She recalled using the exact same line on Wilson just a few months ago, and she chuckled weakly. What goes around comes around. "Thanks, Wolfgang!"

He grinned at her very widely, very briefly, then leaned forward and poured on speed.

When they reached the tree line he set her down. Wilson came over and asked, "Are you alright?" She nodded and he said, "Good. Very good. Now, let us ready for the real assault."

Allena looked at him, as did Winona and Wes. "Real assault? What's that s'posed to mean, eh?"

Wilson said, "When you attack a frog, all the frogs in that area will come after you unless you draw too far away from their ponds. These frogs, however, don't have a pond."

Winona's eyes widened. "Uh, oh. So you're saying…?"

They all turned back to the plain they'd just fled. Behind them, close to a hundred toads were hopping, slowly but surely, in their direction.

They looked angry.

Wilson nodded gravely. "Get ready for a very long, very tedious, very painful fight."

Wolfgang growled, and Wes stepped forward. He held up his hands helplessly, then pointed to Winona. He had no spear, and neither did she.

Wilson groaned in exasperation. "Argh! Right, you'll need weapons! Hold on, I'll—"

Allena raised her hand. "I'm the fastest runner, I'll do it."

Wolfgang snorted. "No one here is going to let little girl run out into toad-storm to get weapons. I go. Be right back."

And without further discussion, he began loping across the plain with what Allena had once heard referred to by Wilson as 'the lumbering grace of a koalefant in flight.'

Toads smacked down all around him, squelching to their feet and letting out furious battle-croaks, but Wolfgang ignored them, only pausing to thwack a few into oblivion when they fell right in front of his bat. He vanished into the base as the first of the toads reached the woods.

"Get back!" Wilson warned Wes and Winona as he stepped forward to confront the toads. Allena stepped forward with him, and he smiled tensely at her. "Toad-kebobs for dinner tonight?"

"Toad kebobs, toad stew, roast toad, fried toad – I'll need to come up with some new recipes."

"Sounds splendid."

They started slashing.

They probably went at it for five minutes before Wolfgang returned with a stockpile of weapons packed away in their pigskin pack. "Also brought salves, bandages, and tea!"

"Thank you, Wolfgang! Good thinking!" Wilson yelled over a peal of thunder.

"Ha! Wolfgang is good thinker _and_ good fighter!"

He passed out spears to Wes and Winona, two boomerangs to Allena, and a blowgun with their remaining darts to Wes. Everyone accepted the extra armaments gratefully.

As Winona stepped forward to join in the fray she asked Allena, "So you hit their bellies, hey?"

Allena replied, "Yup!" As she slashed open another approaching toad. This one didn't quite go down, but one more good jab did it. "That's their weak point. They have some sort of carotid artery about midway across their belly, but it's deep. Try to slash as far in as you can, but if you don't kill them the first time give them a good stab right in the middle!"

She demonstrated on a couple more toads, and pretty soon Winona had the hang of it. "Thanks! Hey, are these things frogs or toads?"

Wilson frowned. "Well, they jump like frogs, but their skin is thick like a toad's. Do they lay their eggs in chains, or clusters?"

"Who cares?!" Allena snapped as she got whacked by an extra-thick tongue. "Just kill them!"

She and Winona fought side by side with Wolfgang on the front lines. Meanwhile, Wilson and Wes took to circling them and keeping the toads from flanking them. They hadn't discussed the strategy; they just fell into it like they had done it a hundred times.

Toads rumbled, thunder roared, and the elements themselves assaulted them at every turn. Viscous winds, pouring rain; Wolfgang had grabbed them all extra hats, too, so they were at least able to keep the water out of their eyes. The frog guts were getting a bit messy, though.

"Uck!" Winona spat as another one exploded all over her overalls. "This is revolting! It'll take me a hours to scrub this crap out!"

"Actually, I have something for frog guts! Leave it to me!" Allena replied.

Wolfgang, who had just had his club ripped out of his hand for the umpteenth time – they all kept losing their weapons and had to recover them under hails of tongues – snapped, "Brainy-man! Earlier, when frog falls, you say, 'not again!' You are seeing this before?!"

Wilson nodded. "Yes! It was during my second spring. I was out on an expedition, and I found myself on the brink of starvation! I'd just lost a koalefant I'd been tracking for two days, and in a fit of anger I began cursing Maxwell. A moment later the bast – ahem, fellow – showed up and asked what the problem was. When I told him I was starving, he promised to send some food my way. An hour later it was raining toads!"

Allena pursed her lips to keep from smiling. That was actually kind of funny. "Well, at least you got some dinner, right?"

"Dinner?! I never even considered that the things might be edible! I didn't eat the toads, but the things did end up swarming a nearby pig village, so I was able to stock up on bacon like you wouldn't believe!"

A toad hit the branches above them, but they slowed its descent so when it landed it just plopped down out of the foliage, stunned. The plain in front of them was growing thick with the little monsters, and if they didn't stop spawning soon then the situation would get out of hand.

Wolfgang bent to pick up his club just as another toad lashed its tongue out at him, but before Allena could even cry a warning he had grabbed it by the tongue and tugged it towards his fist. He bashed it, threw it to the ground, picked up his bat, and crushed the toad's head with one blow.

A chorus of angry croaks welled up from the plains, and the swarm began hopping a little bit faster.

Winona dispatched another one and yelled, "We can't keep this up forever! Not with this many of them on us! Wilson, did your rain last this long?"

"No!" He replied over the howl of the storm. "I assumed the rain may last five times as long since there are five of us now, but this is getting absurd!"

Indeed, it was. They kept having to move backwards to make room as the forest floor was littered with dead toads. There were a lot of them.

A loud series of croaks sounded behind them, and they all turned.

Oh, man. It had been raining just as steadily in the other direction, and now a small army of toads were hopping towards them from the south. This was no longer manageable.

"Wilson?" Allena called nervously. "What do we do?"

He didn't reply, just kept slashing. But his brow was heavily furrowed, and that usually meant he was thinking quickly. Then he said, "Does everyone here know how to deal with tentacles?"

"Yes!"

"I've seen 'em!"

"Puny tentacles are nothing to mighty Wolfgang!"

Wes gave a thumbs up.

Wilson nodded, jumping back as two toads came at him at once. "Good. Because we're going to need them. Has everyone been to the island?"

Winona hadn't, but everyone else had at least given it a look. Now nothing more than a giant marsh, it had become a breeding ground for tentacles.

Allena's skin prickled. "Wilson, are you sure that's a good idea? One bad hit from a tentacle—"

"Is just as bad as getting swarmed by toads! But we cannot fend them off from both sides, and they aren't letting up!"

It was true. They could still hear the periodic impacts of toads hitting the ground all around them. Wolfgang yelled, "You are saying we go to island, lead frogs through marsh, let tentacles kill for us?"

"Precisely!"

Winona hocked up a huge loogy and spat it in the face of a toad that was gearing up to strike her. It croaked furiously and missed its blow. "Sounds like a plan! My arms are getting tired, but I can run all day!"

Allena was forced to concur. She wasn't sure how long she could keep swinging her spear.

"Alright, then," Wilson called. "On my mark, we make for the island. Try to keep inside the tree line. Ready?"

"Ya!"

"Yup!"

"Yes…"

Another thumbs up.

"Okay…" Wilson dispatched one more toad, extricated himself from a small pile of them, and yelled, "Go! Go! Go!"

They all ran. The toads croaked in unified fury and began the pursuit.

They all essentially ran from trunk to trunk to avoid thin foliage, each of them taking a slightly different route so they wouldn't run into each other. The toads were thick at first, and getting out was a near thing, but once they'd left their battleground behind the foes thinned out a bit.

They ran almost to the edge of the landmass before Wilson called from somewhere behind her, "Now, to the plains! Make for the bridge!"

Allena took a sharp right and emerged from the forest ahead of everyone else. At once all the toads, which had been heading vaguely for the tree line, locked onto her. It was unsettling to watch an entire seething plain of enemies turn towards you and start converging in your direction like rivulets merging into a stream, but at least they were easier to keep track of that way.

So many toads had already made their way across the plain that the way ahead was almost clear. She glanced back to see that everyone had emerged behind her, with Wes and Wolfgang trailing in the back.

She ran for the bridge, but upon reaching it she stopped dead in her tracks. The bridge was swarmed with stationary toads.

Looked like Maxwell had planned two steps ahead.

Dozens of blank white eyes stared at her challengingly, and Winona came up to stand beside her. "Uh, oh. What are we gonna do about that, hey?"

Allena didn't know. She supposed they would have to fight their way through them, but in the amount of time it would take to get halfway through, the toads behind them would catch up.

Wilson, too, came up and halted. He cursed, then called back over his shoulder, "It's blocked! We're going to have to—"

They all jumped as a monstrous roar sounded behind them. Wolfgang had heard Wilson and was now barreling forward, arms raised, club stowed in its harness on his back.

Allena's eyes widened and she jumped out of the way as he came flying by, as did Wilson and Winona. They all stared in openmouthed shock as he dove into the swarm of toads, fists flailing.

She could have sworn, where a moment before the toads had been a confident, impenetrable bulwark, they now seemed to regret their deployment orders. Their deep, bellowing _roooaks_ turned into pitiful _ribbits_ as Wolfgang tore through them, sending them flying off the edge of the bridge into the sea. She doubted a single one of them landed a viable hit on him.

Wes jogged up behind them and crossed his arms. He had a smug look on his face.

Wilson was actually ogling Wolfgang's display of might, but when he saw Wes's expression his jaw snapped shut and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, bigger and stronger than me, indeed! We all know it; you don't have to rub it in!"

Winona burst out laughing. "You sure are proud of your friends, aren'tcha, Wes?"

Wes nodded, then jumped up with the expression of a spooked horse, hands shooting back to cover his rear. Just behind him, the first toad to catch up to them retracted its tongue and readied for another blow.

Winona laughed again. "Alright, time to go."

Wolfgang had cleared the bridge and was just throwing the last toad off the edge by its rear legs. He stepped smartly aside as they all came across, bowing at the waist and gesturing them on. "After you!"

Allena curtsied as she went by. "Much obliged."

Again, Wolfgang grinned, then took on his normal, stony expression once more. He drew his club again and rumbled, "Be careful. Tentacles in rain are very, very much fast."

Wait, tentacles in the rain were fast? Faster than normal?

Well, she supposed she would find out firsthand in a moment. The toads were coming up behind her, and she turned to the field in front of her. They all did.

She was still shocked by how much it had changed. Briefly, she saw it as it had been the first day she had arrived – a lush green field of flowers and berries. A tall, mysterious pinewood in the distance, rabbits hopping on the nearby savannah…

Lightning flashed and she saw it again for what it was now – a vile, grey-brown saltwater marsh, void of most vegetation. The berry bushes had turned into tangles of thorns, and the pinewood had somehow metamorphosed into a thornwood like the one they had found on their first expedition. Aside from those bare things, the plain looked lifeless.

She knew it wasn't. About a month ago she'd come over with Wilson and had nearly been maimed when she'd stepped three feet forward and been attacked by a tentacle.

It would be unwise of them to stick together as a group. Fanning out would get a greater number of tentacles active, and so long as all the toads didn't stick to one person, it would cut down on their numbers faster.

They all took off in different directions. Allena cut right, towards the thorn forest. Wilson went left and gestured to Winona to keep somewhat close in case the new terrain caught her by surprise, Wes went straight ahead, and Wolfgang took a slight rightward cant.

Allena ran, and almost at once the ground started boiling. She hadn't gone five feet before tentacles erupted all around her.

She saw at once what Wolfgang had meant when he'd said they were faster in the rain. While the tentacle she had seen in her early days had pulsed for several seconds before popping up, these shot out of the softened soil almost as soon as she was in range and started thrashing wildly.

She gasped and flung herself out of the way as one burst up to her left, then took another sharp turn as two more popped up in her new path. She nearly slipped as she dodged these, and had to shove her spear into the ground and push off with it. A tentacle came down on it and it snapped cleanly in half. She held on to the three-foot long shaft. The tip was jagged; it would serve for some defense.

This was horrible. She figured out the approximate spacing between each tentacle, so she got a decent idea where they would pop up, but if it hadn't been for that she would have died in moments. She juked, whirled, jumped and ducked her way through a mad tangle of the eight-foot growths. She felt like a mouse thrown into a snake pit.

She reached the thorn forest and paused to catch her breath. No more tentacles were coming up, and as she looked around carefully she decided she had gotten far enough into the root system of the trees that no more could grow. The ground was a bit firmer, anyways.

She turned back to see what progress the toads were making…and wished she had some popcorn.

The toads had fanned out to pursue everyone, and the entire marsh was now a writhing, bubbling, thrashing, hopping warfront. Tentacles whipped around furiously, almost frantically, trying to hit everything that was coming within five feet of them. A few toads were pausing to hit them back, but for the most part they were just trying to push through to their targets. As she watched, a toad about twenty feet away locked eyes with her, jumped forward, and immediately got squashed by two different tentacles.

There must have been fifty toads after her, bare minimum. One of them managed to clumsily dodge an incoming tentacle only to be clobbered by another. Its spikes lodged in the toad's back and it flew up, stuck on the tip, before being flicked away by the aggravated purple growth.

That said, the tentacles, though fast and strong, could only hit so many frogs at once. Even as she watched, lightning flashed again, and the fury of the rain redoubled. The sky threw a fresh volley of toads down in direct defiance of the massacre taking place beneath it. Or, perhaps, in support of it.

She watched the hail of toads in awe for a long moment, wondering if this was how the Egyptians had felt. If she was Pharaoh, she probably would have caved at plague number two.

The green cretins bounded across the plains towards her and after her friends, but thankfully her friends were all faring at least as well as she was. It was a bit hard to see through the veritable forest of tentacles, but she was fairly sure she saw each of her four allies making their way through the marsh well ahead of the toads.

With the new rainfall, however, the toads were beginning to overwhelm even the tentacles. They had pushed through, and were now not far removed from her.

She clenched her jaw. There was no way she could keep surviving that C'thulian minefield, but she couldn't hope to kill that many toads on her own.

Then she remembered something – wasn't there a spider nest in this forest? Maybe she could get some spiders to help her out.

She ran in the direction she thought the nest was in. She'd never actually seen it, having been ambushed away from it, but the woods were thinner now. She was sure she'd be able to catch sight of it fairly quickly.

Sure enough, within a few minutes of dodging thorns and keeping ahead of the toads, she saw a few patches of white through the foliage. She wondered, vaguely, how the spiders fared on this swampy terrain. Wasn't it too squishy for ground webs to stick? Wouldn't the nests get flooded out every month?

Then she found herself slowing considerably as she ran into a seemingly invisible, highly malleable barrier.

She stopped dead. She'd stepped on enough spider webs to recognize the texture. She moved backwards very, very carefully, making sure not to thrash or move her arms, and slowly she got to the point where she could pull back on the invisible strands.

She looked up. There was a small nest lodged in the tree, off the marshy ground, and three spiders had crawled out. They'd been creeping towards her, but when they saw her spot them they all swarmed towards her at once.

As they did, she heard the toads catch up behind her.

Every instinct screamed at her to raise her fists and bat away the spiders; to run forward away from the toads; to try and stay upright and in a fighting position.

She did none of these things.

With only a split second to make a decision, she fell flat on her back and covered her face with both arms.

A toad croaked in surprise and landed on her chest. It had leaped towards her, not expecting her to just fall backwards towards it. As she was falling, and as the toad was jumping, a spider had leaped out of the trees towards her, thinking her injured.

The spider got a face full of toad.

It hissed in shock and sank its fangs into the unexpected prey, which retaliated violently.

_ROOOAK!_

Two more toads hopped up, and for a moment Allena was afraid that her plan hadn't worked at all; but upon seeing the spider and the toad fighting, and two more spiders bearing down on them, they decided the arachnids were the bigger threat. They hopped into battle, and the spiders flung themselves from the trees. She lay on the ground, pinned but completely ignored, as the toads and the spiders clashed.

Well, not completely ignored. A tongue hit the top of her head and ripped off her hat – ugh, that had taken an hour to make – and then that one tongue kept smacking her again and again.

She gritted her teeth to keep from howling, but _man,_ did that hurt. It felt like it was ripping out chunks of her hair with every lash. If that had been the worst she could have dealt with it, but she couldn't stay down. Not only were more toads pouring in every second, the spiders had all let out loud squeals of alarm. The other nearby nests would be on her in moments, and at least one of their occupants would be sure to forgo the toads in favor of the downed enemy.

She took her broken spear shaft and jabbed it into the belly of the toad sitting on her chest battling with the spider. It croaked in alarm and jumped away, and as it did so she saw the strands of webbing that had clung to her chest tear away with it.

Excellent! She sat up – the toad that had been hammering her head for the last minute got a couple more swipes in – and lurched off to the side.

This time she waved her stick in front of her to clear the webbing before she hit it, and she was able to make it through without getting stuck again. She looked back, though, and saw something that made her uneasy.

The spiders hadn't swarmed out of the nests. Maybe it was the wind, maybe the rain, or maybe just local spider culture, but they weren't answering their siblings' calls. The three that had ambushed her were already going down, the toads refocusing on her.

She considered. Try the spider ploy again, or head back to the open marsh?

Tentacles were more dangerous than spiders. She'd try the nests.

She made her way back indirectly to avoid the clash behind her and arrived at the main nesting area. She shivered at the sight of the central nest. It was lodged between two tall, thick trees in the middle of a clearing surrounding by small tree-nests, and was massive. It barely touched the ground, and she saw something problematic.

She'd hoped to lure the toads into the clearing to wake the spiders up, but that wasn't going to work. The webbing was all up high, at least five or six feet off the ground, all full of bird skeletons. The spiders didn't have any ground prey, and they didn't like the marsh, so they'd moved up to the trees. None of the toads would jump high enough to hit the webs. She'd just barely been hitting the lowest of them.

She scowled, then glanced back. The toads had finished off her three ambushers and were hot on her trail again in a thick stream. If the toads wouldn't wake the spiders up, she would have to do it herself.

She nodded, plucked a boomerang from her belt, took careful aim, and threw it as hard as she could. It curved through the air, slicing through webs all around one side of the clearing, and curved around to lodge right in the central nest. It hit perfectly, sinking several inches into the Subaru-sized cotton-ball.

Instantly, two legs, each eight feet long, shot out of the giant mass of webbing.

Then two more.

Then two more.

Then two more.

As the huge, leech-mawed head popped out of the front and let loose a blood-curdling shriek, she repeated Wilson's words from earlier. "Oh, not _this_ again."

She considered, then came to a definite conclusion. No, _not_ this again! _This_ wasn't Webber's mother. _This_ she was allowed to lead into bees, or toads, or tentacles, and not feel bad about at all. _This_ she was allowed to watch die with a smile on her face, then tap dance on its grave and whistle cheerfully all the way home.

 _This,_ in short, she could deal with.

The toads all stopped to look at the Spider Queen. Then they all ignored it and went back to chasing her.

Allena ran around, bending over to avoid hitting webs, and did a full loop around the clearing. She wanted all the toads possible to swarm the thing.

Spiders were waking up in the little nests in the trees above her head, but she was keeping out of reach. All the toads that had been chasing her were now spread around the clearing in a giant, hopping circle. She felt like Paulie Python, trying not to hit her own tail. Wait, what did they call Paulie Python nowadays? WormIO or something? And, of course there was Meerca Chase. Ah, Neopets. Good times.

She smacked herself mentally. No time to reminisce about childhood games. The Spider Queen was going mad at the sight of the fifty-toad tail encircling its clearing. It let out a shrill battle cry, and every nest nearby at last took heed, their inhabitants emerging and cascading down the trees in a circular black waterfall. They attacked the toads, which were at last forced to mind the eight-legged swarm they'd been doing their utmost to ignore.

Allena took several steps back and paused to watch the fun, but she didn't get to watch for long. Many toads were being drawn into the battle with the queen, but plenty were still coming right after her. She had to keep going.

She headed for the coast. She really wanted to avoid the tentacles for as long as possible, and frankly she would rather loop the toads back through the forest towards the spiders several more times if it meant staying off the plain. Even tiger spiders and queens were better than tentacles in the rain.

She needed a breather. She put on a considerable burst of speed, going as fast as she dared in the deadly forest, and within a couple minutes had reached the island's edge.

She made it to the ridge that turned the island into a shallow lake once a month. She stepped up to the top of it, intending to use the small rise to catch sight of the others, but as she looked out to sea she saw something interesting.

At first she dismissed it. She'd seen driftwood before. But as she kept staring at it, it seemed to her that she'd never seen driftwood with a mast.

Or a flag.

Or oars.

It was a raft.

Was there someone out there? No way. What were the odds that someone would wash ashore right in the middle of…

Then the horn sounded. It was deep, piercing, not unlike what one might get from blowing through a pristine conch shell. She could just barely hear it over the roar of the wind and thrum of the rain, though if it had been a clear day they would have been able to hear it all the way from their base, no doubt.

Then the conversation she'd had with Maxwell a few days prior flashed through her head.

_…kindly be aware that you'll be having no more visitors, nor finding any new friends. Rest assured, I'll see to that…_

So that's what this was about. Maxwell knew another survivor was at risk of joining their ranks, and he needed them dazed and distracted. Indeed, if the person on that raft even made it to shore, they would almost certainly be killed by toads or tentacles the moment they touched ground unless they were in top physical condition.

Somehow, Allena suspected that they weren't.

Above her, lightning split the sky, and it seemed to her the glow lingered for a long moment. She looked up and paled.

Maxwell's scowling face was outlined in the clouds, glaring down at her.

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, and everything stilled. She looked down on the plain to see that all the toads had stopped. Then they resumed, turned, and began hopping in a single direction in one unified mass.

They were, naturally, heading straight towards her.

They drove across the plain, unheeding of the tentacles, and died by the dozens - but there were more than a few dozen. A _lot_ more.

This wasn't good. That person out there needed help, and odds were slim that any of her friends had noticed the raft. She needed to be there when it reached the shore, but at the speed of the toads' approach, they would be on her very soon.

That was fine. If she could just make contact with one of her friends, they would be able to take care of the rafter. She scanned the clearing to check on them, to see who was closest to her. They were all pretty far away—

She blinked and scanned the clearing again. Unease was seeping into her, chilling as the rain that drenched her from above. She saw Wes, Wilson, Winona…but where was Wolfgang?

Her heartrate notched up and her stomach twisted into knots as she tried to catch sight of her massive friend, but she couldn't see him. He…he hadn't gone down, had he?

 _No._ There was no way. Not Wolfgang. He was too big, too strong. He'd probably just done what she'd done – run off into the forest.

_And you haven't seen him? Haven't heard him? There weren't any toads following him? He's not in there. You know he's not._

He was. If she couldn't see him on the plain, he was in the forest. She made to head back in, to find him and warn him about the spiders, but before she did she looked back to the raft.

Whoever was on it would have to survive on their own until they got to shore. She would have signaled them if she could have, but they were still too far out. Her voice wouldn't carry that far, and she had no whistle or conch horn to guide them. She left.

She dodged toads as she ran in the direction of the nest, intent on bringing the amphibious army back into the queen's fury, and as she ran she yelled at the top of her voice. "Wolfgang? Wolfgang! WOLFGANG!"

She expected to hear his voice bellowing back at her any moment, maybe from deeper in the thorn wood, but she didn't.

_He's fine. There's no way he can't be. He's Wolfgang. Don't worry about it. For now, just focus on the toads._

An image flashed into her head that she hadn't thought of in a very long time. The night she'd made her deal with Maxwell, he'd made her a different offer first. A life for a life. He'd shown her a tall, heavily muscled figure walking through a forest, calling for someone.

Had that been Wolfgang? Calling, perhaps, for Wes? Did Maxwell want him dead, too?

She pushed all of that out of her head. Eyes on the prize.

The prize today was not dying.

She had her game plan. She would just keep looping around the spider clearing while all the queen's horses and all the queen's men killed the toads for her. Easy-peasy.

She ran back to see the spider queen, unengaged, glaring out at the river of toads that had been diverted from the clearing towards the coast. Allena ran in a circle around the clearing, and as she did so the queen saw her and hissed, taking a few tentative steps towards her, unsure if the new prey was worth pursuing.

Allena stopped outside of her clearing, stomped on the ground, and yelled, "Hey, fugly! Come and get me!"

The queen roared at her clear display of dominance and started galumphing forward. As it did it impaled several of the dead frogs on the ground in front of it, which were being eaten by the swarm of heartily contented spiders. They were going to feast tonight.

As the queen called them to action, they all hissed…disappointedly. They had enough food. Did they have to keep fighting?

The queen screeched out her order again, and all the spiders slowly got up and started trundling out of the clearing with her.

Allena turned to loop back around, toads approaching her from one side, the spider army from the other.

It was perfectly timed. The queen and its forces followed her back into the oncoming toad army, and before she ran into them she turned sharply right and let them collide.

It was a slow, confused collision – a fender-bender rather than a T-bone – but both sides were too aggressive to let it slide. In moments they were tussling, and within the minute the queen itself was waist-deep in green.

It swiped and stabbed, birthing more young periodically to deal with the reinforcements that were now streaming into the forest from the plain. They were endless, though, and many branched off to head for Allena. She just kept jogging in circles around the central conflict, dragging the toads into groups of spiders wherever possible.

A tiger spider flew out of nowhere and nearly knocked her down, but she put a tree between it and her and let the toads do the rest. Only one army could be on her tail – they both wanted the right to kill her? They could fight over it.

"Allena? Allena!"

She heard Wilson's voice from somewhere in the distance, probably near the forest's edge, and she felt anxious. Would the toads continue ignoring him if he waded right into them?

She didn't want to take the risk, but the forest was so thick with toads that it would be a challenge to make it back out of the wood. Instead she called back, at the top of her lungs, "Wilson! I'm fine! Head for the west coast, I'll meet you there!"

She could make it back to the coast – and that would allow her to check on the raft again. She backed away from the conflict and dodged toads as she made her way there.

She reached the ridge just as Wilson did. They ran up to each other and Wilson gasped, "This is madness! The number of toads here – where do they come from? How does Maxwell make so many?"

Allena shook her head. "No clue, but he can't keep it up forever."

"He couldn't," Wilson corrected. "Look. They've stopped coming down."

She looked up. To her relief, the only thing she saw coming down now was rain. It looked like Maxwell had exhausted his stock of soldiers, but the battle was far from over. There must have been a hundred toads for each of them, and even though the plain was littered with green, there were still more to deal with. As Wilson opened his mouth to speak again, he barked a harsh reprimand at a toad that had just leapt out of the undergrowth towards them. He cut it down, but more began appearing.

While Wilson dealt with them, Allena peered back out to sea. Though the toads had stopped, the rain was pouring harder than ever, and it was difficult to get a good look. Still, she caught sight of the raft roughly fifty feet from the island. It would be there before too long, and someone needed to be around to help the rafter.

"What is that?" Wilson asked, cursing as a toad smacked his shin.

"A raft," Allena answered. "And I think someone's on it. I heard a conch horn earlier."

Wilson didn't seem to like that answer. "Damnit all, this isn't good. Allena, Wolfgang is injured. Badly. We were able to stabilize him with the supplies he brought, but we still need to get him back to base, and it will take two of us to carry him."

Her gut twisted up again, and she asked desperately, "Will he be okay?"

Wilson opened his mouth to answer. There was a notable pause before he said, "Yes, of course. He just needs some medical attention."

Another toad jumped out at them, and Allena's temper flared. With a wild screech of frustration, she kicked it in the jaw, sending it flopping onto its back, then rammed the broken spear shaft into its belly. Then she turned to Wilson and said, "Take Wes or Winona and help Wolfgang get back to base. I have a spider queen in the forest, she'll take care of the toads, I'll just keep running them around her. Send whoever is left over here to keep an eye on the raft, help whoever it is get to shore."

Wilson's brow furrowed. "That would leave you alone. We can't—"

"Just do it!" She snapped. "We don't have time for this! Go!"

Wilson's hat had been blown or knocked from his head in the battle, and the rain pouring down his face seemed to turn his look of worry into one of abject misery. She reached out and touched his face, gave him a quick kiss and said, "I'll be fine. Please, go help Wolfgang."

He nodded, but he held his spear out to her. "Take this. You'll need it more than I. I'll make do with the broken one."

She relented, they switched spears, and then they took off – Allena back into the wood to keep leading the toads on, Wilson back towards the tentacle plain. As he went he called back to her, "I'll send Wes to take care of the fellow on the raft! Be careful, and keep well out of the toads' way! Return to base if the spiders are overrun!"

"Will do!"

And he was gone.

The entire forest was now swarmed with toads, but no more were coming in from the plain. Whatever she had to deal with now was the worst of it.

That said, the worst was exhausting. She made her way back to the spider's clearing, but she couldn't get close enough to see what progress the queen was making for all the toads in the way. She just kept retreating in increasingly tight concentric circles around the clearing, slashing at toads whenever it was feasible and gradually whittling away at their numbers.

She grunted in pain as she stepped back away from a couple of attackers and stabbed her elbow on a thorn. She was covered in small scratches, and her shirt was torn to hell, but as she kept going she began to see a lessening in the pace of the toads' attacks.

Their numbers were going down. Hopefully the remainder would be firmly on her tail, leaving Wes free to help the rafter. They must have been close to the shore by then. She dodged around the tree, slashed at a toad that was harassing her ankles, turned to put some distance between them—

And nearly ran smack-dab into Maxwell.

"Son of a…!" She screeched in alarm.

He smiled pleasantly at her. "Good afternoon, my dear. So, how are you liking my little surprise?"

She stared at him for a moment, then finished her previous sentence.

His smile dropped into a disapproving frown. "Well, _I_ thought it was amusing. Don't you rather like toads? You were the one who gave Wilson a taste for them, weren't you?"

She growled as she stepped around him to avoid the few that were hot on her hackles. She snapped at him, alarm still coursing through her veins, "Tasty or no, a rain of toads is absurd, Maxwell! What are you, my wicked fairy godmother?"

He tsk'd. "So ungrateful. Would you rather I turned you _into_ a toad, perhaps? Or maybe a hound? Loyal beasts, they are. And I would so love to see you curled up at my feet in front of the fire on a cold winter night."

She let out a heavy sigh. Creep. "I'm busy. Go away." She stabbed another toad that got too close and danced out of the way as three more took its place.

"I notice you've recruited a Spider Queen to assist you. Where do you keep finding these things? I didn't even know there was one in the area. And I'd _so_ hoped to enjoy watching you sprint around the plain getting crushed by tentacles."

Well, it was good to know that Maxwell didn't keep perfect track of his own world. If he didn't know there was a Spider Queen in the area, what else might he be oblivious to? "Why are you here, Maxwell? If you showed up to kill me, get it over with."

He licked his lips. "I would love to, my dear, but alas – I'm not at liberty. More direct measures tend to require…permission."

She glanced at him and nearly got skewered on another thorn. "You mean like Wolfgang? You wanted my permission to kill him, didn't you?"

His face lit up. "I was wondering if you remembered that! That was a lovely evening, was it not? Your visits are the highlight of my year. I wish you would drop in more often."

Allena killed another toad and changed direction so she could loop back around to the Spider Queen. The battle had been raging in the distance, but it seemed to have quieted down. She might have to divert more toads to keep it going.

Even as she started moving, however, she was feeling uneasy. There was a continuous prickle on the back of her neck.

Why was Maxwell really here? He was behaving strangely. He wasn't the volatile man she'd been encountering as of late; instead, he reminded her more of the man she'd met that fall day by the pond, the one who had offered her tea, biscuits, and banter. Was he perhaps trying to put her at ease? Convince her that he was still capable of being the pleasant, mellow man she'd met in her early days in the Constant? What purpose would that serve? She wasn't about to throw herself into a tentacle, no matter how agreeable he could be.

Maxwell didn't walk after her, but every time she rounded another tree he was standing just ahead of her. "Tell me, what is your favorite type of tea? I'm an Earl Grey man myself, but perhaps you prefer an herbal brew?"

"English Breakfast," she huffed out as she dodged around him again. "Constant Comment, Morning Thunder. Chamomile when I want something herbal."

The Spider Queen was just ahead, and to Allena's surprise it wasn't looking too hot. The webbing and much of its hair had been completely torn away from its underside, and it wasn't lashing out with the same fervor it had originally shown. It looked exhausted, sides heaving with breath and two of its legs splayed out to balance it as it swayed. The remaining spiders – many eight-legged corpses were scattered across the ground – were cloistered protectively around their queen.

Thankfully, the spiders had served their purpose. There couldn't have been more than forty toads left, a manageable number even without the spiders. If she could just get back to camp, she would be fine.

Maxwell was still insisting on his chatter, and went on talking while she was circling the battleground to decide how best to approach the situation. "Goodness, look at all the carnage. Well, at least the spiders will be eating well tonight. Though their queen looks quite dispirited. She's almost asleep on her feet! I wonder if she'll even make it back to her nest before drifting off tonight."

_Drifting…?_

That word stuck with her, and it occurred to her that maybe Maxwell had a reason for being here that had nothing to do with his own personal amusement. The man on the raft must have drifted to shore by then; but if Wes hadn't been able to make it to him…

A sour taste filled her mouth. Maxwell was distracting her.

She took off, leaving him behind unceremoniously, and as she darted in the direction of the coast his mood turned from genial to vicious in the blink of an eye. "Where do you think you're going? _Did I say you could leave?"_

The toads turned as one to impede her, hopping in front of her and lashing out at every turn. She dodged them as best she could, but she barely made it ten feet before a tongue hit her ankle and sent her sprawling.

She fell. Hard. Almost at once there was a heavy weight on her back, and she tried desperately to push herself up. She couldn't dislodge it, though, and as she looked around she saw the toads all amassing on her, heading for her, and Maxwell was just ahead with a smile a mile long, and—

A loud, furious, garbled hissing burst forth from just behind her, and all the spiders who had been protecting their queen rushed forward. With the toads focusing on her, the spiders were able to launch a new , vengeful offensive.

The weight on her doubled briefly as a tiger spider flew over and latched on to the toad on her back. But their tussle left them off-balance, and she was able to shove them off. She got to her feet, avoided the last few toads, and ran straight at Maxwell with her spear held out in front of her. Either he would move, or she would impale him.

He moved. His face was expressionless as he sank into the ground, but his eyes were pure white once again. The Shadow possessing him wasn't happy.

She ran for the coast, fearing it would be too late, but as she reached it she saw something that sent a bolt of relief shooting through her.

The ridge along the island was only about two feet out of the water, and she saw a pair of arms scrabbling at the bank. Just before them were a few packages and a long, thin rod, likely the castaway's luggage pushed ashore. The mast of the raft rose just behind him. Whoever it was, the person had reached the shore and was trying to struggle onto land.

She ran for the arms of the stranger to help him up, but before she could she was sent sprawling to the ground.

The earth had started to shake, the temperature plummeted, and she heard Maxwell's voice echoing in her mind:

_I think not. You've made enough friends, 'my dear'! This one can drown like the rat he is!_

The raft was sinking. She could see the mast falling further and further below the lip of the island. Then the arms fell away, and—

No. The raft wasn't sinking.

The island was rising.

Unable to stand on the trembling ground, she crawled towards the bank and looked over the edge to see that the sea was now at least six feet away. The raft was still afloat, bumping against the sheer stone, and clinging to the mast was a tall, skinny man, soaked to the bone and barely able to stay on his feet.

The island stopped shaking, and she called to the man, "It's okay! I'll help you! Take hold of my spear!"

She saw the man's head jerk up to look at her. The clouds were so thick that it was dark as dusk, and she could see no details on him, but she imagined he must have been surprised.

She took her spear by the head and, heedless of the sharp stone digging into her hands, lowered the shaft down to the him. He took hold of it and tried to tug himself up, but almost at once slipped and fell back. The shaft was too slippery in the rain for him to pull himself up by it. She needed something with more traction.

She tossed the spear behind her and it hit something. That something gave a loud, agitated, _roooaaack!_

She whipped around. A small toad was glaring at her, and it sucked in a deep breath. Then its tongue came out and smacked her right in the eye.

"OW! You little…"

Then, as the extra-sticky tongue tore half of her eyebrow off, she gasped in revelation.

She lunged for the toad and punched it in the face. It tried to turn and hop away, put more distance between them, and when it did she grabbed it by its back legs. Before it could react to this, she swung it around and dangled it over the ledge. "Grab onto this!" She yelled down.

_Roooooaaak! Rooaaak! Roooooooak!_

She felt the toad tense up, heard a yelp of pain from below, then the toad's croaks became shrill and retching. She felt a heavy strain on it, and she lurched forward as the toad was tugged towards the sea.

She scuttled backwards to avoid being dragged over, and braced herself as the man below pulled himself up by the toad's tongue. She just hoped that tongue was firmly attached.

It was. A hand came up and hooked in the toad's eye, then clawed at its back, then reached past it to scrabble at the mud of the bank.

She let go of the toad with one hand and lunged for the arm, taking hold of it and heaving back with all her might. The arm locked with hers, then another one came up. She took that one too, and with another great heave the man flew over the edge of the bank and fell on top of her.

The breath was knocked from her. The man was thin, but he was still heavy. He grunted when he fell, and she could feel him panting with exhaustion. Then he moaned, rolled off of her, and laid still.

She sat up, strapped the spear to her back, and took his arm. The toad she'd just used as a makeshift rope wasn't alone. She could hear more coming already. "Hey, no time to nod off! We need to go! Up! Come on, _up!"_

She was reminded of the night Wilson found her shivering by the fire, and she hooked her arm under the man's and pushed them both to their feet.

He leaned heavily on her and didn't seem coherent. All she got out of him as she started leading him back into the woods was, "sacré…bleu…my…spices…"

He reached for the large bag on the ground, but Allena jerked him away. "We'll come back for them later! Move!"

And she threw them forward into the forest.

She would need to cross to the eastern side of the island by way of the thorn wood, which extended all the way to the other side. If she left it she would need to deal with the tentacles, and dodging wet tentacles while half-carrying a grown man was a losing proposition.

The toads were no longer a swarm, but they still popped out of the darkness of the wood with frightening suddenness and frequency. She had to constantly course-correct to avoid both them and the thorny trees around her.

In retrospect, she had no idea how she got to the other side of the island. By all rights she should have been impaled on the thorns or overwhelmed by the toads. But no – she managed to get all the way to the eastern coast.

She wondered with sudden dread if the land-bridge had fallen with Maxwell's raising of the island, but when she got back to it her fears were allayed. The bridge was intact.

She staggered towards it. By now the man was more unconscious than not, and it was becoming very difficult to move him. This was especially troubling because every toad that hadn't been killed by the spiders was now right behind them.

She could hear them hopping, each wet slap against the ground bringing them a few feet closer to her. She pushed forward, willing them across the bridge and in the direction of the base. She was just barely able to keep ahead of the toads, but so long as the man didn't completely collapse, they would make it.

They made it to within fifty feet of the base when the man collapsed.

She'd just gotten close enough to see, through the still-driving rain, that someone was out in front waiting for her when he went down. She let go of him as he fell. She couldn't keep him going anymore.  
She turned to see thirty toads hopping towards her. She could run, but if she did, the man would be trampled to death before she could return with reinforcements.

She clenched her jaw and pulled out her spear.

They would come for her. Wilson, Wes, Winona – assuming they had all made it back, they would come for her. She only had to hold the toads off for a minute. Two tops.

She charged them. Spear stuck straight out, she ran forward shrieking at the top of her lungs. She didn't have a battle cry. She just shrieked.

The toads threw themselves forward, the first one impaling itself on her spear. Guts flew as she tugged it out and slashed at another. Tongues began pummeling her from her left, then from the right, but she kept stabbing and cutting and jabbing and slicing…

_Roak! Roak! Roak! Roak!_

_Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham!_

There must have been five tongues hitting her every second. Part of her shirt was torn away, then her spear was ripped out of her hands. Before she could collapse completely, however…

"OY! GET OFF OF HER, YOU SLIMY LITTLE FREAKS!"

Allena turned to see Winona charging into the thick of it, Wes at her side, Wilson right behind them. It seemed that they were low on spears, because only Winona was armed with one. Wilson was armed with twin golden axes, and Wes was using a hammer.

He brought the hammer down on one toad's head and its tongue popped out like confetti out of a party-popper. Winona wielded the spear like she'd been hunting toads all her life rather than only for the last hour. Wilson…

Cripes. If she hadn't known any better, she would have pegged his previous profession as 'mad axe murderer' rather than 'gentleman scientist'.

With the toads' attention drawn away, she was able to extricate herself from the mass. She picked up her spear and set to work with the rest of them.

Four exhausted, wet, hungry, injured survivors against thirty giant, angry, powerful, demon toads?

No contest.

They took the toads apart. Allena, for her part, went at them with renewed fervor, sick and tired of their obnoxious croaks and their punishing tongues. Wilson had been driven into a near frenzy at the sight of her being overwhelmed, Wes looked like a five-year-old who had been given a pint of Mountain Dew and unlimited plays on a Whack-a-mole machine, and Winona just looked like she was having a straight-up good time.

In minutes, the remainder of the toad army lay disassembled at their feet.

Wilson was the first to speak. "Well. At least we won't be wanting for food for the next week or so."

Winona spat on the ground. "Yeah, but I imagine we'll get sick of toad pretty fast."

Wes nodded concurrence.

Allena walked over to their new, collapsed friend. She knelt down next to him, checked his pulse to see that he was, in fact, unconscious and not dead, and said, "We need to get this guy back to camp. Wilson, can you help me?"

Wilson came over, as did Wes, and they both leaned over to inspect the guy. Then Wes shooed her out of the way, he and Wilson grabbed the guy by the arms, and they heaved him to his feet and started dragging him towards base.

"Where," Wilson panted as the man's head lolled between them. "Do you keep finding new people, my love?"

"I found this one on a raft."

Winona laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough. "Ack – well, the more the merrier, I guess. Dude looks a little scrawny though, don't you think?"

Wilson grunted, "He doesn't feel scrawny."

Allena, following close behind the three, put her hand on Wilson's shoulder in support. "Almost back. Just a bit more. And…"

She looked up at the sky and blinked. It had just gotten a whole lot brighter, and as she tilted her head up she realized that it had stopped raining.

She smiled. "It looks like the storm is over."


	40. In the Wake

Wilson was sitting at his inventing table, inventing. At least, that was what he was supposed to be doing.

"Wilson," Allena asked patiently. "I can feel you staring at me. Don't you have better things to be doing?"

"I am not staring at you! I'm doing…calculations."

She could indeed hear the scrabbling of a quill on parchment, but she strongly suspected that if she got up and went over to look, she would discover a corner of his page covered in meaningless scrawls and loops. He'd been glaring at her on and off for the last three days, and she'd gotten pretty good about sensing when he was irritated with her.

Of course, he wasn't really irritated with _her._ He was irritated with their new guest, with whom she was spending all of her time. To her it seemed pointless to be irritated with an unconscious man, but jealousy was jealousy. Still, she was willing to tolerate Wilson's so long as it didn't impede the recovery process.

As soon as Allena had gotten a good look at the man she'd pulled out of the ocean, her coddling instinct had kicked in, and she'd completely taken over the responsibility of nursing him back to health. He'd been out cold for three days so far, but he definitely wasn't getting worse.

He was well-tanned with short, dark, curly hair done up in a tight bun atop his head. He also had a full-on William T. Riker beard, also curly, but slightly shorter and trimmed well away from his mouth save for some recent stubble. He wore torn black pants, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up past the elbows, and a stylish blue vest. She thought him of Mediterranean origin, and recalling his French exclamation when she'd left his bags behind she decided he was very possibly from the south of France.

Wes and Winona had gone back to the island the day after the Torrent of Toads, as they were now calling it. The word 'rain' seemed utterly lacking in the aftermath, and they'd decided on 'toads' over 'frogs' for alliterative purposes.

The two had gone out to butcher whatever toads were out of the tentacle field and hadn't been eaten by the spiders, as well as to retrieve the new guy's stuff. Allena and Wilson stayed to butcher the toads close to home, of which there were plenty.

Allena had found out what had happened with Wes during the Torrent. Wilson had told him to go back and try to help the man on the raft, but Wes conveyed to them afterwards that he'd heard Allena's voice coming out of the forest telling him that Winona had doubled back to get the man, and that Wilson would need help with Wolfgang. He ought to have overtaken them and discovered this not to be the case, but the rain and clouds had thickened considerably and blinded him. Unable to call out to find them, he'd gotten lost and had had to stagger back to camp alone.

They all chalked this up, of course, to Maxwell's trickery. He hadn't wanted anyone there to help the new arrival. If Allena hadn't figured the game out, the man definitely wouldn't have made it.

As it was, he'd barely made it even with her help. It hadn't taken long for them to realize that, going by the way the man's clothing hung on his frame, he'd lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. He had blisters all across his body, likely from too much salt and sun, and the poor guy smelled absolutely fetid. Wilson and Wes had taken the liberty of giving him a full hot water sponge-bath while Allena cleaned everyone's clothes and Winona prepared an extra sleeping mat for him. It was anyone's guess how long he'd been at sea, but he wouldn't have lasted much longer. That was for sure.

"I can't imagine a more distressing fate," Wilson had remarked as he'd done a quick medical inspection after the bath.

"At least he wasn't sharing the raft with a 450-pound adult Bengal tiger," Allena had responded. Wilson had looked at her strangely, and she'd added the book 'Life of Pi' to her 'Books to get for Wilson when we get home' list. She suspected he would enjoy it.

After getting the man settled on his mat under the lean-to and wrapped up in wolf pelts to keep him warm, Allena had asked about Wolfgang. Wilson had led her over to him, and she'd almost gone into hysterics.

Wilson had done triage on him in the time before Allena's return with the last of the toads, but it had taken a lot more work to keep him alive. At least three different tentacles had landed bad blows on him. In addition to a dislocated left shoulder, Wolfgang also had two deep, nasty gashes in his left side, three horrendous, torn puncture wounds in his right arm, and a long furrow down his left thigh. He was covered from head to toe in bruises. He'd made it out of the tentacle field with his injuries only to be swarmed by toads. It had taken Wes and Wilson ten minutes to get him clear, and in that time…

She'd been so afraid he wouldn't make it. It was heart wrenching to see him so broken and battered. Yet within the day he was conscious, by day two he was able to sit up and eat on his own, and by day three – amazingly – he was walking again. She attributed this to Wes's excellent care; of course, she'd hoped the care she'd provided to their new guest would prove as fruitful. Thus far, it hadn't.

She spoon fed him hot beefalo stew, steaming frog broth, and tea with honey; she rubbed fish oil, beefalo butter, and poultice into his sores until they vanished; she changed whatever bandages needed changing every day and applied fresh salve to all of his injuries; she brushed his hair and kept him groomed; in short, she did everything she could think of to make sure he was comfortable and healthy when he woke up.

Wolfgang, when he'd finally been well enough to stand, had walked over to find her with the man's head in her lap, soaking his hands in warm water and carefully cleaning the dirt out from under his fingernails. Wilson had been glaring daggers at the guy, and Wolfgang had laughed heartily. "Look, she is like mother duckling! Next will be sitting on him to keep him warm, like egg, ya? Is very sweet."

At that point Wilson had decided that Wolfgang had recovered sufficiently. He had singlehanded packed up the remainder of Wolfgang's things, as well as a pack of medical supplies, marched them over to the new base, come back, and pointed adamantly to the exit.

Wolfgang and Winona had laughed all the way over to the new base. Wes had also found it fairly amusing, though he was still worried about his friend. Allena might have protested Wolfgang leaving so soon, but with the new body in there it was getting a little absurd. Five people in one base was bad enough. Six was past the limit.

"Do you think our new…friend…will wake up soon? I dare say it's about time he did."

Allena finished brushing the man's hair and set the comb down on her little roll of supplies. She picked up the bowl of spider salve and began rubbing it into his now-peeling sunburns. "Recovery can only be rushed so much, Wilson. Give him time. He'll be okay."

"Goodie," Wilson said unenthusiastically. She knew he wasn't actually hoping the man would die – he'd been genuinely concerned about his plight on that first day, before it became clear that he would recover. Still, he had no qualms about expressing his discontent that she was spending so much of her time poring over the guy like he was a toddler with the sniffles.

Wilson was irritated. She decided to do what normally got him contented again – try to get him talking about science. "How's the, uh…" She racked her brains for his latest project. "Tri-dimensional…power…amplifier…coming along?"

Wilson sniffed disdainfully. "The trans-dimensional power converter is well on its way to being complete, but I'll require more gold to connect it to the trilateral amplifier in such a way as to prevent another meltdown."

Allena's heart lifted. Wilson had taken a great deal of time to study the schematics she'd brought in-depth, and he'd made a few improvements to them. Apparently, the first time he'd made the device he'd been driven by an almost preternatural inventive frenzy. Now that he had the time and patience to go over the designs that had been so unceremoniously shoved into his head three years prior, he was able to see some major flaws.

He suspected that the pure information had been manipulated to ensure a partial system failure in the device, such that it would only function long enough to pull one person through before shutting down. With the changes he was making, he believed it would be possible to construct a stable Gateway – something that would allow all of them to pass through it, along with all the supplies they could carry, before shutting down. They would, of course, need to bring anything of use and value with them, in case they just ended up in another wilderness.

"Maybe we could go to that tallbird nesting site sometime this week. It would be nice to pick up some eggs, and once Wolfgang has recovered we ought to be able to cull the numbers easily so we can get to the gold."

Wilson opened his mouth to reply, but before he could they both started. The man, who had been still and silent since arriving, had groaned.

Allena set down the salve at once. His eyes were twitching beneath the lids, and his face was contorting in some discomfort. She took the man's hand in hers and squeezed it softly. "Hey there. It's alright, everything's okay."

Another groan. Then, "Water. Need…water…"

She stood up and rushed over to the water barrel, filled a cup, and brought it back over. She cradled his head and brought the water to his lips, and he took a small sip. Then his neck twitched forward and he tried to chug.

"Woah, there," she cautioned laughingly. "Small sips. You don't want to drown yourself right after making it to dry land, do you?"

His eyes flickered open briefly before shutting again. She put the water to his lips again and tilted the cup slowly back so he would take measured sips. "Drink as much as you like. We have plenty here. No shortage at all."

He finished the cup and opened his eyes again. He blinked them several times, but it seemed like he was having trouble seeing. No wonder – his eyes were all gunked up with sleep.

"Wait right here," she said. She got up again and fetched a small washcloth and bowl for some water, as well as refilled the cup. She sat back down with the man, dipped the washcloth in the water bowl, then very gently dabbed at his eyes to clean them off.

He gasped with relief as he felt the water on his face, and his hand twitched up to grasp the cloth. She let him have it, guided it to the water bowl, and once the cloth was soaked he began scrubbing his face, seeming to savor the sensation of being able to clean himself.

Wilson was watching, and Allena looked over at him happily. Their new friend was finally awake.

She took the cloth back when he was done, and the man opened his eyes and was at last able to get a proper look around the camp. His gaze traveled from the firepit to the tool shelf, then to one of the newly made cabinets, and…

He finally looked up at Allena, and she smiled at him and took his hand again. "Hey. You've been out for a while. How are you feeling?"

His jaw dropped in an expression of awe, and he looked up at her for a long moment before saying, "There are…other people here?"

His voice was cracked and coarse, but it seemed to Allena that it was – as she'd suspected – vaguely French. The accent wasn't heavy, but it was recognizable. "Yup," she said. "Five of us, actually. Seven if you count the periodic visitors."

The man's eyes widened. Then he looked past he as he finally caught sight of Wilson.

Wilson nodded to the man – not the most welcoming gesture, but not exactly aggressive, either. "Good day. I hope your ailments aren't giving you undue trouble."

The man groaned again, head wavering as he struggled to keep from falling back to the pillow, and Allena propped him back up and grabbed the refilled water cup. "Here," she said. "Drink some more. Maybe when you're feeling up to it, you can have some tea or warm broth. Does that sound okay?"

His attention came back a bit at the words, 'tea' and 'broth'. "Tea? You have tea here? And broth? What kind? Doydoy? Mussel?"

She wondered what a doydoy was. "Only beefalo and frog, I'm afraid – though we were thinking about going on a tallbird hunt, soon, and that tastes a bit like chicken. How does some hot chicken broth sound to you?"

He made a sound of absolute longing and said, "It would appear that I've died and gone to heaven. Sacré bleu, indeed…"

If she recalled correctly, sacré bleu translated literally to 'Holy God'. She laughed. "I guess when you compare it to where you came from, it must seem like it. Now, how are you feeling? What can I get you? I cooked up some toad soup this morning, there's plenty left on the stove."

Wilson cut in. "Are you in much pain? If so, I have something for that."

"Not butterfly wings, by chance?" The man asked cautiously

Wilson quirked an eyebrow, pulled open his secret drawer, and plucked out two wings.

The man looked tempted, but pulled back. "Ah, my injuries are manageable. I do not want to deplete your slender stores."

Wilson's eyebrow raised further, and he pulled out ten more butterfly wings. "I assure you, our stores are anything but slender. Take a look outside if you don't believe me."

The man looked confused, and tried to sit up. "Woah, there." Allena pressed him back down. "Plenty of time for that later. We don't even know your name. I'm Allena, and that's Wilson."

The man smacked his forehead. "Pardonne-moi," he said with clear embarrassment. "This is all quite a rush. My name is Warly. It would seem that I am in your debt, Allena. Wilson."

Allena frowned down at him.

"Forgive me," he continued anxiously. "Have I said something wrong?"

"No," Allena said, shaking her head. "I just can't help but wonder why everyone here but me seems to have a name that starts with 'W'."

The man looked surprised. Then he burst out into a rich, deep laugh. "What a strange coincidence! Perhaps you'll be able to introduce me to all of your oddly named acquaintances?"

"We'll be happy to," Wilson replied in a tone that wasn't exactly bursting with happiness.

Warly looked at him with mild worry as well. "Eh, are you sure I have said nothing wrong? Nothing is amiss?"

Allena rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. He's my significant other, and he's jealous of all the time I've been spending with you."

Wilson huffed in utter indignation, as though appalled that she would say such a thing out loud, and turned back to his work table to continue with his notes and tinkering as Warly burst back into laughter.

* * *

An hour later he was adequately fed, tended, and as well-watered as a potted plant. Allena had even fetched him a razor and some shaving cream to allow him to clear away the stubble around his mouth. She was now kneeling beside him with her arm looped around under his shoulder, helping him to his feet. He was shaky and heavy, but with a good solid effort they managed to get upright.

"Whew!" He panted. "How long was I asleep, mon amie?"

She steadied him and led him over to a table so he could support himself while she picked out a simple cane for him. "Three days. We managed to get you back here in the middle of that storm, Wilson took care of your injuries, and Winona set up your sleeping quarters."

He took a slow step forward, but his legs were horribly weak and Allena had to keep supporting him as he made his way towards the door. "Ah! What a burden I must have been. And am still being…"

Allena squeezed his free hand. "It's fine. We've all had bad days. You'll recover in no time at all. And in the meantime, rest assured; you're in good hands."

She got him to the door and, upon looking out, he gasped.

No doubt after having nothing but blank blue and grey water to look at for goodness knew how long, the sight before him must have been a sight to behold. Green fields full of flowers and butterflies; lush forests to the north and south; distant pools of fresh water with huge, plump toads hopping back and forth across them; and in the distance, on a low hill, yet another well-constructed base, sturdy and secure. There were no rabbits hopping the savannah, sadly; the stomping of the Treeguards had, as they'd discovered, caved in all the burrows, and they hadn't reopened.

Warly stood there for a while, drinking in the sight, and finally he asked, "What is that over there? That wooden structure?"

He nodded at the item he was referring to, and Allena explained, "That's our flowhive. I drew up the basic design, and Wilson made a solid blueprint and built it. It allows us to house bees and harvest honey without the risk of getting stung. We have all the honey we could want now."

"I have not tasted honey since I arrived here! I tried a beehive once, but it was no use. Too many stings; I could not get close."

Allena winced sympathetically. "Yeah, I took my fair share while getting the comb and first bees here. It wasn't fun. But boy was it worth it."

Warly hummed agreement. Then his eyes locked on a form moving across the way. "Say, is that one of your friends?"

She looked. Indeed, it looked like Wes was making his way over. "Oh, yup! Say, you're French, aren't you?"

"However could you tell?"

Allena chuckled. "I think the first thing you said to me might have tipped me off. 'sacré bleu! My spices!' Well, maybe you and Wes could chat with each other. He's—"

But Warly's mind was somewhere else. "Oh, no! Oh, no no no! My spices! My crock pot! I must—"

Allena patted him on the shoulder and tried to calm him. "It's okay, it's okay! We went back and picked everything up for you. Your things are inside. Come on, we can go check on it, make sure everything's ship-shape."

He turned and hobbled back in, stress clear in his face. The moment he caught sight of his bags, all bundled up in some sort of waterproof tarping, he went over and dropped to his knees beside them and started fiddling with the knots.

His fingers were shaking too much to undo them. Allena stepped in and helped out. "I got it, don't worry." She jimmied the knots undone and carefully unwrapped everything.

Well, almost everything. One package, large and spherical, he snatched away from her when she tried to undo the strings binding it. "Not that one," he said cryptically.

She shrugged, but couldn't help but give the package a curious look. Still, she let it be and finished unwrapping the rest of the luggage.

The moment his supplies were revealed, he sighed in relief. "Oh, it is all here. All accounted for. And not damaged at all, it would seem!"

Aside from an herb pouch, a long spear tipped with a lovely black and orange stone, and a small bag of odds and ends, there were three high-quality, well maintained, obviously manufactured cooking implements. Everything was red, a whole matching set, and from what Allena could tell, it all looked surprisingly modern.

She wanted to ask what time he was from, but she held off. He'd told her that he'd only met one other person in the year or so that he'd been there, and that they hadn't exchanged more than a few sentences. There was no way he'd know about the temporal displacement issue.

Warly hummed as he ran his fingers over his cooking devices. "I do hope that this land will be kind to my herbs. I brought over several seeds to grow them wherever I landed, and if I can perhaps find a small plot of land to use I would be happy to share the fruits of my labour with you all."

"That would be great," Allena said cheerfully, turning her attention from the grim task of the time-talk. "There's plenty of land you can use. We have a small garden behind the base as is, along with manure and lots of fresh water nearby. Winona is working on enlarging it. Maybe we could make a little garden for your herbs. I know we wouldn't mind having a bit more variety in our diets. We have salt and pepper, but not much else."

Warly nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. Your toad soup, though quite refreshing, could have used a hint of basil and a tad more salt." Then he said, "Forgive me. I interrupted you earlier. What was it you were saying about your friend?"

She heard footsteps near the entrance of the base, and Warly turned his head to take in the new arrival. Wes came around the corner, saw Warly, and mimed great surprise. Then his face split into a wide grin and he came over, bowed deeply, and held out a hand.

Warly's face lit up. "A mime! I haven't seen one in years, not since the last time I visited Paris! A fellow Frenchman, then, perhaps?"

Wes nodded cheerfully, and helped Warly to his feet. Allena said, "This is Wes. He and Wolfgang joined us here a few months ago."

"Wolfgang?" Warly asked curiously. "An American, a couple of Frenchmen, a Slav, and…may I ask whereabouts Wilson might have come from?"

"You may ask, but you'll be disappointed. Wilson isn't big on telling people about his background, aside from 'European'."

"Western European. That's all you lot need to know!"

Warly laughed. "Well, it seems we have quite the diverse crew here. You'll have to tell me all of your stories. Perhaps tonight, over a bonfire?"

Wes nodded enthusiastically, then stepped back, pointed to Warly, grabbed hold of an invisible pole and swung around it, holding an invisible spyglass to his eye, and began rocking gently where he stood in a perfect imitation of a man on a raft drifting up and down in the waves.

Warly leaned against a nearby table and clapped. "My, you are far more talented than any of the mimes I saw in Paris during my last trip. I must say, the art used to be more common. My maman would have loved to have seen your like…"

His eyes flickered briefly with worry and sorrow, and he trailed off. Before Allena could ask him what the matter was, he spoke again, this time with a hearty tone of voice. "So – toads and pines, honey and flowers. You must tell me. What other kinds of marvels does this new island boast?"

Wilson shook his head. "Not so much an island as a continent. At least, I haven't been able to scout the entire perimeter since my arrival three years ago."

Warly looked quite shocked by this news. "A continent? Oh, finally! No more traveling from shore to shore to scrape a living! No more leaky rafts, no more saltwater scarring!"

"Let me show you the map." She led him to their atlas and pointed out their base. "This is where we are. That's the Northwood, over there." She pointed to the map and to the direction of the wood so he would be properly oriented. "Nothing much in there but a decent spider colony for silk and glands."

"Ugh!" Warly said in disgust. "Spiders! What is it you Americans say? Cannot live with them, cannot live without them!"

She couldn't help but agree. "Pretty much. Boy, though – I can't wait to introduce you to Webber. Now, this is the Vargwood. Have you ever encountered the Varg?"

He shook his head. "I cannot say I have. Is it impressive?"

"Imagine a hound twice the size of a warhorse."

"I would rather not."

She laughed. "This is Chester's clearing – Chester's out helping Winona cart supplies, I'll introduce you to him and Glommer later – and south of that are the beefalo fields. The tallfort is over here, that's where we get tallbird eggs and meat. And gold. We're gonna have to head over there soon for all three of those. Then down here past the beefalo fields? That's the Deerclops Forest."

"What is this…Deerclops?"

"Oh, that's a whole story all on its own. Wilson will do it justice for you some night. Over here is the Spider Fortress, and that's where Webber lives with his spider-mama."

"Hmm. This Webber is a friend, you say? I should like to meet him and his mother sometime."

Wilson snorted. He'd clearly been listening to them closely as he pretended to work. "Webber, yes. His mother? You'll want to avoid her. Trust me."

Allena said, "Eh, yeah. Probably a good call. So past that is the desert, the oasis, the Thornwood…"

She went on pointing out everything of interest and describing all the basic resources they had access to. It seemed like everything was fairly different from where he came from, from the beasts to the plants. When she explained that the spiders here weren't even venomous, he decided that he had truly come upon a safe haven.

At some point during Allena's atlas tour Wes had taken off, likely to let the others know about their new guest's consciousness. Eventually, she looked at Warly and realized that he was having trouble remaining upright. "Oh, man. That's enough for now. You look like you need to sit down."

Warly, almost nodding off on his feet, insisted, "No, no, not at all! I'm quite…" He yawned deeply and finished, "…alright."

Allena raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled sheepishly. "Ah, well, perhaps I ought not take things too quickly."

He allowed her to help him back to his roll, and while he got comfortable she asked him, "So, how long were you on that raft? You look like a person who has lost a lot of weight fairly quickly, if you don't mind my saying."

Warly laid back on the roll and tugged a hound pelt over himself. There was still just a bit of lingering chill from the storm. "I cannot say for sure, but I imagine it must have been at least three weeks…and I ran out of my slender food stores four days before arriving. The water lasted only two days longer."

Allena's eyes widened. Four days without food? Two without water? "No wonder you were so worn down. Well, no need to worry about that now. Welcome to the land where food rains from the sky."

He chuckled. "Wouldn't that be nice!"

Wilson turned and pointed to the drying racks. "No, she's being quite serious. It rained toads the day you washed up on our shores. We quite literally have more food than we know what to do with."

Warly scanned the racks in amazement. "Mon Dieu! Now that you mention it, I do seem to recall being pulled to safety on a rather strange and sticky – not to mention painful and noisy – rope…"

Wilson returned to his work, grabbing a few pieces of gold and weighing them before jotting something down in his notebook. Allena asked Warly, "Say, you strike me as the type of man who enjoys cooking. Think you could give me some tips on how to prepare frog? I only have so many ideas."

As soon as she asked him this, Warly's face lit up like Christmas. The light that came into his eyes wasn't unlike what Wilson got when he was inventing, that Wes got when he received a raring round of applause, or that Winona got after a long day of honest work. "Do I! Be my sous chef, my dear, and I will treat you by proxy to such meals as you could hardly imagine!"

At the words, 'my dear', Wilson turned around and glared briefly at Warly, before shaking his head and returning to his work with a mere mild sigh. Allena smiled wryly. She didn't blame him for his ill temper; the base had been overly crowded and extremely busy these last few days. What was more, he'd been looking forward to having the base to just the two of them again. But with six people, it only made sense to split them up three to a base.

An idea popped into her head as she helped the new arrival settle down. She couldn't exactly un-rescue Warly, but she could do something to cheer up Wilson. She leaned over Warly and asked him quietly, "Are you good with desserts? If I gave you, for instance, butter, milk, flour, oil, berries, honey…"

"I could make a dessert to tempt the angles down from heaven."

She nodded. Then she sat back and said at a normal volume, "Why don't you spend the next couple of days giving me and Wes some cooking lessons; once everyone's fully recovered we can take a trip to the tallfort, get what we need for the machine, then hunker down and work on it."

"Machine?" Warly asked curiously. "What sort of machine might you be working on?"

Allena grinned. "How interested are you in getting home?"

Warly's eyebrows about disappeared into his hairline, and he prompted her, "Do go on?"

Allena spent the next hour telling him her story and filling him in on the basics of their endeavors while she ran around tidying up the base. She'd let it get a bit messy since the rain, and there was a lot of dried mud to get off of everything.

About an hour in, as she finished scrubbing the crock pot in preparation for the next meal, she looked over to see that their new friend had fallen asleep.

She'd been talking about some of her own experiences in her early days in the Constant, but with her audience snoozing she petered off. Wilson looked around to see why she had fallen silent and, upon seeing the sleeping survivor, nodded contentedly. "That's just as well. He needs more rest, no doubt. The poor man."

He sounded a bit dismissive as he said this, but for all his seeming detachment he had taken care to help Allena tend to the man's needs once he had woken up, well beyond just sharing a few butterfly wings.

She walked over to him and hugged him from behind. "It'll be a while before he recovers. But really, we're lucky, aren't we?"

He breathed deeply as she began massaging his arms absentmindedly. "Mmm. How so?"

"We have a new friend to help out around the base. He brought seeds for herbs and spices, he has some nice cooking equipment, no doubt he'll liven up our diets."

"French food has never settled well with me. I cannot trust a people who regard snails as a delicacy in any matters culinarian."

Allena kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry. I'll be sous cheffing for him, so I'll make sure he doesn't put any snails in your soup."

"Much obliged, my love."

"Seems like the frog is mostly dried. Want to help me take it down and string up some more?"

Wilson groaned, but he pushed his research aside and stood to help her.

A few hours later the jerky stores were full, and the drying racks were laden with fresh frog. The base was spotless, the cooking equipment was all clean and ready for use, and a variety of toad, fish, and beefalo cuts had been set aside, along with a number of other ingredients. Allena had just sent Wilson off to fetch Wes and to let the others know that they would be having dinner together that night, and to come over around dusk.

She wanted to make use of Warly's cooking expertise, so she knelt beside him and gently shook him awake. "Hey, Warly. It's getting on towards dinner time. Think you're feeling up for a cooking lesson?"

At the word cooking, one of his eyes winked open. "Eh…? Cooking…?"

"A cooking lesson. I've laid out some ingredients, cleaned all the supplies, set up a place for you to sit, and invited Wes over. Think you can muster the energy to boss us around for a couple hours?"

Warly sat up and stretched with a groan, then grinned excitedly and said, "Nothing would refresh me more! Now, show me what we have to work with."

She helped him up and led him over to the tables. He scanned the setup and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Yes, I think we can whip up something decent with a selection like this. And you say I'll have two hands on deck?"

"Yup. Wilson will be back with Wes any minute."

Warly could still barely stand, so she set him up on one of their sitting stumps with a snack and a tall mug of tea. "Hopefully that will wake you up and whet your appetite a bit."

Wes and Wilson returned a few minutes later, and to Allena's delight Chester and Glommer came along with them. Wilson tossed her the eyebone and Chester came bounding over to her. "Wes brought you a little surprise. He thought our new friend might find some use for these."

Chester skidded to a halt at her feet, and Warly leaned over and examined him with interest. "My, what sort of…?"

Then Chester popped his top, and Warly gasped in delight. "Mushrooms!"

Indeed, there were about a dozen blue and green mushrooms. No red ones. Those ones were, as Wilson had assured her on several accounts, absolutely intolerable no matter how they were prepared. Allena scooped the bounty out and set it on the table. "Thanks Wes!" She knelt down, closed Chester, and scratched him between the horns. "And you too, Chester. Did you bring me some tasty mushrooms? Hmm? Whosa good boy? Are you a good boy? Yes, you are! Good boy, Chester."

Chester whined happily and his back leg started twitching. Warly peered at him curiously and asked, "What exactly is this delightful little creature?"

"That is Otto Von Chesterfield, esquire," Wilson explained. Then he pointed to their humming blue bug as he set his flower down on the edge of the cooking table. "And this is…Glommer. Allena named that one."

She hopped up and started fawning over Glommer. "How's my Glomglom, huh? You have a good day at the other base? Did you miss me? I missed you. D'aww, you're so sweet. Isn't he sweet?"

Warly poked Glommer gingerly, then gave him a cautious scratch atop the head. "Eh…I think I like it."

"According to Allena, he excretes strawberry ice-cream flavoured goop during the full moon."

Allena huffed indignantly. "According to me? You've seen him do it!"

"Yes, but I've never _tasted_ the stuff."

Warly looked at her with poorly hidden disgust. "You've sampled the _excretions_ of this strange creature?"

She flushed. "It wasn't on purpose! He gooped on my head one night. A little got in my mouth. And I'll have you know, his goop has magical healing properties. It cured my deafness."

"Hm. Well, whatever culinary and medicinal properties the goop may have, you'll excuse me if I do not try some myself. I think that might drive me a little bit mad."

"So the French do have some culinary standards," Wilson remarked.

Allena sighed and led Chester and Glommer over to their normal out-of-the-way social corner as Wilson sat back down to continue his science. It was time they started on dinner.


	41. A Whale of a Tale

She had been looking forward to this cooking lesson all day, eager to learn a few new recipes and prepare something special for them all, but halfway through the lesson she was beginning to think that their diet was diverse enough as it was.

As she and Wes discovered when he adopted the role of cooking instructor, Warly in the kitchen was a whole 'nother animal that Warly outside of it. Whereas the man whose company she had been rather enjoying that day was relaxed and amiable, the man she was dealing with now was strict, focused, and demanded absolute perfection from his new protégés. Wes seemed perfectly fine with this instruction style, adapting on the fly and taking critique like a pro, but it made Allena intensely uncomfortable. Some people performed well under the stress of having a demanding teacher. For her…

"No, no, nononono. Do not simply stir the concoction. Whisk it! Whisk!"

Her movements stuttered. How was she supposed to whisk without a whisk? She didn't have a whisk, she had a spoon! And what the hell was the difference between stirring and whisking, anyways?

"Faster! Whisk faster!"

Wes had just finished tenderizing the rest of the cuts and was now mixing flour up with some of the herbs Warly had leftover in his herb-pouch. She was supposed to be whisking some sort of egg white, milk, and butter mixture, but apparently she was doing it wrong.

"Ah, Wes! Take over the whisking. Allena, rinse off some of those mushrooms. Carefully, do not scrub the skin off of them!"

She dropped the spoon and grabbed some mushrooms. "What kind? Green or blue?"

"Green! Now, wash!"

She grabbed a basin of cold water and began gently rubbing the dirt off of the fungi. But under Warly's impatient gaze she sped up a bit too much, and—

 _"Do not tear the skins!_ The skins help keep the flavour in!"

Her pulse notched up a bit and she nearly dropped the mushrooms. Wilson, for his part, had given up entirely on trying to do science and was watching the show with rapt attention.

She finished washing the mushrooms and set them on the cutting board. Before she could ask what to do next, Warly fed her the next set of instructions. "We want those mushrooms halved and oiled, the milk warmed, and the carrots scrubbed, skinned, and julienned!"

Julienned? _What the hell did that mean?_

Normally she multitasked all the time while cooking. Now, stressed out as she was, each new order seemed to bunce the last out of her head. She didn't know what julienning was, but she heard 'skin and scrub the carrots', so she went to the carrot stores and took them over to the wash basin.

"No, put the milk on to warm first! Then hurry with the mushrooms, we will not want the milk to get too hot!"

She dropped the carrots in the water and darted for a saucepan. She nearly ran straight into Wes, who was now turning to follow the next set of instructions, and he looked at her in some surprise. Her movements were quick and agitated, and she didn't think he'd ever seen her in a fuss before.

She grabbed the saucepan and filled it with milk, only to hear Warly say, "Too much! Only two cups, or it will take too long to heat! Then work on the mushrooms, leave the carrots for last!"

Why even bring them up if he didn't want them done right away? She threw the pan on the fire and ran back to the mushrooms, grabbing a knife.

"Use the short knife, and remember – halve them!"

She grabbed the short knife and some mushrooms and began chopping. Her hands weren't quite doing exactly what she needed them to, though, and the mushrooms ended up chopped more 60-40 than 50-50.

Warly tsk'd at the sight of her poorly chopped mushrooms, and her stress levels jumped up another notch.

"Bah, skin the carrots! And mind the milk!"

She glanced over at the milk, gave it a quick stir, then shot over to the carrots, again nearly bashing into Wes. She started scrubbing the carrots. She didn't quite get through all of them, though, before…

"The milk, Allena! Do not let the milk overheat!"

She made a groaning sound in her throat that vaguely reminded her of the really old, heavily rusted door on her grandmother's wardrobe. She'd loved hiding in that wardrobe as a kid when she played hide-and-seek with her sister, and it had taken her years to realize that the creak was so bad that Linda could always hear it from downstairs. Hence why she would always get found.

She stirred the milk, took it off the fire, turned back to the table and began looking around. Where was the milk supposed to go?

"Wes! Flour!"

Wes came over and grabbed the milk from her. She let him have it. What was she supposed to be doing now?

"Allena! Carrots!"

Right. Carrots. She finished scrubbing the carrots then picked them all up. Where was she taking them, again? What was she supposed to be doing?

"Skin them! Use the short knife, and do not take too much of the root with the skins!"

She whirled around to take the carrots to the chopping block and as she did, her foot caught on a table leg. She stumbled, and all the carrots fell into the dirt.

Warly snapped in frustration. "Bah! Pick them up and scrub them again! We are too far behind for this! The mushrooms are already—"

She picked the carrots up, threw them into the basin with a splash, turned around and screeched, "Wilson, you do it!" And stomped towards the tool shelf. She couldn't take this anymore.

Wilson and Wes both looked at her in shock. "Where are you going?" Wilson asked.

She snatched Chester and Glommer's things off the shelf and grabbed an axe. "To tell Wolfgang and Winona that dinner will be ready in an hour!"

"But I already did that, they're coming over at dusk, and why do you need an axe to…"

She wasn't listening. She needed to get out of the base.

She grabbed her iPod and left. Chester hopped cheerfully after her with Glommer close behind, both oblivious of her bad mood and excited to be going for a walk.

She'd grabbed the axe on impulse. There was always something that needed axing around there, and she needed to work off her energy. She knew that this wasn't healthy. Exerting oneself in a violent manner when angry – such as punching one's pillow or swinging an axe around – just taught you that violence was an acceptable outlet to anger. Going for a jog, cleaning the house, pulling weeds in the garden; all of these were good outlets for anger. Chopping wood wasn't. But at that moment, she didn't really care.

The fallen Treeguards still littered the plain, big ugly chunks of slightly charred wood. They were an eyesore, and Wolfgang had promised to clear them out as soon as he was recovered. Allena decided she would get cracking on those for a little while.

She turned on her iPod, put on some Imagine Dragons, and headed for the nearest Treeguard.

* * *

Wilson stared after Allena as she stormed out of the base. He'd noticed that she'd seemed a bit agitated while cooking, but he'd never seen her rush away in the middle of a project before.

Warly looked surprised as well. He looked to Wilson questioningly, and Wilson said, "I think your tutelage may have been a bit intense for her."

Their new guest's brows knit in concern. "Oh, dear. I used to give cooking lessons before moving to the coast, but I exclusively taught advanced students, some of the best in Paris, people who had already learned to deal with the strain of a demanding instructor. It did not occur to me…"

"Understandable," Wilson said preemptively. It would never have occurred to him that his Allena, who had battled winter giants and hordes of hounds with utmost emotional grace, would have been sent into hysterics by a mere cooking lesson. And yet, it had looked to Wilson that she had nearly been in tears from the seemingly trivial ordeal.

Wes blinked, looked down at his bowl of milk, flour, and herbs, and quickly went back to mixing.

Wilson, who recognized that Wes would never be able to handle all the steps on his own, jumped right in and rinsed off the carrots before taking them to the chopping block to skin them. As he did Warly gave Wes the next set of instructions and asked carefully, "So if you do not mind my asking, is Miss Allena always so…sensitive?"

Wilson responded as he ran the short, sharp blade up the carrots to remove the skin. "Not at all. I've never seen her panic like that. Actually, she's normally astoundingly calm under pressure."

Warly hummed. "She has made reference to a few catastrophes you've suffered here. Has she ever been involved in any herself?"

Wilson finished off the carrots and said, "She was involved in _all_ of them herself. She's been right there on the front lines of every battle we've weathered here in the Constant. Julienning – what exactly does that mean?"

"To cut into thin strips. And when you are done, we will need to place them in cold water, then boil them."

He gave the slicing a try. "Like this?"

"A bit thicker, but the width is fine." He gave Wes the next set of instructions and said, "So Miss Allena is a fighter, then?"

"Oh, yes," Wilson replied as he set to work on the carrots. "I've never met a more courageous woman. You should have seen her the day we faced the Varg," he said reminiscently. "She mentioned the Varg to you, yes?"

"The dog the size of a carthorse? She was present when this beast attacked?"

"Present? She saved my life from it." Warly looked at him almost disbelievingly, and he explained, "The creature had just torn dear Chester to pieces and broken my ankle, you see. It was a moment away from ripping me to shreds. It was all I could do to pray she would flee, find somewhere safe to hide until it left. But she did not. No, she stood her ground and shouted – nay, _commanded_ it to turn from me. The sight of her standing there, tall and unflinching before that fell beast will stay with me for the rest of my life. If you had heard her then…the sound still rings in my ears to this day."

That wasn't necessarily a pleasant claim, either, no matter how well the encounter had turned out for them. The terrible fear that had flooded him upon seeing that beast's eyes lock onto her, all the fires of hell burning in their depths, still visited him in his nightmares from time to time. The terror that he was about to watch his beloved be torn apart as Chester had, to watch her fall beneath its bulk, its teeth…

Had it been contemptible of him to lose hope before that creature's strength and ferocity? Had it been selfish of him to wish only that he died first, to save himself from the pain of losing her?

He believed it had been.

He sighed as he set the carrots aside and fetched a pot of water. "She led the beast into a pair of fang traps that she had set while I'd occupied the beast's attention. Then, limping as it was, she was able to stay ahead of it long enough to lead it into the Living Grove."

"Living Grove?"

"A collection of Treeguards I gathered through the years and led to a clearing in the forest. She tricked the Varg into bashing into one of them, and the Treeguards tore the beast apart."

Warly looked quite taken aback, and Wilson nodded in the direction of the other base. "Ask any one of us. We will all attest to her daring and tenacity." He set the carrots on the stove to boil, then added, "Performing complex tasks under the pressure of a demanding teacher may not be her forte, but there's no one more qualified to stand beside you on the battlefield."

Wes shot Warly a very serious look and nodded deeply before returning to his task.

Warly looked thoughtful. "She was the one who pulled me from the sea when I arrived, yes?"

"Pulled you out of the ocean by the tongue of a toad, half-carried you through an army of the little monsters, then turned to face that army singlehandedly to prevent you being killed until we showed up to finish the rest of them off. Yes."

Wilson had been quite impatient to describe the encounter to their new arrival, but he knew Allena would have been embarrassed. She got so terribly flustered when he talked up her accomplishments.

Warly looked at him strangely. "Ah bon? She…protected me?"

Wes set down his cooking implements and hopped into one of his shows, pantomiming a figure trudging along under the weight of a semi-conscious individual; then partially collapsing under the weight, hopping up, and looking around fearfully at a number of approaching foes. His face twisted up into an overly heroic expression, he whipped a non-existent spear off of his back, and he leapt forward and began jabbing and slashing at a number of invisible enemies. After a minute of this he winced, clutched at his side, fell to his knees, had his spear yanked out of his hand – quite convincingly, too – and began thrashing about under a hail of unseen blows.

Warly watched all of this, astounded. He looked to Wilson, who said, "Yes, that's about how I remember it. You saw all of those bruises she was covered with, yes? They extend head to toe, and most of them were gathered in that final attack." He concluded, "So in summary, she is quite the impressive specimen."

Warly looked towards the exit of the base with an expression of guilt and admiration. "My. In that case, I daresay I owe her an apology."

"Oh, I doubt she'll blame you for this," Wilson said offhandedly as he grabbed a large knife and rinsed it off. "She's always the last to lay blame and the first to accept responsibility."

Warly stared off thoughtfully for another long moment, then shook his head and said, "Ah, enough of that! Once we get the meat on to cook, things will ease up. Wilson, batter the fillets and heat some oil in that large pan. Wes! Oil, salt, and skewer those mushrooms!"

It took nearly an hour of intensive work to finish off the preparations. By the end of it even Wilson was feeling taxed. Wes still looked to be enjoying himself, though, so once everything was cooking Warly dismissed Wilson with a word of gratitude. "Your assistance is much appreciated, but I daresay Wes can handle the remainder. Dinner will be ready in approximately twelve minutes. My thanks for your most skilled intervention."

Wilson nodded deeply. Though cooking had never been his specialty, he was forced to recognize a master when he saw one. "My thanks for the lesson. Hopefully I'll be able to incorporate some of this into my daily life. That tidbit about tenderization was quite insightful."

Their culinarian nodded proudly and said, "Cooking is one of my life's two loves."

Wilson, who was on his way out of the base to find Allena, asked, "And what might the other be?"

At this, Warly's mood sobered, and Wilson sensed that the other love was something of a sensitive topic. "Ah, I ought to find Allena. Another time, maybe."

Warly nodded, and Wilson took off.

He thought it would take him a long while to find Allena, and he was worried he might not run into her until dusk, which was fast approaching. But to his relief he saw some movement on the plain right away, and closer inspection revealed it to be Allena…chopping wood.

Goodness. She really must have been frustrated. He made his way over to her, vowing to keep a bit of distance between himself and the wood she was swinging at. For someone who could gut a toad with finesse, the girl had surprisingly awful hand-eye coordination when it came to swinging an axe.

Glommer was buzzing a short ways behind her, well clear of the axe, and Chester was curled up nearby, panting contentedly. Wilson approached cautiously and said, "Preparations are all complete. Dinner will be ready right on time."

She looked over at him, swung one more time, then pulled out one of those little wires that let her hear music on her handheld gramophone. "I really embarrassed myself back there," she said.

Her face was red, and she looked miserable. Pity welled up in him and he went over and pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "You really shouldn't be. Even Warly admitted that he was a bit demanding. He is accustomed to students who require draconic standards to achieve their best. It's hardly your fault that you aren't on par with some of the best student chefs in Paris."

"Wes didn't seem to have any trouble with it," she said, voice strained.

"Well, Wes is Wes. I cannot speak to his experiences and ability, but I know a fair bit about yours." He wrapped an arm around her waist and said, "It would be quite silly of you to look down on yourself over something as small as a failed cooking lesson. A person cannot excel at everything, and you have too many strengths to become hung up over your weaknesses. Need I remind you who is, in part, responsible for this very felled giant at which you are chopping away?"

"Wortox and Winona, mostly. They did all the fighting. I just kept running away."

"And you ran for a very long time, they tell me! Well past the point of exhaustion, and for what? To keep your friends from harm."

"And to not get squished."

Wilson shook his head in exasperation. "Oh, stop being so difficult. Self-pity looks bad on you, not least of all because the rest of us know fully well what you're capable of."

She looked up at him, and he noticed her eyes were red. She'd been crying.

Frankly, he was absolutely baffled at the degree to which a botched cooking class had upset her, but he decided to just chalk it up to her being a woman, and therefore emotional, and to do his best to assure her that he found her in no way inadequate.

He tightened his grip on her waist and, without warning, whirled her around so she was pressed against the trunk of the Treeguard. He caged her against it with his arms and leaned over her. "I've been telling stories about you, my love."

She blushed further, startled by the sudden change in position. "S-stories?"

"Stories," Wilson nodded. "Stories such as the day you saved me from the Varg, and how you pulled a poor, shipwrecked soul from the wreckage of a sinking raft before carrying him to safety through an army of vicious amphibians."

"You really don't have to do that."

"I like to," he insisted. "I like everyone to know exactly what a magnificent woman you are. I like for them to see you as I do."

She groaned. "Why?"

He leaned his forehead against hers and said simply, "Because you are _my_ magnificent woman."

He kissed her. She tensed at first, but as he ran his fingers up and down her sides and tightened his grip on her hips she relaxed into it, and soon he had her reduced to a bashful mess. He liked her when she was bashful. It was terribly sweet, and it contrasted so beautifully with the ferocity she exhibited on their more taxing days in the Constant.

He drew away after a short while with a sigh that was one-part bliss and one-part disappointment. She retained her grip on his shirt, letting go only reluctantly when he took a step back. "Alright, I suppose we ought to go fetch the others and head to dinner. Preparation for it may have been grueling, but I anticipate that it will all be quite worth it."

She looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry I left you to deal with that. Here, let me load Chester of with a few of these logs, then we can go."

Wilson nodded. "Allow me to help you with that."

He bent to pick up what appeared to be half of a Treeguard foot, but the moment he touched it he frowned. Something about it felt off to him somehow.

He picked it up to examine it. "How peculiar."

Allena looked at the wood and asked, "What it is?"

"Does this wood seem…alive to you?"

"What do you mean?"

Wilson rotated the chunk of wood in his hands and held it out to her. "It is oddly dense. What's more, it doesn't feel quite as cold as it should. It feels slightly warm, and I must ask – is the grain changing? Just ever so subtly?"

They both stared at the lumber for a long, quiet minute, and Allena's jaw slowly dropped. "Yeah. It is."

The grain on the wood had seemed wavy when he'd first picked it up, but it was becoming more irregular as he watched it, whorls and knots appearing where none had been before. It also seemed to be darkening just slightly in some places, lightening in others.

They watched it for another minute, transfixed by its slow metamorphosis, then Wilson said, "This…is some very interesting wood."

Allena got a look of interest. "Do you think you'll be able to use it for the Gateway? I know you're always looking for odd materials. Even gold is barely extravagant enough for you."

He licked his lips. "Hmm. Yes, I daresay we have enough of this living wood here to satisfy my needs as they pertain to the device; so long as the actual density and volume don't change, I think this may be a very helpful substance."

They loaded a few chunks into Chester, but not too much. It was abnormally heavy for pine wood, and they didn't want to tax their faithful friend. "So," Allena said. "Shall we?"

Wilson nodded. "We shall. And look! It would appear that we needn't even fetch our friends. They're making their own way over, right on time."

Allena looked over to the other base to see Wolfgang and Winona on their way out. "Good deal. Let's go – I'm hungry."

They made their way over and intersected their two friends midway. Winona called out to them as they got close. "Hey! Weren't you guys supposed to be cooking? What were you doing over there all by yourselves, eh?"

Wolfgang said casually, "Probably getting some of that 'alone time' you Americans are always going on about. In Soviet Russia, and circus, we did not need much alone time. Always better things to be doing!"

Winona snorted. "Yeah, who wouldn't rather be shoveling elephant crap or making shoes than enjoying 'alone time'?"

Allena's face had been turning steadily pinker as they discussed this, and Wilson said, "Merely helping Allena examine those Treeguards. There's something quite strange about the lumber they leave behind."

"Oh?" Winona asked, clearly interested. "You'll have to fill me in tomorrow. But for now I really hope you guys didn't mess up the dinner. I'm starving!"

They made it back to the base just as Warly was coming out, leaning heavily on his walking stick. "Ah, good! I was just about to call you in. The food is prepared, and these things are best had fresh and hot, right out of the pot!"

"Been on the edge of my seat for the last two hours, ever since Wilson came over and said you were one of those French super-chef types. You guys have a rep in America, you know that?"

Warly smiled proudly. "I hope I will not disappoint. Though much of the credit must go to my sous chefs. As you can see, I am in no position to be cooking myself."

"Why would skinny chef want to cook himself?" Wolfgang asked curiously. "Not much meat to be had. All skin and bone when we dragged you into camp."

Winona roared with laughter. Warly blinked, but did not respond to the comment.

They all walked past Warly towards the tables, where Wes was standing to show them the meal.

Wilson noticed Allena lagging behind a bit, and as he moved past her he heard her say quietly to Warly, "I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know what came over me, but that was really absurd of me to storm out like that."

"Nonsense! If anyone is to blame, it is me. I made quite an ass out of myself, shouting you about like a dray horse rather than…"

Wilson left them to their conversation. He'd just caught a whiff of the food, and the aroma had taken over the whole of his attention.

Good heavens.

Thin, juicy cuts of beefalo arranged artfully on a plate alongside sliced blue mushrooms, all soaked in a dark, steaming broth. Butter-roasted carrot sticks and diced green mushrooms in small, individual bowls in lieu of leafy green salads. Fillets of fried and battered fish garnished with some sort of dark red sauce and splayed out around piles of herb-roasted toad legs. Tall cups of chilled water that appeared to have been lightly flavoured with berry juice. Even by the standards of his old home, this was…

"Wow," Allena said, staring wide-eyed at the selection. She'd come up beside him while he'd been ogling the array.

Winona only spared it a glance before giving a loud whistle and saying, "Soup's on!"

She dug right in, heaping a plate with a decent amount of everything, and Wolfgang was quick to follow. "Almost looks too good to eat," he said. "Almost."

Warly smiled wryly. "I have been told such before. I once had a family stand stare at a course I prepared for so long the food was almost tepid by the time they dug in! Please, help yourselves while it's hot, I implore you!"

They did. They all heaped their plates with the delightful bounty before them and took their seats by the fire. Allena took a minute to unload the lumber from Chester's belly, much to their fluffy orange companion's relief, and also to make sure that Glommer had a nice long sip from his flower. Only once their two pets were settled and comfortable did she attend to herself.

Warly watched her curiously. "Hm. She really is quite the caring creature, is she not?"

Wilson nodded as he took a sip of the berry-water. "She always has been. After the Varg broke my ankle she not only took over the bulk of the hard labour to maintain the base, she also tended to me as thoroughly as one could hope for every day until I was recovered."

Warly nodded as he watched Allena finally scoop up a pile of fish and frog. "And you are her lover, yes? Any plans for a family? No doubt she will make a fine mother."

Wilson felt his face warm slightly, and he tugged at his neckline. He knew the French were quite the romantics, but he was utterly unaccustomed to such open discussions. Especially from people he had just met.

Still, the question was politely meant, so he answered. "I asked her once, and though she was a bit flustered by the question and answered somewhat obliquely, she did intimate that she was interested in beginning a family in time. Though as to my status as a lover…" He cleared his throat and said, "We have not yet gone so far. We are both agreed on waiting for marriage."

Warly chuckled. "Ah, one does not need to go so far to attain the title of 'lover'. There are more ways of making love than the candid one." He waved a hand airily and said, "Love is more than an action. It is a way of living. It is the way you greet her in the morning, how you ask her how her day has been; it is the way you say goodnight, the way you discuss the plans of tomorrow, and the morrow after that. It is in each and every glance and touch, every laugh and every tear, every breath and every sigh. Love is more than a simple action, just as life is more than mere survival. To the French, to truly live is to love. This is the only life that matters."

"How poetic."

Now the culinarian laughed outright. "I do enjoy my romantic novels when I am not reading up on the most modern cooking techniques."

It occurred to Wilson to ask the man from which era he had come, but he decided to leave that to Allena. She was more sensitive about such things than he was, and at any rate…there was food to be had just then. No time for morbid conversations.

They all settled comfortably around the fire and began the meal. The first thing Wilson tried was the beefalo cut with mushrooms, and to his delight he found it excellent. "Good heavens. The meat is so tender it nearly melts in the mouth. I think the mushroom is firmer."

Warly nodded. "All thanks to dear Wes. One has to have a certain amount of strength to pressure the meat into yielding to the desires of its chef."

Wes looked up from his plate. A leg of frog hung from his teeth, but he lifted his arms in a quick flex before returning to his dish.

Allena laughed, though there was a hint of brittleness to it. She was still a bit embarrassed, it seemed. "I hope I didn't leave you with too much work, Wes."

Wes shook his head and waved her off. Winona asked, "What happened? Cooking lesson too much for you?"

Allena blushed and said, "Uh, kinda. I sort of ran off in the middle of it."

Winona brayed with mirth. "Who runs away from a cooking lesson?! What, were you afraid the food would fight back?"

Wes shook his head disapprovingly at the woman, and Allena scowled at her. Then her face smoothed out and she said, "Oh, you know, we can't all be as tough as you, Winona. Say, I bet Warly would love your help preparing dinner tomorrow night." She batted her eyes at Winona, giving her a wide smile.

"Sure. I'll be happy to help."

Warly glanced back and forth between the two, mouth twitching in amusement, then shrugged and said, "So, I believe Allena mentioned that we would get to enjoy some stories tonight. She has already alluded to several tales of interest. Monsters and mayhem, kidnappings and expeditions. I should love to hear a tale or two before bed."

Wolfgang wagged a finger at him and said, "Oh, no no no! You are not hearing a thing from us until we are hearing your story. Where do you come from, skinny man? My family once traveled over roiling seas to come to land of opportunity and prosperity! Wolfgang would like to hear of _your_ great journey, ya?"

Everyone looked to Warly with acute interest, Wilson included.

The man relented. "Ah, very well. My tale first, then." His meal finished, he set his plate on the ground beside the fire and began.

* * *

"When I first arrived, it was on a fine and sandy beach. At first I thought I had merely fallen asleep outside of my home and had some sort of terrible nightmare…"

"You lived by the sea, then?" Allena asked.

He nodded. "Yes, a lovely little home right on the shoreside. But a single glance was enough to tell me that I was nowhere within ten miles of my home. Nay, not within a hundred miles, for I had walked my sunny shores up and down for years, and had never seen a place quite like that. It was something in the air, I think." He paused, then said, "It was also immediately clear that I was somewhere unknown when I walk the coast for twenty minutes before coming back to the place I started."

Wilson perked up in interest at this. "An island, then?"

Warly nodded. "And a small one. Also, when I awoke, it was to a rather unpleasant surprise…"

"Let me guess," Wilson said drily. "A tall, pale man in a black suit telling you, 'say, pal, you don't look so good!'"

Warly scowled, but said, "No, actually. I did not meet him until much later on. It was a parrot that I woke to, and it squawked a few insults at me before flying off. Though it did mention that I ought to get around to building a raft fairly quickly…"

Hm. Another person who hadn't been deemed worthy of Maxwell's attentions. At least, not initially.

"It became apparent that a raft was going to be a necessity. The island had a handful of coconut trees, a few rocks coated in limpets, and a couple of crab dens, but not much else. I couldn't even catch the crabs, they were too fast for me. There were enough raw materials for me to make a few basic tools, however, so I was able to make myself a basic raft before my food ran out." He shook his head and said, "Thank goodness I took a 'shipwreck survival' course back home. It taught me all the basics of rope-weaving and first aid and such."

"It's good that you had some experience going in," Allena remarked. "I had a lot of supplies when I arrived, but no idea how to use them. Heck, I couldn't even make an axe without stealing one from Wilson to see how he did it."

"You stole from Wilson?" Warly asked curiously.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. Scariest thing I ever did, too. I've got to say, I'd rather face a hound pack singlehandedly than get on Wilson's bad side. I'd never been so afraid of another human being in my life."

Winona looked at her. "What'd he do to make you so afraid?"

Wilson glanced down at his feet. Allena had very kindly not mentioned the fact that he'd been forced to kill a man shortly after she'd arrived. He still recalled how dreadful he'd felt upon realizing the reason she'd hidden from him for two weeks. The memory of seeing her for the first time, sketching out his rabbit trap, trying to figure out how it worked, was still lodged in his brain. He'd almost laughed when she'd gotten her wrist stuck in that snare – it really had been a distinctly ridiculous sight – but he would never forget the terror in her eyes when she'd seen him approaching. She must truly have believed he was going to murder her in cold blood. And no wonder, after what she'd witnessed…

Now, as before, she shrugged the question off and declined to mention his history of bloodletting. "He always walked around with a spear, carried his weight in lumber, and slaughtered giant spiders for fun. What would I have done if he'd attacked me, huh? Beaten him to death with my iPod?"

Wilson, eager to see the conversation moved along, was glad when Warly resumed the story. "Well, I was able to make a raft, though it was hardly what you would call seaworthy. I barely managed to oar myself to the next island before it sank, though thankfully this island was somewhat more well-stocked than the first. Plenty of limpet rocks, bananas in the trees, and the wood was somewhat more buoyant and easy to chop. Were it not for the snakes and the monkeys, I might have stayed there."

"Snakes and monkeys?"

He nodded. "The snakes fell out of half the trees I logged, and I only made the mistake of attacking the monkeys once." He shuddered. "Filthy little cretins. They bombarded me with their…droppings…the moment I swung at one of them," he finished distastefully.

Wilson shuddered in revulsion. That would have driven him half-mad had he been subjected to it.

"There were too many of the beasts to allow me to rest easily, especially as they stole anything that was not nailed down. The snakes were venomous, and it only took one bite for me to learn not to take any chances with them. Had that island not held so many resources, I would have died that very first week." He breathed deeply and said, "The venom was vicious. I barely had time to stock up on food that first day before I was crippled. It took another two days to flush it out of my system, and by then I decided that I needed an island without so many snakes. I finished my raft, scoured the island for the last of the food, and set fire to the monkey's forest out of spite before I left."

"That seems a little harsh," Winona remarked.

"They left piles of dung around me while I laid writhing in the throes of the venom. It got on everything, and made me sick up twice as much as I should have."

"Oh. Okay, fair enough."

He nodded. "After I left that island it became a game of hopping from shore to shore, hoping to come across a safe haven, and eventually I actually came to a place I thought I could call home."

He sighed deeply, and it was difficult to tell if it was in reminiscence or sorrow. "Bountiful crab dens, limpet rocks, and mussel beds off the coast. A small herd of water-oxen in the mangroves on the far shore. A manageable forest for lumber, and the single den of monkeys I found I was able to clear out before settling down. There was an actual field of grass, if you can believe it! And a pond of fresh water! It seemed like the perfect place to build a stable base while I worked on finding my way home."

Wilson looked at Allena, who had a sad look in her eyes. It seemed that she, too, had sensed the foreboding in his voice.

Sure enough, Warly let fall the axe. "Then the hurricane season hit."

Wilson's eyes widened. He'd never experienced a hurricane himself, but who in the world hadn't heard of the Great Galveston hurricane?

Warly shook his head. "The winds began picking up about two months after my arrival. I had gotten the lay of the land, but I hadn't anticipated a windy season. Anything I left out threatened to be blown away, and my crab traps were often upended. Some were tossed out to sea. The nearby shoals of fish dispersed, cutting down on my food supply further. I managed to get some walls built around my base and I was even able to construct a simple chiminea. Then the rains hit. And after that…the lightning began."

Wilson got the sense that the man had been unable to construct a lightning rod beforehand.

"Many of my stable structures burned, even under the drowning rain, and I was forced near the end of the season to shelter under the trees most nights and pray that serpents did not fall on me as I slept. I was forced to eat snake meat, which is unlike that of any snake I have ever tasted back home, and made me sick if I ate too much at once. On days when it was fairly clear I could take a raft out and trawl the surrounding seas, and that would generally get me enough food to stay alive for a few more days. At the end of the season I was thin, but still vital." He nodded sharply. "I began rebuilding. I made it fairly far…then monsoon season began."

"What is this monsoon?" Wolfgang asked. "I am not familiar with the phrase."

"The monsoon means the wet season. Most of the island, she flooded. Many of my leftover supplies were washed away, as was my raft after a very bad storm." Warly took a dainty sip of water and went on. "The crab dens, they collapsed, but the shoals returned. Sweet potatoes sprang up like you would not believe, and I was able to fatten myself up a fair bit. I could not remain on the island, flooded as it was, so I left in search of higher ground and vowed to return once the waters receded." Then his eyes glinted. "It was at this point that I found…the sharkitten den."

Wilson blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I had been forced to hunker down during the hurricane season and work on my crafting skills, and I was able to craft some rather impressive weapons with the help of some rare materials I found whilst roaming the islands. I do not believe I was the only man ever to step foot on them, because I found a few nice things in my exploration that I am sure came from some more civilized lands. Among them…everything I needed to build myself some spears, as well as a harpoon."

He sniffed and went on. "They were quite the cute, cuddly little things, the sharkittens. Fluffy little tails, sleek orange and black fur, like the tiger. Their teeth, though small, were quite sharp." He licked his lips. "I was hungry. I killed them and ate them."

Allena frowned, but didn't say anything, and Wilson rubbed his lips to keep from smiling. He knew that Allena, who liked cats, would have difficulty with the idea of killing anything with 'kitten' in its name, and the kitten-eating man's bluntness was amusing.

"Their flesh was delicious, their fins doubly so. But I discovered, quite to my dismay, that the kittens had a mama-cat." He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, and said, "The Tiger Shark."

He leaned forward, and the fire cast flickering shadows on his face. "Never had I seen such a ferocious beast. fifteen feet tall with massive claws, and a maw like the shark! Rows of teeth! Bulging white cats' eyes! And its rage upon returning and finding its kittens cooked and in my belly – terrifying!"

He paused and said, "I of course harbored no idea of fleeing. What was my raft to that tall-finned menace? So much driftwood! And then me, dead in the water…no! I pulled out my spear and prepared for combat."

By now everyone was leaning forward, the excitement of the moment as catching as a plague. Warly's voice rumbled as he told the tale. "It leapt at me, claws extended, seemingly intent on killing me in a single blow. It did not anticipate my speed, though, and I was able to deal it a terrible wound when I ducked its claws and lashed out with all my might, slashing at its gut, twirling around, and lodging my spear deep in its abdomen! It reared away, and I thought it was going to retreat, but it lunged down at me in an effort to swallow me whole! I threw myself away from it, and draw my harpoon."

His fingers twitched as though he were grasping it even then. "It knelt down to clutch at its stomach, a fountain of blood, and I hurled the harpoon at its chest with all my might! It sank quite deeply, and the creature roared. My friends, have you even heard the roar of a large cat?" He paused for an answer, but receiving none he went on. "In my youth I went on safari, to hunt the great lion." He shivered. "Such a sound, my friends! Like thunder! Like guns! Like every New Year's Eve firework in the world going off all at once! And that was _nothing_ compared to the roar of the Tiger Shark!"

He heaved a short breath. "I was deaf for three days after that roar. But to my dismay, the beast was not yet felled. It brushed the harpoon out and stumbled after me, greatly slowed by the wound in its gut. I fetched my second spear and began the fight in earnest." He clicked his tongue. "The beast ought not have underestimated me. Had it treated me with caution, I would not be here to tell this tale. For had I not landed that first, crippling blow, I would surely have stood no chance. As it was, however, I was able to lead it around the island dealing small blows to it here and there, picking up my harpoon whenever possible and throwing it at the great beast again and again. I worked at its legs with my spear until it fell to its belly and began scraping across the ground towards me with its huge, curled claws. Once it was down, however, I was able to land the killing blow."

He puffed himself up and said, "It had me cornered against the sea. It was coming at me with all the speed and rage it could muster, even as it left a river of blood in its wake. But there, at the very end, I took hold of my harpoon. Just before it reached me, just before it swallowed me in one gaping bite, I threw the harpoon with every ounce of strength left in my body…and struck it straight in the eye."

Everyone oooh'ed, including Wilson. "Was the beast felled?" He asked.

Warly nodded. "Felled, indeed. It slumped to the ground, and as it did its unpierced eye rolled up into its head." He glanced around with a lighthearted glint in his eye. "But this is an unbelievable story, yes? Perhaps too much to take?"

Wilson and Allena looked at each other. After the Deerclops, nothing was too much to take, but they held their peace.

Warly took their silence as disbelief and said, "Allena, if you would be so kind, would you fetch that package you were so curious about earlier? The round one?"

Allena hopped up at once, curiosity all over her face, and she went over and rooted about in his supplies. She returned with a large, tightly wrapped orb. She handed it to Warly, who pulled at the strings until the wrapping was loose around the object. "Behold…the eye of the tiger shark!"

He pulled the wrap off with a flourish and held the eye out.

Even Wilson gasped. Though smaller by far than the Deerclops eye, it was altogether just as impressive in a way he couldn't quite explain. The thin black pupil seemed contracted in hatred. It glinted, ominous and colorful, in the light of the fire below and the moon above. If there were a hundred shades of white, they were all reflected here in this pristine and mystical orb.

They all stared at the eye, and it almost seemed to stare back at them. Then they all jumped back as the eye whirled suddenly around until the pupil was perfectly facing Winona.

"AH!" Winona yelped, falling back off her log with a flail.

Warly guffawed. The eye rolled around again, and this time Wilson saw that the man's arm twitched just a bit.

"Forgive me, my friends!" He cried in mirth. "The eye is so slick that it is easy to spin with little effort! I have been practicing that for weeks in the hopes of finding someone to use the trick on!"

He went on laughing as Winona sat up, scowling. He twirled the eye around a few more times, letting it land on each of them in turn, and pretty soon they were all…what did Allena call it? 'Busting up'.

Wolfgang nodded appreciatively. "Is good trick. And very good story. You are mighty hunter, it seems."

Warly nodded back. "It was certainly quite the encounter. I never found anything so large in my travels again, aside from one…something that will haunt me to my dying day." He set the eye back in the wrap and put it aside so they could all go on admiring it while he told the rest of his story. "It is the reason I decided to flee, to seek a new land, one where I was not surrounded by the water wherever I went. For I do not know if I will ever be able to set food upon a raft or boat again without suffering the sensation of impending demise."

Wilson swallowed heavily, then checked himself. This man really was a talented story teller.

The party was mellowed. Wes clasped his hands fearfully and looked at his fellow Frenchman questioningly, but Warly sat back with another sip of berry water, seemingly unconcerned with the dread he had just instilled in the group. A talented storyteller, indeed.

When next he spoke, it was with a casual tones of a man with nothing to fear. "I preserved the astounding amount of flesh the creature yielded, and along with the kittens I was able to make it through the rest of the monsoon season with plenty of rations left over. This was just as well, because following the monsoon season was the dry season."

He picked up a fork, inspected it, and began twiddling it idly in his hand. "Do you have dragoons here?"

Wes shook his head, still a bit on edge from the dire omens of earlier. Warly said, "Nasty brutes. Large as an ox, all covered in rough red and brown scales, and they leave fire in their wake. Big claws. Bigger teeth. During the dry season, their eggs rain down from the sky. If one of them hits you? Well, the least you can say is that it is…quick."

He tossed the fork up, caught it, and went on. "I would occasionally have crocodogs hound me at sea." He said this without elaborating, as though they ought to know what crocodogs were, but Wilson didn't bother asking. No doubt they were some sort of semiaquatic hound dreamed up by Maxwell to keep Warly and his like on their toes.

"Never more than two or three at a time," Warly continued. "And so long as I had some armor and weapons on hand – and maybe a trap or two – I would be fine. I actually brought a spider nest over from a neighboring island so I could have regular protection against the dogs once the nest grew. Ah, my poor arachnidian friends! They all drowned during the monsoons." He sighed sadly. "But the dragoons? Why, they took care of the crocodogs quite easily! Indeed, I hardly ever had to worry about them during the dry season. No, of greater importance was overheating. Ah, such a summer I never experienced, even back home! If ever I could catch a short nap in the shade, I was grateful. I created a lantern for my raft so that I could trawl by night, and such a diverse bounty I found in my nets! It allowed me to survive long enough to return to my old base. Before the volcano erupted and the dragoons turned the island into a veritable hell, that is."

He said this so calmly one might have thought he was talking about a trip to the grocery store. But Wilson could see the anger in his eyes, and he got the sense that he knew exactly what had caused it. Or rather, _who._

He took a deep breath and said, "After my triumph over the Tiger Shark, a man appeared. The man you mentioned, all dressed in black, looking as snazzy as Frank Sinatra."

Allena looked quite interested in this offhand comparison, and Wilson thought he knew why. Frank Sinatra, unless he was mistaken, was a singer not too far removed from her era. Clearly, this man was from a more modern time than most present company.

"I was delighted to find someone else…at first." His lip twitched in disgust. "But oh, I knew from the first decent look at him that this was not the kind of man with whom one made friends. 'Say, pal! You seem to have killed my cat!' he said. 'And her entire litter, too. What a heartless fellow you are!'" Warly spat on the ground. "Heartless! _He_ called _me_ heartless! Too much of an insult to bear, that was, once I learned who he was! I take it you all know of whom I speak?"

"Maxwell," Allena said quietly.

He nodded. "That is the name I was given. Maxwell. I will not go into great detail, but suffice to say he was impressed that I had survived so long. He said that he had clearly underestimated me, but that I had by then earned his attentions. He begged my forgiveness for not paying me proper heed."

His voice was dripping with contempt. "He told me that no one had survived so long in that morbid little archipelago. His words, not mine, mind you! He told me that he was quite excited to see how someone would fare in summer! Said he had something hot planned, just for me!"

He spat on the fire and exclaimed, "The moment I reached my old base, with just enough left over to make a decent start in preparation for the calm season again, fire rained down from the sky! It torched the entire island, destroyed my supplies, turned the sand to glass and the plants to ash!" He was positively bristling with anger. "And when I turned to sail away from that dire plain, which by then was seething with those foul, scaly creatures – the dragoons – who did I see but Maxwell, standing in the midst of the flames like the hellspawn he is, petting one of those great scary brutes as though it were nothing more than a Labrador!"

He allowed himself a moment to calm down before going on. "After that it was a great pain, rafting from island to island, never in one place for too long lest my camp be once again annihilated by dragoon eggs. I only had to face one in combat a few times – I learned quickly to simply destroy the eggs before they could hatch. The only good thing to come of the dry season was the abundance of obsidian, most of which I was forced to leave behind when I left."

"But why did you leave?" Wilson asked earnestly. "Surely once you understood the trials you would have to face in a given year, you could have used the calm season to prepare for the subsequent harsh times?"

Warly nodded thoughtfully. "I could have," he said while stroking his short beard. "Indeed, I could have. But I could not have. No. Not after what I saw that fateful day, the very first of the calm season."

His fingers slowed and stopped, falling to his lap. "Do not ask me how I knew precisely when the calm season began. I simply did. It was as though a sweet breeze had drifted across the sea and said, 'easy times are here. You may sleep deeply tonight, for tomorrow will bring no fire, nor water, nor cruelty of any kind.' It was sweet as honey, that breeze which swept away the cruelling heat."

He closed his eyes. When he opened them, there was an unreadable expression on his face. "But it was a _lie."_

His voice was toneless as he spoke on. "I was sailing for joy that day, ready to take advantage of the good times as I hadn't had the chance to before. Ready to prepare for the harsh months, eager for the challenge. That is when it appeared."

He looked off into the night, gaze and thoughts distant, and at last voiced the name of the creature that had filled him with such dread that it had overflown and seeped into the hearts of everyone present: _"The Quacken."_

Allena opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and asked, "The Quacken?"

No one looked quite sure of how to respond to that answer, but Warly merely nodded. "The Quacken. It was almost comical at first glance. Three great, staring eyes that looked perpetually surprised. The scales all down its neck looking just like the ruff of a chicken. And the beak, of course! The beak, and the sound that came from it! Why else do you think I would call it a Quacken, were it not for the fact that it squawked like the birds? Oh, yes, quite comical…were it not for the size."

His tone intensified, and he began gesturing wildly as he described the creature. "I reared up before me from the depths as I trawled the sea, looking down on me almost as though it were the one taken off-guard by my appearance! The mere head of the beast rose fifty feet out of the sea, each of its eyes taller than I am standing. And its tentacles…one would think, wouldn't they, that such a creature might be like the squid, and sport eight? Oh, no. They rose up out of the sea in scores. _Scores,_ I tell you."

Wolfgang leaned over to Wilson and asked quietly, "How much is score?"

"Twenty," Wilson whispered back.

Warly did not notice. "It was a beautiful creature, to be sure. Its scales glistened and shone in the light of day with all the purple hues of dusk, and the frill of fins about its face – as shear as a woman's nightclothes, and azure like the sea around it. Even its beak was a sight to behold, shined until the sun glinted on it like polished blue steel."

His eyes fluttered shut, almost as though he were recalling a long-lost friend. "It tore me from my raft, drew me close, and inspected me. The piercing shriek that rent my ears was in volume akin to the Tiger Shark, but high, like the call of the hummingbird."

His eyes opened and he said in a flat and vacant voice, "It threw me. Cast me away as though I were a skipping stone on the smooth waters of the lake at midday. When next I came to, I was washed ashore. Where? Why, on that same island upon which I woke when coming to this foul world. No parrot to greet me, no…but I felt as frightened and wrong-footed as though I were again new to this world."

He nodded deeply. "It was then that I knew I could not stay there. I could not share the sea with that beast, no matter how bountiful it may have been. I built myself a sturdy raft – the finest I had ever made – and with the bounty of that calm, calm season I gathered all that I needed for the voyage. I did not bring a trawling net, for trawling was what had upset the beast in the first place. No, I took all I needed and packed it up on the wings of my boat. As I exhausted my stores I cut sections of the raft off so that I would travel faster, and for three weeks I sailed. Some of the islands I passed almost seemed to call to me, offering shelter and plenty, no need to take to the sea ever again, but I knew they were merely ploys of Maxwell. They were meant to seduce me, like the song of the siren…and when I reached at last that wall of dire mist, I sailed into it headlong. And I did not look back."

He finished his berry water, draining the rest in one big gulp. "When I emerged from the mist it was into a far colder and crueler sea than I had known before, and I hoped that this was a sign of new lands to come. I saw a distant shore. I turned my sails towards it. When the storm blew in I suspected foul play, and when I saw Maxwell's face outlined in those clouds I knew that he had no intention of letting me reach the shore. He lifted the land away from me as I reached for it, and I thought myself lost." His voice strengthened. "Then I heard a voice calling from above. I could not keep hold of the stick that was lowered down to me, but never had I been happier to see the next lifeline that was offered to me, painful though it was. After all, I am French, and no Frenchman would turn down a nice, juicy frog when it is offered...even if it is a rather violent specimen."

Allena grinned sheepishly. "It was the only thing I had on hand."

Warly looked like he was quite alright with that. "It served marvelously. I climbed to shore on the tongue of a toad, and when I fell upon that sweet, sweet land, it felt like a warm and welcoming bosom."

Allena coughed. "Um. It actually _was_ a warm and welcoming bosom. You fell on me."

Wolfgang, who had been taking a sip of water, spat it out with a howl of laughter. Winona quite lost herself as well. Wilson rubbed his forehead in exasperation, and Warly blushed. _"Oh._ Ah, well, you'll have to excuse me. It was a bit difficult to see at the time…"

Allena waved him off. "It's fine. It all worked out."

Warly agreed. "Yes. I recall you lifting me from the ground, supporting me as we trekked through dire, thorny woods and over some vast, watery plain. Then all went black, and when I awoke it was to a kind and gentle hand holding my own, and a kind and gentle voice telling me that everything was going to be alright."

Allena's face turned furiously red, and Wilson, for the first time, found some humor in the situation. It was true that he'd been irritated by her spending so much time mothering the man, but heavens, the color her face turned when he described it…

Warly concluded, "And the rest, you know. So…tell me. What stories do you all have to share?"

The group paused. Then Wilson asked, "It may not quite compare to your Quacken, but would you like to hear the story of the Deerclops?"


	42. A Day to Reflect

Wilson's voice rang out in the still morning air, calm and serious. "Ready to pour."

Winona replied evenly. "Steady, clear."

"Pouring."

Following this quick exchange, one that they had all heard several times over the last three weeks, there was a light hiss as molten gold hit a cool surface and began to harden.

Wilson and Winona had been working steadily at the forge all day. Wilson was in need of a regular partner to help him churn out large numbers of various metallic implements for the Gateway, and Winona loved the smell of forge-fires in the morning, the heat of the flame, and the breath of the miniature bellows that kept the operation going.

Allena watched in mild interest as the glowing orange liquid fell smoothly into the small ceramic funnel. She'd been fascinated by forge work in the early days, when it was new to her and she'd never before seen metal reduced to liquid, but after two weeks of daily smelting the fascination had cooled to barest intrigue.

She occasionally asked about what they were doing, and she found that Winona was really the person to direct inquiries to. She was a lot better at relaying basic concepts than Wilson was. Wilson had a great deal of passion for the project, but passion didn't always lend itself to communication.

They were well stocked, both on crafting supplies and food. They'd gone on a tallbird hunt the moment Wolfgang had recovered, and although Allena would normally have left that to the men, she'd decided to tag along. She'd really wanted to watch Wolfgang kick the stuffing out those birds.

They'd gathered a ton of eggs and plenty of meat, and scattered the rest of the tallbirds to the winds in order to gain access to the gold they'd been nesting around. For the rest of the day she, Warly, and Winona had stood by and watched Wes, Wilson, and Wolfgang hack the boulders to pieces. They'd brought bags full of raw materials so they could work on crafting while the men did the heavy work. It was quite satisfying.

That had been a nice day. Upon their return, Warly had cooked them all a lovely tallbird-themed dinner with Winona's help (Allena had watched Warly boss her around until she was nearly pulling her hair out before advising that he tone down his teaching style. Warly had acquiesced only after Winona had reluctantly apologized for laughing at Allena the previous night over her fleeing from the first cooking lesson.). While dinner was being cooked, Wilson and Wolfgang had worked together to make their first piece with the gold. To everyone's surprise, it had been a beautiful gold-cast walking stick. Wolfgang had made the cane itself the previous day, and it sported carvings of rabbits, deer, and various other fleet-footed creatures. The handle had been the tusk that Wilson had hacked off the MacTusks that winter, and the handle and cane had been connected by a series of beautiful golden rings.

They had presented this cane to Warly as a welcoming present as well as a thank-you for the splendid feasts. He'd nearly been in tears from the warm welcome, and had tried the cane out at once. He'd been pleased with the results; he'd told them he felt faster on his feet simply holding the thing. And it actually _had_ seemed to Allena that he moved faster while using it.

Things had been going on well since then. Wilson and Winona had been hard at work at the forge, Wolfgang had been helping by chopping up the Treeguards and carving their remains into various pieces needed for the Gateway, Wes and Warly had been doing most of the food gathering, and Allena had been doing…everything else.

She'd been meaning to get down to visit Webber and ask if he could spare a few days to help her out around the bases, but she just hadn't had the time. Every day there was a long list of raw materials needed for continued construction of the Gateway, tools that needed crafting and repairing, work stations that needed cleaning, laundry that needed doing…

The result was that she was rushing about every day from dawn 'till dusk filling in the blanks of what was needed around the bases. She didn't mind in the least – everyone was putting 100% into the construction effort, and at the rate things were going Wilson expected that the Gateway would be complete by the end of the month.

Today, though, they'd come to the conclusion that they all needed some time off. Allena was finishing up repairing Warly's obsidian spear, Wilson and Winona were crafting the last few electrical doodads, Wolfgang was restocking their firewood, and Wes and Warly were both out fishing. Given how much they enjoyed that job, their vacation had pretty much already started. The rest of them were looking forward to finishing up their jobs and taking the rest of the day – and the next one, as well – off.

Allena in particular was looking forward to the free afternoon. She'd asked Warly for help whipping up a few surprises, and they'd managed to put together everything she needed. She intended to treat herself and Wilson to a pleasant evening that night, and for that she needed a few things. Ingredients for a nice meal, their best blanket and new travel tent, thermal stones and nitre…

Well, she had everything, and she intended to make use of it all tonight. She just needed an afternoon to set everything up, and Warly's help fixing the food.

She applied a bit of glue to the thin, sturdy rope she'd been making for the spear repair, tied off the end of it, and grabbed the obsidian spearhead. It was always warm and glowed faintly with streaks of orange, a stunning stone and nothing at all like real-world obsidian. She was resolved to take it home with them when they left. It would be a beautiful keepsake. For now, though, it served them best as a weapon. It was even sharper than their best flint.

She set the spearhead in the shaft – a new one she'd carved for Warly after his old one had broken while he'd been fighting off a spider in the Northwood – and carefully twined the tightly woven rope around it. She tested it out, felt a bit of give, and redid the knot a couple of times until it was perfect. Then she applied a touch more glue to vital points in the rope weave and gave it a good twirl.

Firm. Well-balanced. Excellent.

She smiled. That was the last of her jobs. She stood up, set the spear beside the lean-to, and wandered over to watch Wilson and Winona finish their own work.

Wilson was lifting the casing into which he'd poured the gold with a pair of tongs. He'd allowed the metal to set long enough, and now he dunked it in a tub of water.

_Tsssssssssssssssssss!_

It hissed and steamed, and after a moment he pulled it out, set it on the flat stone table he'd made for such jobs, and waited as Winona brought a hammer over and started chiseling the casing away. A few good cracks, and the item inside was revealed.

A single golden cogwheel, perhaps two inches in circumference, fell out and clattered onto the table.

Wilson nodded with satisfaction. "Excellent. Do you think that looks up to snuff?"

"Coulda come out of a factory. Nice work, brainiac."

"Much obliged."

Allena inspected the cogwheel. "I take it things are going well on your end?"

"Yup," Winona said. "Well as they can go. Still have a ways to go, but at this rate we ought to be able to start construction in another week or two. How's three weeks to home sound to you?"

Allena felt a thrill of excitement. She'd known what the goal was all along, but to have a serious timeframe on completion? Wow. They might actually get home.

 _Soon,_ no less.

Wilson snorted. "Oh, honestly. Let's be realistic. We'll need to run practice tests, we may end up needing additional materials, and even when we _do_ get the Gateway working there's no telling if it will take us home at all."

Winona shook her head at him. "You're just full of sunshine and joy, aren't ya?" She hocked up a thick loogy and spat it over the wall, causing Wilson to wince. He was a bit sensitive to Winona's more crass habits. "You know what would sober you up a bit? A nice, relaxing coupla days off. Help me put this stuff away so we can get cracking on that, hey?"

"I thought you enjoyed hard work?" Allena jibed. "I figured the next two days would be torture for you. Sitting around, napping and snacking and enjoying the lovely weather."

Winona punched her lightly on the arm before scooping up some tongs. "Oh, I like relaxing. I just like _earning_ my time off. And I've gotta say, after these last three weeks, I think we all deserve a breather."

She and Wilson carted the supplies off and stowed them, and once that was done Allena figured it was time to get moving.

Wilson had gone out to fetch a few tools from the other base earlier, and that had given Allena time to fill up Chester with most everything she needed without raising any suspicion. Now she grabbed his eyebone, along with her boomerangs and a shovel, and headed for the exit.

Wilson's attention was piqued when he saw Chester hop up to follow her. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" He asked. Allena had grabbed her boomerangs for a reason, however, and was able to give an easy answer.

"Boomerang practice," she said offhandedly. "And some silk weaving. Maybe listen to some music. I'll be back later."

Wilson's attention turned off at 'silk weaving,' and he didn't even bother asking about the other equipment. Ever since she'd told him what she needed all the silk for, he tended to avoid even risking the topic coming up again. Who would have thought someone with an extensive background in anatomy could be so squeamish?

"Hmm. I see. Well, have fun."

Winona raised an eyebrow at her, and she replied with a wink before taking off.

She'd ruled out Chester's clearing for what she had in mind. It was a lovely little place, but not far enough out of the way to ensure she they wouldn't be bothered. Any time anyone was heading to the beefalo fields or the tallfort, they tended to pass through Chester's clearing. Instead, she'd managed to scout herself out an even better spot. It was behind a small outcropping where the cliffs met the Vargwood, grassy and pleasant. What was more important was the small trail in the cliff she'd discovered while checking the clearing out. If you were careful, you could make it up quite a ways to a small, rocky ledge.

But she'd deal with all of that later. The first thing she did upon arriving was get to work digging a couple of small firepits. She didn't pull out her iPod as she worked; she only did that while she was in the base or on the plain, somewhere either in the open or highly safe and fortified, because it just didn't do to deafen oneself when you were out in the woods alone. She could easily miss a hound attack or other approaching threat if she wasn't careful.

She finished up on the pits, unpacked Chester, and started back to base. At the rate she was working, she would be ready to go hours before sunset came around. The days had been getting longer and longer, so there was so much more time to accomplish everything she wanted to.

As she walked through the woods she couldn't help but notice that it really was a stunningly nice day. Not too warm, not too cool, with a light, pleasant breeze. Everything seemed bright and clean from the rain they'd had a few days prior, and even the butterflies seemed to be relaxing, drifting lazily in the light, sunny wind.

She took a detour on her way back. She had a few more things to cart over, but she had plenty of time to get everything done.

She made her way to the clearing that had been named for her fuzzy orange companion, and as she walked across it she pulled the eyebone out of her pocket and smiled at it. The pupil rolled around to look at her then whizzed in cheerful circles for a few moments before stilling. Chester barked, and she sat down to pet him.

"Hey, buddy. Remember this place?" She asked him.

He hopped up and tried to lick her face, and she chuckled and scratched him between the horns. "I'll take that as a 'no'. That's fine. I mean, who would want to remember something like that?"

She certainly didn't. The sight of her lovable companion being torn in half still ate at her, and she tried not to picture it more often than she needed to. Still, this was a good time to work on mending that old wound. Her dog was back, and going by what she'd seen of his regenerative abilities, that wasn't going to change any time soon.

Still, how would she feel if it did? If she really lost Chester for good?

She pulled him close and regarded the bad memories, the old grief, carefully. He wiggled up onto her lap and butted his head against her chest, whining happily, and she leaned down to bury her face in his fur.

She'd had so many good times with him. It was easy to lose track of them in the face of a single painful memory; but the fact was he'd brought so much more joy to her life than sorrow. The pain of having lost him really didn't compare.

She decided that it would be painful, losing him. All the more so for all the good times they'd shared. But like Winona said about workplace injuries, it was an honest pain. A pain well-earned. Grief is the only logical outcome to love, and what was the point of living without love?

She kissed his head and stood up. She thought she could deal with losing him, though she would do anything in her power to prevent it. She remembered that pain. She didn't want to experience it again, not for him...nor anyone else; but the pain of grief was well-worth the joy of companionship.

She patted him on the head again. "Sorry about the detour, buddy. Ready to go home?"

He barked again, but as she started walking out of the clearing she noticed him pause and turn around. She inspected his eyebone to see that it was trying to look at something behind her.

"What is it, boy? What did you…oh! Hey Wes. I didn't see you there."

She'd turned around to find her white-faced friend standing across the clearing, hands in his pockets. Wes had, evidently, come looking for her. He folded his arms and tapped his foot, giving her a look that demanded her full attention.

Well, crap. She'd been trying to avoid a private conversation with him for three weeks. She'd hoped he'd have let go of his inquiry, but it seemed he'd just been waiting for a more opportune moment.

They stood in a standoff for about a solid minute. Then Allena asked, "So…anything you want to talk about?"

* * *

Wes smacked himself in the head and waved his hand around while giving her an exasperated look.

_Well, no duh! Of course I want to talk about something!_

Allena winced. "You want to know about the Maxwell thing, don't you?"

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

_Obviously._

She sighed. "Wes, it's really nothing. You don't have to worry about it…"

His hands flew out to either side of him in a questioning manner, the movement quick and frustrated.

_What do you mean I don't have to worry about it?_

He'd been doing nothing but worrying for nearly a month. Even since he'd overheard that conversation…

_Now, my dear, I cannot help but notice that you escaped my last debt collector. Whatever am I to do with you? It's almost as if you aren't awaiting the culmination of our little pact just as eagerly as I am. Surely you cannot wait for all this struggle and toil to be over? I assure you, it would be so much easier to just…acquiesce…_

It had sounded like they had made some sort of deal. And what Maxwell had said about a debt collector, acquiescing…had Allena made some sort of pact on her life? And if so, for what?

She sighed. "Okay, look. I made a bargain with Maxwell a while back. I owe him a sort of…"

She paused, clearly struggling to convey exactly what it was she owed him, and the expression on her face strongly suggested to Wes that she was trying to weasel her way out of telling him what it was.

She always blunted bad news.

He stomped his foot and walked up to her. He pointed at her, brought his hands across each other in a quick, crossed slicing motion, then tapped his ear and made a twisting motion with one hand as though turning a volume dial on a radio.

_You. Do not. Tone this down._

She opened her mouth, closed it, then bit her lip. "Wes…"

She looked at him imploringly and he relaxed his aggressive stance. He gestured to her with both hands, touched his lips, then touched his chest.

_You can talk to me!_

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with both hands. He gave her a minute to collect her thoughts, knowing that if she pushed too hard he would just push her away; and he couldn't do that. If she was in trouble and not willing to talk to anyone about it, who knew what might happen?

Finally she relented. "I owe him some…time. My company, I mean."

Time? Company? He recalled her mentioning that she'd had tea with him once, and even invited him to Christmas dinner. Was he after more of that?

He tilted his head, waiting for her to elaborate, and she did. "A while ago, I was injured. He helped me get back on my feet, and in return I'm supposed to spend time with him. You know, having tea, dinner, playing games, talking…that sort of thing. But I know he isn't going to be eager to let me go once he has me, so I've been trying to work on getting out of this world before he can collect. He may have sent the hounds and the Spider Queen after me to pressure me. You know, like a debt collector threatening to break your kneecaps if you don't pay up?"

His eye twitched at the comparison. It hit a little too close to home. Was that why Maxwell kept coming back?

He set aside his flare of agitation at the metaphor and asked her. He pointed off into the distance and straightened an invisible tie – someone not present, a man of class, Maxwell – then made several rhythmic tapping motions on his hand – repetition – then walked his fingers across his hand and pointed right down at the ground.

_Is that why Maxwell keeps coming back here?_

She paused, considered his question for a moment, then said, "Maxwell. Walking here…you want to know if that's why Maxwell keeps coming back?"

He nodded, and as usual was glad that she'd picked up on his question. He knew it was difficult for her sometimes, and he was grateful that she had such a keen intuition for his signs.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's probably why."

Then she got an absolutely wretched look on her face, like a dam shoring up a lake of dread had just sprung a leak somewhere inside her. When she spoke, her voice was high and frightened. "Wes, I don't know what to do. Telling everyone will only worry them, but if I don't do anything about this then Maxwell will just keep coming after me. He knocked you out before sending all those hounds after us, and if a single one had gotten into the base you would have been torn to pieces. Why?" A look of terrible contempt crossed her face, and she concluded, "Because I made a stupid deal."

He reached out to comfort her, but she stepped back. "The Spider Queen," she said bitterly. "The hounds. The Deerclops – Winona's base was destroyed, she had to spend months in those caves. The toads – Wolfgang was almost killed! And it's _all my fault."_

Wes's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. How could she think that?

"It is," she insisted miserably. "He keeps coming back for me. Because I riled him up. You, Wolfgang, Webber…everyone. Everyone has been hurt because of me. What if it's worse next time? What if one of you gets killed? Sometimes I wonder if…"

She trailed off and clenched her jaw, and Wes looked at her in alarm. Surely she wasn't about to suggest that she just…let Maxwell take her?

Wes reached out again, though he paused. She was standing back with her arms wrapped around her shoulders, looking slightly away. He knew body language. She was walling herself up, constructing barriers. She didn't want to talk.

He reached out anyways, putting a hand on one shoulder and turning her towards him. She looked up at him, and he could see that her eyes were wet with barely restrained tears.

He hugged her. He thought she was going to push him away at first, but then she pulled him close and pressed her face against his shoulder. She shook slightly as she began to sob, and he held her tighter. She sniffled and said, "I d-d-don't know if I can k-keep doing this. I know th-that it's possible that I'll lose one of you to s-s-something here in the Constant; but I c-can't lose you on account of a b-bad deal I made."

He patted her back and waited for her to finish crying. He'd heard the expression 'a shoulder to cry on', though he'd never anticipated being one. But Allena needed one just then.

He didn't mind.

Eventually she let go and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I'm just so scared, Wes. Who knows what he's is going to do next?"

At this, Wes clenched his fists. Maxwell. That dirty, no-good, rotten snake. Wes would show her exactly what he thought of him.

He popped up on the balls of his feet and began skipping around the clearing throwing punches. He reached out and grabbed that snarky, invisible bastard by the collar and rattled him, throwing a good right hook and thrusting a foot out in a good kick. Then he hopped up and down on his absent foe a few times, and—

He thought Allena was sobbing again for a moment, then he realized that she was doubled over laughing. He stopped, crossed his arms again, puffed up his chest, and looked at her defiantly.

_Oh, you don't think I can? Just watch me!_

One look at him and she was laughing even harder. Eventually she petered off, caught her breath, and said, "I know, Wes. I know you'll be there for me when I need you. In fact–" She wiped her face off and pushed back her hair. "–I know everyone will. And after everything Maxwell has thrown at us, I think we'll be able to get through another month or two just fine."

Wes plucked a small handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it and dabbed at her eyes. "Thanks, Wes. I'm worried about you guys – I can't help it – but I'll be okay. How couldn't I be, with friends like you?"

He smiled proudly, glad to have been able to cheer her up. He'd always taken great pride in his ability to cheer people up, whether it was a crying child in one of the many public parks of Paris, a fellow at the bus stop worn down from a long day at work, or a young lady who was clearly suffering from a broken heart. He'd always loved to be able to put a smile on an unhappy face, to bring just a little bit of light into a dark day.

Allena reached out and gave him one more hug. He picked her up and twirled her around, and as he swung her over Chester's head the chest-hound gave an impatient bark.

Wes set Allena down and she leaned over to pat Chester on the head. "Sorry, buddy. You want to head back?"

He barked again, hopped up and down a few times, and started off in the direction of the base. Allena laughed. "Yeesh, okay." She turned back to Wes and said, "I'm setting up a surprise for Wilson tonight, and Chester's helping me cart everything I need out."

Wes's eyebrows popped up in surprise, and he fanned his face as though blushing. What was she up to?

Allena's face turned beet red. "Ack, not that kind of surprise!"

Wes grinned and slapped his knee in amusement, and Allena groaned. "Honestly, you Frenchmen…" Then she got a mischievous twinkle in her eye and asked, "Though speaking of romance…how are you and Winona doing?"

Wes froze, then tugged at his neckline and shugged.

_What? Me and Winona? No idea what you're talking about._

She grinned. "Oh, come on. You like her, don't you?"

Wes laced his hands behind his back and looked down at his feet. How had she picked up on that?

Allena laughed. "Hey, maybe you could set up a nice little surprise for her, too? I don't know if she'd like the traditional stuff – flowers and candy and whatnot – but maybe you could do something else for her?"

Her tone was suggestive, and Wes looked at her sharply. He'd been trying to figure out how to impress Winona for weeks, but he just couldn't come up with anything. Did she have any ideas?

He asked her, pointing at her cautiously, tapping his head, and splaying his hands out questioningly. She hummed. "Well, between you and me, ever since she discovered that we have plenty of spider silk, she's been meaning to get around to building up a store of her trusty tape. She figured out how to make a glue similar to the one we have, and she uses silk to make really high-quality tape that she uses for a lot of her personal inventions." Allena nudged him with her elbow. "If you ask me, she'd probably appreciate a good store of the stuff. I can show you how to make it really quickly, if you'd like?"

Wes lit up like a Christmas tree. A store of tape that she could use for her projects? That would be perfect! He knew Winona liked building things. What better gift than something that would help her in her inventing?

He nodded excitedly, and Allena turned to head back to base. "Alright, come on then. Webber is dropping by later with an extra-big shipment of silk. Spider mama is still hungry and recovering, so we're trading him a ton of frog legs for it."

Oh. So that's why he and Warly had had to spend the entire previous day killing frogs.

* * *

Two hours later, Wes was sitting by himself in a small clearing in the Northwood with a bucket of glue on one side of him and a pile of soft white webbing on the other. In his lap was a long weave of silk, which he was steadily gluing and rolling around a small cut of pine branch.

He finished off another roll of tape and set it aside. He now had five, and he wanted to make a few more before bringing them to Winona.

Allena had shown him how to make the rolls before taking off to finish setting up her own plans for the evening. He wished the best for her – she and Wilson were a wonderful couple if ever he'd seen one. As for him, he had his own plans.

He really wanted to impress Winona. He hadn't quite plucked up the courage to let her know how he felt about her, but this ought to be a pretty good start. He would wait until another day to make a move, though – his mother had taught him that it was never a good idea to start a relationship with an extravagant gift. It made the lady feel pressured into accepting the proposal, as though the gift was payment for her permitting the advance. It was a subtle manipulation, the sort men often made without ever even realizing it. Kindly meant, but poorly thought out.

_Remember, mon petit coquelicot, the finest gifts you can give a lady are courtesy and respect. Oh, and laughter! If you can make a woman laugh, she is yours forever!_

He recalled that day with a twinge of joy and grief. She'd loved to sit on the window sill with him, brushing his hair and looking out at the fields of red and yellow and green. He missed his parents so, the old house they'd had in the countryside before the debtors came for it. The fresh air had always done wonders for his mother's health.

He remembered how she would sit on that sill and sing every day. She'd been a soprano, one of the finest soloists in France. His father had told him in private one day, after he'd had a few too many glasses of wine, that she'd dreamed of having a child whom she could teach to sing, and that she'd been terribly distressed upon discovering that her son – the only one she would ever have – had been born a mute.

Wes sighed as he brushed another layer of glue onto the silk. The revelation had saddened him so, and it was why he'd taught himself the art of pantomime. His mother had loved singing for people because it made them happy, so he'd learned an art of entertainment to do the same. His father had never been impressed, but his mother had been overjoyed the first time he'd performed for her.

He still remembered it clearly. Only ten years old, he'd been terribly nervous. It had been the night of the family Christmas party, all of their friends and relatives over for a Christmas eve feast, and he'd let her know that he had something to show everyone. She'd always led the family carols, and after she'd finished she'd ceded the floor to him. He'd rushed upstairs and gotten his makeup and outfit on, and he'd come back down and performed.

He'd done a hunting skit, to commemorate the trips he'd taken with his father. Canoeing behind the sofas, tracking the prints of small animals in circles through the carpet, fleeing from a flock of ornery geese – all tales his father had regaled them with earlier, retold in pantomime.

The most he'd been hoping for was a few laughs, maybe a bit of applause. How it had thrilled him to have all of his relatives – as the saying goes – rolling in the aisles! They'd adored his skit, and his mother had swept him up in her arms and danced with him around the room!

_Ah, my son! Where have you been hiding such talent?_

His father hadn't been terribly happy. But then, his father had never been a particularly happy man by nature. If Wes had been a disappointment to his mother, that was nothing to how his father had regarded him.

The man had hoped that, being unable to sing, his son would take to hunting and fighting and riding. He'd tried to teach him these skills, but alas, to no avail. Wes had been born not only mute but sickly, and had never been able to keep up with his father's high standards. The man had eventually given up on him, allowing him to dedicate his life to his art. He still thanked his father for the efforts, though – without them, who knows how he'd have fared in the Constant?

Wes set yet another roll of tape aside. That Christmas, his tenth, was to be the best of his life. It was at that point that his father found a new…hobby.

It was amazing how quickly the money could go once the head of house discovered the delights of gambling. After two years they could only just afford the costs of the parties that his mother had always loved to throw. Two years after that they had to cut down to only Christmas.

Two years after that, his mother had fallen ill.

It had begun with a mild cold. A bit of bed rest was all she would need, surely. But as the months had worn on, they'd realized that it was a fair bit worse than that. Wes had just kept assuming she would get better, but as the months wore into years he could no longer keep lying to himself. Nothing they'd tried had worked.

His father had stopped gambling. He'd done all he could for her. All the treatments and medicines in the world, however, had proven ineffective – and costly. Had they still had the wealth they'd had before, they'd have been fine…but it had all been lost in dark rooms full of swirling cigar smoke, all lost to brandy and cards.

They'd lost the house.

His father had decided that, being so much closer to the heart of the world, Paris would give her a greater chance at finding the help she'd needed. He'd managed to acquire a job in Parliament, enough to ensure that they could live in at least some comfort, but she'd never gotten any better. Only worse. So much worse.

_Say, pal. You look like you're having a bad day. Care to share your woes with a friendly stranger…?_

Father had called doctors in from all over the world – even a few from the United States. No one could give them a diagnosis, though.

Wes paused in his movements, the last roll of tape only half-done. He believed the darkest day of his life had not been the day he'd finally lost her, some fifteen years after that last perfect Christmas, but the day he'd learned that she could no longer sing. He'd been asking her on and off all week to sing him his favorite song, but she'd always come up with some excuse to avoid it. Finally, she'd taken his hand and smiled sadly at him.

_Ah, my son, I cannot. My voice, she has flown away like the birds of summer fleeing the chill of fall. Will you forgive me, mon petit coquelicot? Will you forgive your mother if she cannot sing for you any longer?_

He'd smiled at her and nodded, and she'd looked so very relieved. It wasn't until later, when the drugs had lulled her to sleep, that he'd gone somewhere private and wept.

Of course, the birds of summer, gone away with the fall, always returned with the warmth of a new spring. She'd regained her voice just long enough to sing him one last song.

_Chante, rossignol, chante,_   
_Toi qui as le cœur gai;_   
_Tu as le cœur à rire,_   
_Moi, je l'ai-t-à pleurer._   
_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime,_   
_Jamais je ne t'oublierai…_

He could scarcely even remember the tune anymore, and he didn't know the song's name, but he still remembered at least a few verses.

He resumed wrapping the last roll of tape. It had been right after the funeral that Maxwell had appeared to him, standing beneath a jet-black umbrella as the rain fell straight out of the sky in a steady, quiet stream.

_Ah, not much of a talker, then. But you have the air of an entertainer, I can see it in your face! Are you an entertainer?_

_I always loved those fellows who could do the balloon animals at the carnival. Never could get the grasp of it myself. Can you do balloon animals?_

He'd produced the little black bag of balloons and tossed it to him. Wes, desperate to make someone happy even if his own joy had fled like the birds of summer, had obliged without hesitation.

_Why, look at that! Not bad, pal. Not bad. Say, I know a place that could use an entertainer…a few people who could do with some cheering up!_

_Whaddaya say, pal? Care to come for a ride? Cheer a few people up?_

_You won't regret it…_

He'd woken up in that wilderness, afraid and confused and abjectly miserable, and it had been months before he'd run into one of those promised people who needed cheering. Now, as he tied off the last roll and stood up, he smiled. In spite of all the old wounds, he smiled.

Maxwell had been honest about one thing.

He didn't regret a minute of it.

* * *

Winona was leaning against the wall of the base with a sketchpad, drawing up the design for a catapult. She figured if another monster like the Deerclops or the Treeguards showed up, they would need a few good weapons to stand a fighting chance. The cliffs behind them would be just fine for rocks, and unless she was mistaken she ought to be able to use Wilson's lightning rod and some spare gold wiring to make a decent battery to help with the propulsion system. She'd just need a few more lightning storms…not that they were scarce. Woo, man, had they had a few close calls. She was amazed that nothing had burned down.

As she finished up one of the force equations to the side of the illustration she heard someone approaching. She clicked her tongue and willed them to go away, but no-go. Evidently her blueprinting would have to wait.

Wes rounded the corner, and her irritation lessened. She liked the oddball, and always had a good time figuring out what it was he was trying to get across to her. "Hey, Wes. How's life treatin' ya?"

Wes smiled, though she sensed that it was just a bit off. He wasn't quite his normal, perky self that day. Still, he gave her a thumbs up and held out a small bag.

"Eh? Watcha got there?" She asked curiously. Wes always seemed to have some odd tidbit to show her, from bee stingers to mushrooms. And his balloon animals, of course, of which she received at least one a week. She wondered if he would ever run out of them.

Now, as he held out the bag, he looked like he might just burst with excitement. Whatever it was, it must have been good.

"Alright, let's have a look. What…" She took the bag and looked in. Initially she frowned in confusion upon seeing the bundle of strange white cylinders, but when she picked one up and examined it she gasped. "No way! Is this…?"

She tugged a piece of tape off and Wes nodded happily. It was a bag full of tape. Good tape, too, if she wasn't mistaken.

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and said, "Where'd ya get all this, hey?"

He patted his chest and mimed out the silk pressing, brushing of glue, and winding of the tape. Looked like he'd made it himself.

"Well, no kidding! How'd you learn that? No, wait, let me guess." She wagged a finger at him before he could answer her question. "Allena told you, huh?"

He looked bashful and nodded, and Winona tossed the roll she was holding in the air and caught it before dropping it back in the bag. "That's just about exactly what I needed. I've been working on a new design all day, ya see? And man will it need a lot of tape. And wood. And rope. But mostly tape. And wood. Want to take a look?"

He nodded enthusiastically. He was always enthusiastic about her ideas, though for the life of her she had no idea if he understood half the things she told him; torque, pushback, friction, et cetera et cetera.

That said, his eyes were always sharp and his expression intrigued. If there was one word she could use to describe Wes, it was attentive. That big guy, though – Wolfgang? Mind always half on something else. The second you were done talking to him, he was off to the next thing. Wilson, too, come to think of it. Always thinking of his next invention. She could respect that, but boy did it make it hard to get involved in a conversation with the guy.

"Alright, so I'm thinkin' that if we can get a coupla catapults set up around the base, it would be easier to defend if Maxwell throws another Deerclops at us or something. Shouldn't take too long to build, either. A good investment of time, you know?"

He agreed. Then he pointed to her, pointed at the sketchpad, pointed at the sun, and made two big, consecutive circles in the air.

She worked on that one for a sec. "Uhh…let's see. Two days, my sketchpad…oh! Is this what I'm planning on doing with all my time off?"

He nodded.

She shook her head. "Nah, just wanted to spend a while brainstorming by myself. Not that I'm not happy to see you!" She added hastily as he got an embarrassed look on his face and stood up to leave. "I'll finish it up later. But other than this I've gotta get around to having that… uh…meeting with Allena."

She wasn't about to say the words 'tea party', but apparently she didn't need to. Allena must have mentioned it to Wes along with the tape, because he got this sappy, happy little smile on his face and mimed pouring a cup of tea.

She snorted. "Yeah. That."

He clapped his hands excitedly and she lightly punched his shoulder. "I'm not a tea party kinda gal! I just made a promise, and I don't intend to go back on it!"

To be honest, she was kinda curious. She'd never been invited to anything like a formal tea party, having always been a tomboy, so she figured it ought to be fun giving it a try. Tea, tasty little finger foods…whatever else a tea party entailed. Was she supposed to bring something? Do something? She sure hoped not.

Wes shrugged, still smiling, and gave her a polite wave before retreating backwards. He nodded to her sketchpad and turned to go.

That was another thing she liked about Wes. He popped up often, but he could tell when she wanted some alone time. He wasn't clingy. That was nice. "Yeah, I'll get back to it. See ya later, alligator."

He turned back, ticked his fingers clockwise, then made a big jaw with his arms and snapped them closed.

_After a while, crocodile!_

She laughed. "Yeah, yeah."

Once he was gone she tried to get back into her blueprint, but she was pretty well distracted by that point. Not that she blamed Wes – the bag of tape offered way too many possibilities for her to be irritated with him. Still, her mind was elsewhere.

It was really amazing how quickly everyone had accepted her into the group. She'd been expecting suspicion, demands, short tempers – instead she'd gotten open arms. And tea parties.

She snorted again. That Allena kid. What a girl. No wonder Wes had traveled all that way to try and find her.

She smirked every time she remembered that first weird meeting. The first person she'd met in the Constant, and what a strange one to come across. She'd been worried at first, seeing that tough lookin' oddball strolling around her cave with his giant bug monster, but it hadn't taken her five minutes to have him pegged as a softie. The guy wore his heart on his sleeve.

That Wolfgang, though? Man, what a guy. Really took his whole 'mighty' schtick to the max. Still, she supposed he'd earned it. Even workin' in factories for so long, it wasn't often you came across a guy quite as ripped as that.

She started pulling out the rolls of tape and inspecting them to make sure they were uniform. Wes had done a darn good job on 'em, and sure enough they were all high quality. She was looking forward to whipping up some new gadgets with 'em. She would need to keep them away from Wilson, though. She didn't quite trust him to mind his fingers when it came to nifty crafting materials. He was always looking for new resources to turn into useful junk.

That guy was a brain, but she had to admit – she was pretty wary of all that magic crap he kept mentioning. Sure, she knew there was something odd about this wacky little world, that things didn't always make perfect sense – Wes blowing helium balloons, for instance – but come on. Magic? And he talked about it like it made perfect sense!

Frankly, it offended her at times. Whenever he got too far into the topic, she just tuned out and waited for him to start talkin' straight again.

Speaking of Wilson, she wondered what he was getting into tonight. She knew Allena had something planned for the two of them, and that it was gonna be pretty far from the base, so she figured odds were good that he was gonna have a _very_ nice night indeed. She'd be sure to ask Allena about it later. Maybe at the tea party.

Allena. That girl was gold. Always chipper and happy, even when she obviously wasn't happy. Always offering to help out with everyone's work, even when she had a million things to do herself. Always had a kind thing to say, a bit of encouragement, and above all, she always seemed to see the best in everyone.

It reminded her of Charlie.

_I'm staying here until I can rescue my little sister._

_Yeah, of course. We'll figure out how to get her back to normal…_

_I want to make sure everyone gets out of here okay._

She honestly hadn't believed it when she'd said it – Allena, offering to stay behind and help her rescue Charlie. She thought it had been an offhanded comment. But she'd talked to Wilson about it earlier that week, and he'd assured her without a second thought that they would all pitch in to save Charlie.

Frankly, she still hadn't believed him. She'd lost her temper a bit, asked him why in the hell any of them would be willing to commit to that. He'd looked surprised. And what he'd told her had stuck with her.

_Allena wouldn't be able to leave knowing that she'd left someone behind. Especially if that someone was someone else's little sister. I daresay the mere idea would break her heart. No, she'll stay – and if Allena stays, I stay._

He'd then clarified that he could hardly speak for the others, but after seeing the kind of connection they'd all forged here, Winona was willing to bet an arm and a leg that this was a group that would stick together, no matter what.

She yawned, wide and long, and decided it was time to get up. Some time off was one thing – but a nap? Ugh. There were so many better things to be doing with her time.

She looked over her blueprint as she dusted her overalls off. She had a decent working design. She could probably run it by Wilson.

Then again, she got the sense that Wilson wasn't going to be crazy about starting a project that didn't have anything to do with the Gateway. Wolfgang, on the other hand…

She looked towards the other base. Odds were good that the big guy would be in there carving away at some new bit of furniture or something. She would probably need his help making a few of these pieces, seeing how he was just about the best wood carver she'd ever met in her life.

Yeah, she'd go talk to Wolfgang.

* * *

Wolfgang sat whistling a very old tune. The sort of tune that his mama loved to whistle while she worked on the shoes.

He, of course, was not working on shoes. No. He was working that day on chairs. He'd only finished two by then, though the remaining four were well on their way. He'd cut back on the detail work to ensure that they would all get comfy chairs fairly soon.

That said, he did have some standards. He was working, just then, on the backrest of the chair of their newest guest, the skinny chef. Warly. On it were many fruits, vegetables, fishes and birds. Also steaming bowl of soup right in the middle, all the ingredients clustered around. Looked nice, he thought.

As there were so many chairs to be made, he was only doing the backrests and the ears in nice carvings. Everything else was…utilitarian.

He shuddered at the word, and felt brief disgust. When he'd first learned that new English word, he'd despised it. _Utilitarian._ It was a word that spoke of flat, grey walls that kept people trapped in their flat, grey lives. It spoke of tables that were flimsy boards and matchstick legs, beds hardly more comfortable than solid stone floors, and meals that were so much food for rats. It spoke, in short, of a life he'd known only briefly…after his family had been forced out of old home.

In his younger days he'd worked the farm with his grandparents, as parents had believed it built strong character as well as strong body. Then grandparents had passed away, and he had joined military, which made him even stronger. Not for very long, though. Only two years, mostly training, then father had pulled him out because government had been…what had he called it? Oh, ya.

'Suffering from severe case of indecision.'

To be honest, he was a bit too young to recall exactly what were the circumstances of their leaving – only that it was 'that damn Kamenev's fault'. He still remembered how his father had blustered and raged over some sort of great betrayal. He recalled a violent revolt, of wanting to fight but having to stay huddled in his basement, and all the time his father muttering about that damn Kamenev. That damn Kamenev.

Well, not too long after he went and talked to that damn Kamenev, and when he came back home he said in his most happy, booming voice,

_Get dressed, my children! We are moving!_

Wolfgang's little sister, Asenka, had asked them where they were going, and he'd said,

_The land of opportunity! Of freedom!_

_America!_

His sister had been excited, but Wolfgang had hardly believed his ears! America? Was America not a land of greedy pigs, of the rich living off the backs of the poor? Yet his father had insisted that they would be happier there. A great adventure it would be, he'd told them. But first they needed to get to the coast.

It was that single month that had taught him of 'utilitarian'. For his family, wealthy and well-to-do in those days, was subjected to the most dreadful trip imaginable. He'd asked his father, could they not afford better rooms? Better food? Better treatment? The places they passed through…they must surely have hit every slum in the country! He'd wondered whether those dingy little towns were even part of the glorious Union!

His father had told them that all the money had gone into the tickets for the ship. The tickets…and their new American passports. Wolfgang had not grumbled, had not complained, had not even frowned. Never in front of Asenka. But he had not been happy.

Still, surely the ship would be something grand! He'd asked to see his new passport as well, but he'd been told that it was in his father's old suitcase, the brown one with the little golden locks on the top. Not for looking at.

He'd been confused. Would they not need passports to get aboard the ship?

They had not. And it hadn't been a very good ship, either.

It was when his father told them that they would be staying in the cargo hold that he had begun to question whether they'd gotten good deal on the tickets. As they'd been heading towards the loading dock, he'd suddenly been gripped with terrible frustration. Two weeks of pigslop, hard beds, nothing to look at! And the cities – they stank of fish and offal! As soon as his mother had seen his sister onto the ship, he'd taken aside one of the sailors and asked him why such wealthy family as his had to be stowed away in the foulest harbor in the Soviet Union.

The sailor had been baffled. He'd told him it was one of the finest in the country. Wolfgang, naturally, had scoffed. He'd told him of the dreadful accommodations, the food, the slums. He'd asked how they'd managed to travel through the worst the country had to offer. He still recalled the sailor's shocked words.

_Worst? It is like this everywhere._

Wolfgang had dismissed this. How could it be true, when he'd lived in luxury all his life? If his family, who farmed and made shoes and wrote papers, could afford such finery as he'd been used to – why in the world should everyone else not have the same?

Another two weeks of cold rations in the cargo hold and he'd taken his first breath of American air. He'd not known what to expect…but by then, he had not cared very much. His father would take care of all the people they had to deal with, and he, Wolfgang, had only to take care of his mother and sister.

He'd not had the highest hopes upon stepping out onto that new port, but his sister? Why, she looked to him for everything, so he had done as it is big brother's job to do. He'd picked her up, put her on his shoulders, and strolled off the ship with a smile as great as the day is long! Told her there was nothing to worry about, that this was America! Land of opportunity, land of the brave and the home of the free!

Or some such thing. He had not paid much attention in history class. At least was not like other fellow who shared ship with them – land of the home and the free of the brave, indeed! Worse English than Wolfgang's!

At any rate, they had gotten off of ship together, as family, and much to Wolfgang's surprise there had been two very American-sounding men in very American-looking suits waiting to welcome them. They had not said very much. Just:

_Yeremy Ferh?_

His father had nodded, stepped forward, unlocked the briefcase and handed it to them. They'd opened it, looked through it, and his father had asked them:

_So? Are we Americans?_

Wolfgang had known that if the men said 'no', they would be right back on the ship home. The men had combed through the papers in the briefcase very carefully, for several minutes, and for the first time in Wolfgang's life, his father had looked…scared.

Then the men had nodded and said,

_Your country thanks you for your service._

The men had handed them all envelopes with shiny golden seals on them. These contained all of their citizenship papers. And like that…they had become Americans.

Wolfgang had never asked what was in the briefcase. He had never asked what that damn Kamenev had done. And he had never asked why a month of bad beds and pigslop had cost them the family fortune!

Oh, how happy his little sister had been when their father had handed her the lovely envelope with the shiny golden seal. She had never minded moving away from their big house in the city. She had adored this new land, this _America._ She had adored their little home in California, despite it being far too hot and far too sunny. Wolfgang did not think he ever saw her cry once…at least, not until he had come to her and told her that he was joining circus.

Oh, had she cried then! But alas, Wolfgang had learned that one had to work hard to be successful in America, and he did not know what work was good work for him there. Chopping wood, plowing field, carrying stone…was fine to put food on table, but did not pay enough. His family made shoes, did well, but his great fingers were too mighty for this delicate job.

At any rate, he had wanted to get out and see his new country!

He had not intended to be gone for long. A few years at most. Every penny he'd earned he'd sent back home to parents for Asenka's schooling, always with lovely little postcards from all the cities and towns, and little toys for little sister. He recalled receiving, only once, a letter back from her. Was hard when the circus moved so much to get mail, but they managed from time to time.

He had just about burst with pride to see letter! Her handwriting had been beautiful, her English perfect! He'd shown it to all his friends in circus, and they'd all been very proud as well. Circus was like family – one little sister was everyone's little sister.

Then their circus train had crashed.

He still remembered this with frustration, and some sadness. All the animals – dead! All his friends – dead! His ringleader – dead!

And Wolfgang?

Ought to have been dead, yes, but then he hears voice. Snaky little voice from snaky little man, asks him if he maybe is wanting to see his sister again?

That was only part for which he was sad of dying. Death? Bah! Nothing to mighty Wolfgang. Heaven or hell, he would be fine in either. But…did not want to leave little Asenka alone, not after he had promised to come home to her. Voice had offered to keep him alive, had said maybe, in time, he would find his way home to sister.

Wolfgang had accepted offer. Now Wolfgang was stuck...in Constant.

Snaky man was Maxwell, of course.

His hands had been steadily working at the backrest of the chair for the last hour. It was just about done. He only needed to—

"Hey, big guy! How's it going?"

He looked up to see the new woman, Winona, approaching him.

"Is good!" He replied. "Working on skinny man's chair. How it looks?"

He held it out for her inspection, and she whistled. "Not bad for a guy with big, meaty fingers! Honestly, I can't help but wonder how you do that."

Wolfgang shrugged. "Eh, took long while to learn. Had patient teacher. Once carved beautiful little hummingbird for little sister."

"Did she like it?"

Again, Wolfgang shrugged. "Do not know. Sent it home from circus. Came here to Constant before hearing back from her."

Winona gave him sympathetic look. "Sorry to hear that. Must be rough. Do you ever worry about her?"

Wolfgang's mustache bristled, and he said, "Worry? About sister? Never! Brightest, finest, most lovely little sister in the world! Was just fine without Wolfgang there, and had best parents you could ask for. No cause for worry."

Winona raised an eyebrow at him, and he relented. "Ah, well, not worry…but maybe miss her a bit. Only sometimes."

Winona nodded. "Yeah. I hear ya. It's hard to leave family behind." She frowned for long moment, then said, "Hey, I came to ask ya – do you think you might have time to do some extra wood carving for me one of these days? I want to work on a catapult."

At this, Wolfgang got interested. "Catapult? Flings big rocks at monsters, yeah?"

"Yeah. Think you can help me with it?"

Wolfgang stood up and set chair back down carefully. "Tell Wolfgang what you need – will be happy to help! But how are we making this, eh? Catapult…must take many little moving parts. Is brainy man telling us how?"

"Wilson?" Winona scoffed. "Nah, he's too busy with the Gateway. Nothing wrong with that, but if something bad comes our way…"

Wolfgang shuddered. He was not liking monsters. "Yes, is maybe good idea to prepare for bad things. Let Wolfgang see what you need, ya?"

Winona held out little sketch to him, and he examined it with much interest. "Ahh, strong woman has very big brainmeats! Strong, smart – just like Wolfgang! Are you sure we are not related?"

Winona coughed heartily into her hand. "Uh, yeah, no. Don't think so. Anyways, ya think you can build that puppy?"

"Is easy! Will start as soon as chairs are all finished. Shouldn't take more than…two days? Is okay?"

Winona nodded. "Is okay. Say, you makin' me one of those nifty chairs?" She looked around curiously.

Wolfgang scowled at her. "Is surprise! You are not looking until is done. Now, move along! Have to start on brainy-woman's backrest."

"Ha! Alright, I'll let you get back to your woodworkin'. Talk to ya later, big guy."

"Am talking to you later, little woman."

She left. Wolfgang picked up cooking man's backrest, whittled off last few tiny problems, then looked at it. At the fishies and the fruits, and at the subtle curve of wood for cradling shoulders, at all the details and nice shapes.

He nodded contentedly. Was plenty, comfort, and beauty, all in one.

Looked nice.

* * *

_Thwack! Thwack!_

_Chipchipchipchipchip—_

_Tssssssssssss!_

Warly listened to the music of the kitchen. The cleaving of meat, the chopping of crisp vegetables, the frying of nice things in butter in the skillet. These things, they soothed him.

He had imagined that the sea would leave scars on his soul to match the scars on his skin, but to his delight he found that his fears and frustrations had melted away like the butter in the pan. They had lasted no longer than it had taken him to recover, and under the care of his new friends, that had not been long at all.

He had fallen into life amongst the other survivors as easily as he could have dreamed, as though a place had been set out for him months and months in advance, like a table at the finest restaurant in France. They'd all tended to his wounds and needs, shown him the bounty that this land had to offer, and appointed him – glory of glories! – their head chef.

Oh, how he had missed cooking for others! For himself was one thing – one needed something to keep the spirits up in this dreadful wilderness – but what was the point of making nice things if they were only for the maker? None at all, he thought. He had always held firm to the words of Cook from DiCamillo's T _ale of Desperaux._

_There ain't no point in making soup unless others eat it. Soup needs another mouth to taste it, another heart to be warmed by it._

He chuckled lightly. A silly children's story, but one that had always warmed his heart. Stories were like soup, in a way. They needed another ear to hear them, another heart to be warmed by them. He loved telling stories almost as much as he loved making soup.

That was what he was making just then. Soup. And this was no normal soup – it was the finest soup he had yet attempted here in the Constant. It had to be, for this soup would serve a very special purpose. Dearest Allena had asked him to make something spectacular, something that she could surprise Wilson with that evening for dinner. A private dinner, just for the two of them. A private dinner, and a private soup. Just enough for two.

He was used to making such a quantity. Enough for two.

Warly sighed deeply, but kept his chin up. Allena had told him some weeks ago about the time discrepancy, how time seemed to pass so much faster out there than it did here. That said, after what he had put forth they wondered if that held true all the time. For he had vanished a mere year before she had – in the year 2018 – and it seemed that time had passed linearly. A year in here for a year out there.

He prayed that this was the case. He needed to get back to his maman.

His hand stuttered only briefly as he shook the salt into the simmering pot of broth. Ah, maman! He had vowed always to be there for her, for the times when she returned to him. Now…gone. For a year, a year at least, likely closer to two.

He was still so terribly confused as to how he'd come to be in the Constant. The others all shared stories of bargains made, tricks played, offers accepted. But him? What had he been doing aside from listening to the radio, gathering his cooking supplies for a trip to the local community kitchen? He'd set a couple of hours aside for a volunteer cooking lesson for the local community – though it was just as well that he'd never made it, given how terrible a teacher he'd proven to be for the untrained – but before he could even make it out the door, he'd…

He frowned as he added another pat of butter to the skillet and shifted the mushrooms around. What had happened, exactly? One moment he'd been twiddling the dial on the radio, looking for something to soothe his dear maman. He'd discovered some sort of upbeat, old-time tune, the sort that she may have jived along to in her youth, and he'd settled on that. Then he'd picked up his supplies and made for the door. The last thing he'd recalled was that the music had turned sour…so, so sour…

He shook his head. Just recalling the way the melody had curdled still gave him a mild headache. He hoped it hadn't upset his maman.

Warly knew that she would not have perished without him there. She got enough visitors that his disappearance would have been noticed very quickly, and a new caretaker would have been appointed to her promptly. He'd set aside funds just for such a thing in the event of his sudden demise. It was the least he could do for his dear maman, and he thanked God each and every morning on waking that he had thought to do so. She would be well cared for…for the rest of her life.

But how long would that be? The doctors had been fuzzy on the estimates, to say the least. Some had said she ought to have died years ago, others that she may last another decade. Quite rationally and unscientifically, he'd decided to average out all the estimates and had come to the conclusion that she would live for four more years – until the year 2022. But how long had he been gone? How much more time did that give him?

He prayed he would have enough. Enough to see maman at least one more time.

She had been the one to instill in him a love of cooking. She'd made him the finest dishes one could hope for, and she'd laughed herself to tears when he'd told her he was going to Paris to take professional classes. She'd never had any, after all – she'd taught herself to cook. She'd seen no reason that some fancy-schmancy fellow with a tall, silly white hat was required to teach her Warly how to cook.

Oh, he'd been so angry with her! She simply wouldn't let up, nothing he'd done could convince her that those lessons were just the thing for him! He hadn't talked to her for two years after that. Not until he'd returned home and insisted that they have a cook-off for the whole family – to prove whether or not the lessons had been worth it.

He'd put everything he'd had into that meal. He'd made half a dozen different dishes, all of highest quality and best presentation, all served with the finest wines he had brought back from the city! And maman? She had made her famous mussel bouillabaisse.

Now, most people to whom he told this story guessed the ending. 'Let me guess! All your high-end cooking lessons were for naught! Your maman, her recipe outdid your own, eh? You were humbled?'

Well…no.

And when he told them this, he always had to hold back a laugh as they switched tact at the speed of light. 'Oh, then it was your maman who was bested, and she learned that she shouldn't judge too harshly those who go out in the world to pursue its knowledge!'

Still…no.

The truth was that the meals were both stunning beyond compare. It was not so much that he had learned to make better food, he had simply added a few new recipes to the roster. In his mind, though, it was always her dish that won out – for it was over the bouillabaisse that they finally reconciled. Nothing could rekindle the love of family quite like an old recipe.

He sprinkled a generous helping of basil into the soup – one of the herbs he'd been able to grow in their new garden – and turned around to fetch the mushrooms from the skillet.

He froze. There was a stranger standing in the base. He had crept in quite silently and quite suddenly, and he was standing beside the fire staring at the chef with his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

Also, he was completely covered in thick black hair, and had what appeared to be two sets of spider legs sticking out of either side of his head. Also, four sets of eyes on his face. And, very large fangs.

Warly swallowed heavily, but his mind had quite stalled at the sight of this terrifying new addition to the camp. What…?

Then the stranger spoke. "Hello. We are Webber. We do not know you. Are you one of Allena's friends?"

Warly smacked his forehead. Of course! Had Allena not told him so many times of their spidery friend, this Webber? He'd dropped by several times, from what Warly was told, but the two of them had always seemed to just miss each other. Well, that was clearly not the case this time.

"Ah, yes!" He said, quickly regaining his tongue. "Yes, indeed. Forgive me my temporary befuddlement. I am Warly." He bowed slightly at the waist and said, "And you, naturally, must be this Webber of whom Allena has spoken so fondly. It is a pleasure to meet you."

The spider-boy looked quite surprised, if the widening of half his eyes was any indication. "Allena talks about me? Says nice things?"

Warly nodded. "Oh, yes. The nicest. She says you once saved her from a dreadful beast called the Deerclops, that you aided her in the making of that flowhive out there, and that you are personally responsible for the wealth of silk to which we always have access! It also comes to me, though she has not said as such overtly, that you are quite the kind and pleasant soul. Indeed, she has nothing but good things to say about you."

If Warly had wondered about the approximate age – or at least mental maturity – of this Webber fellow up until then, his wonders were answered right there. Webber began hopping up and down all in a joyful tizzy, a wide smile on his face, squealing, "Kind things! Good things! Allena thinks I am brave and kind! And she tells everyone! Oooh, yay!"

Warly watched this in fascination for a moment before realizing that the mushrooms were still cooking. He hopped back into his work, scooping the skillet up and dumping the contents – mushrooms, butter, herbs and all – into the pot.

Webber began making a very strange clicking noise, and Warly turned back to see that he was gazing at the pot in extreme interest. "Oh. Smells good. What is new friend, Warly, making?"

Warly answered as he stirred. "It is a special soup, tallbird, herb and veggie, for Allena and Wilson. I would offer you some, but there is only enough to two, I'm afraid."

Webber's legs wilted. "Oh. Is okay. Webber does not need bestest of foods. Usually just eats birds and bunnies, anyways."

"Oh?" Warly asked casually as he dumped the recently chopped carrots into the pot. "And how do you prepare them?"

"Prepare? Oh, no. We just eats them whole, how we finds them."

Warly, who had just taken a taste of the soup to gauge its flavor, nearly spat it out. Of course, that would have been right back into the pot, which would have been utterly unacceptable, so he forced himself to swallow it. Then he choked out, _"Raw?_ You eat them _raw?"_

Webber cocked his head. "Friends all think this is strange, but yes. We eats them raw."

Warly shook his head. "As a Frenchman I admit that in some cases there is something to be said for raw meat. But really! You must treat yourself to a real meal from time to time, yes?"

Webber nodded, legs bouncing on his head. "Oh, yes! Whenever we come by, Allena gives us yummy foodies to eat and take home for later! Says I need to eat more, that I am far too skinny."

Warly inspected the boy. He didn't look very skinny, but Allena was quite the nurturing soul. No doubt to her, the spider-child could always use an extra meal. Still, as a culinarian, he could not let the child's circumstance pass unaddressed. "Now, my dear boy. You need to take better care of yourself. Raw food all the time is simply not healthy! Come. I will prepare something for you. You have the time, yes?"

Webber nodded. "We has all day to spend. Do not need to get froggie legs back until tonight. Mama long-legs will be hungry by then."

Warly gestured to a nearby seat. "Sit, then. I was just about to whip up some lunch for myself, as well. I'll make it a meal for two."

Webber sat happily, drawing his legs up to his chest and watching him with acute interest.

A meal for two. Another heart to be warmed.

Warly was used to such a quantity.

* * *

Webber sat watching the new man cook. He seemed nice.

Webber was excited. Warly was cooking a special meal, just for them! Webber hadn't had a special meal since he was little. His mama and papa would always make whatever he wanted on his birthday. He'd always ask mama for her yummy pancakes at breakfast, papa for his tasty clam chowder at dinner, and he would always make himself a PB and J for lunch.

He sure did miss his mama and papa. But he had spider-mama, and he had Allena, and he had all these other friends now, too! The new lady, Winona, was really nice. She'd made him a nifty golden ring last week. It was a little cogwheel, and it fit his finger perfectly. It was his new favorite thing, and he wore it all the time.

"So, mon petit monsieur, how is it you live out in the woods by yourself?"

Webber giggled. The new man said funny words. "We do not live by ourself! We have mama long-legs and all of our spiderfriends with us! But we can also come by and see everyone else whenever we want to. Wes and I like to play cards. Do you know Wes?"

Warly, who was now mixing up some eggs and milky milk in a big bowl, nodded. "Oh, oui. My fellow Frenchman. I have been telling him all about how our country has grown in the years he has been absent, how it has changed and improved. And in return, he tries to tell me how it used to be! Ah, would that he could communicate more easily. I often have trouble understanding him."

"We know what you mean. Sometimes it is very hard for me to tell what quiet friend is saying."

Then Webber blinked. Had he said fellow _Frenchman?_

Warly opened his mouth to talk again, but Webber gasped. "Wait, you are French? A French chef?"

Warly's eyebrows raised and he said, "Oui…?"

Webber squealed with excitement. "Oh! Mama always said that the French are the bestest chefs in the world! She always wanted to go to France, to try all the tasty dishes and see all the pretty sights! And you are making a tasty dish just for me?!"

Warly laughed. It was a nice sounding laugh, like his father's had been. "Yes, petit monsieur. Bet you never thought you would have one of the bestest chefs in France making a meal just for you, eh?"

Webber shook his head. "Never _ever._ Oh, mama would be so happy if she knew!"

He knew she would be. Of course, maybe she did know. Mama always said that when she died, she would go to heaven and always be looking down on him. Webber had been gone so very long, he thought maybe his mama wasn't around anymore back home. In that case, she might be looking down on him right now. Him with all of his new friends, and his pretty golden ring, and a French chef making him a tasty meal!

Mama and papa would be happy for him, he thought. Grandpa, too.

He wondered if Warly had parents of his own. He decided to ask. "Does Warly have a mama? I know not all grown-ups do."

Warly paused. Then he resumed stirring and said, "Oui. Back home I have my maman Angeline. I used to make her favorite meals for her each and every day, because they always brought her back to me."

Webber cocked his head. "Brought her back? Where did she go?"

Warly turned away to chop up some meats and said, "Ah, she has a disease of the mind. It makes her forget many, many things. It even makes her forget me, most days!" He dumped the meats in a pan with butter and said, "But the recipes? They always make her remember, if only for a little while."

Webber's mouth dropped open as he thought about this. His mama…forgot him? Forgot who he was? "You mean she didn't recognize you?"

Warly nodded as he mixed some herbs in with the meats. "Oui. She would look right past me like I wasn't even there most of the time! As though I were a complete stranger!" His voice was laughing, but his words were sad.

Webber blinked. A stranger. How would he feel if he got back home, found his mama, and she looked at him like he was a stranger?

He looked down at his arms. Of course she wouldn't recognize him. He looked like the strangest stranger ever. But Warly? He didn't look very strange at all.

His eyes teared up. Someone's mama, anyone's mama, not being able to recognize them…

He sat there and tried to think about it for a minute, but he just couldn't. It was too sad. He hopped out of his seat, ran over to Warly, and gave him a big hug.

"Wha…?!" Warly exclaimed.

Webber hugged him tighter, sniffled, and said, "W-we are sorry your mama doesn't recognize you! That is the saddest thing w-we have ever heard."

After a moment he felt a hand gently patting his head, and Warly said, "Ah, is alright mon petit monsieur. It…is sad. But she still comes through from time to time. I hope to get back to her soon, so I can bring her back to _me_ again."

Webber let go and said, "Wilson s-says he's making a Gateway to go b-b-back home. And Winona says she is helping him, and w-working hard, and that it should be done soon."

Warly smiled warmly at him and said, "Indeed. We will all be home soon enough, I think. And I thank you for your kind words – Allena was truthful. You are quite the special young man. Now…"

He patted Webber on the head once more and turned back to the kitchen, pouring the eggy mixture into the pan and stirring it around with his spatula. "In the meantime, let us enjoy our life as we have it here – full of good days, good company, and above all…good food."

He lifted the pan from the fire. The eggy mixture inside had become solid by then, and with a great wave of his arm he tossed the whole flat of eggs and meats into the air and caught it again. He'd flipped it perfectly, without a spatula, and without a single little bit of food falling out.

Webber clapped wildly, sorrows already forgotten. Warly was a good chef.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song, for reference, is A la Claire Fontaine :)


	43. A Union of Souls

Wilson looked up from his work. It was nearing sunset.

Unwilling to spend too much time away from their project, he'd decided to spend the rest of the day going back over his blueprints for the umpteenth time. He needed to make sure all the calculations were correct. A single wrong digit could result in catastrophe.

He was just finishing it off and had found, to his satisfaction, that everything added up the same as it had the last two times. The first few times he'd looked it over he'd discovered a few mistakes. It had, sadly, resulted in a bit of wasted effort – he and Winona had made a cogwheel just two millimeters too small because of one of his miscalculations the previous week. Upon realizing the mistake, Winona had eyed the cog and come up with at least some use for it. Webber had been by to visit, and she'd given it to him as a ring, telling him they'd made it just for him. The spider boy had been ecstatic.

Wilson had clucked a bit over that – gold was a valuable resource, and they could have melted that wheel down and reused it; but he'd been quite unable to say anything in the face of the boy's delight. When had those big white eyes of Webber's gone from creepy to endearing?

As he stood up and stretched – he'd been lounging in what was once the Living Grove, but was now only a recently-healed, grassy patch of earth and sunlight – he heard his name being called.

"Wilson! You out here? Wilson?"

His cheer at finding his schematics accurate promptly redoubled. It was Allena. If there was one summons he could never quite resist, it was hers.

He moved in her direction, finding her quickly. She was looking in the direction of Chester's clearing, and as he was on the opposite side of her she didn't see him as he approached. He quickly tiptoed behind her and, just as she took a breath to call for him again, leaned over and said, "Boo."

She yelped and whipped around, nearly smacking him in her fright, and he jerked back with a grin.

She scowled at him. "Wilson, you _ass!"_

He laughed heartily. "Forgive me, my love. I couldn't help myself. Something you needed from me?"

She crossed her arms and glared at him, obviously irritated. He pouted and said, "Oh, come now. You will forgive me? I didn't mean to upset you."

She relented a bit, but sighed. "I really don't like being startled like that, Wilson."

Ah. At this he felt a twinge of real contrition. "I'm sorry, my dear. I'll refrain from that particular prank in the future. Pax?"

She melted. "Pax. Now, it's getting late, and I was wondering…do you have any plans for the evening?"

He shook his head. "No. Just a spot of dinner, perhaps pick up one of those books you brought back. A bit of light reading before bed. And yourself?"

She bit her lip, and Wilson's curiosity was piqued. She normally only did that when she was nervous.

"I was actually wondering…" She said. "Uh, I mean, I have a little something for you. If you'd like to drop your things off at the base, maybe we could go for a walk…?"

A walk? A little something? Now he was well and truly interested. "Certainly, at once."

He started in the direction of the base with her quick to his side. "How has your day been?" He asked her.

"It's been lovely. What about yours?"

Hmm. Now that was odd. Normally she would elaborate a bit on what she'd done with her free hours before asking about his. He didn't push, though. "Oh, fine. I couldn't rest easily without looking over the blueprints one more time, so I spent the afternoon making sure nothing was amiss."

"Was anything amiss?"

"Not a thing. It all adds up."

They got back to the base and he dropped his belongings off. To his surprise, Warly and Webber were sitting by the fire chatting. It had been a while since he'd seen the spider-boy. "Ah, good evening Webber. How is your…spider-mama?"

He asked this lightly, though he still didn't care for the creature. The way Webber's mood lifted whenever he mentioned her, though, had gradually made Wilson acknowledge that sparing the beast had likely been the right call. Webber loved his spider-mama.

His answer now was just as gleeful as usual. "She is very good!" Webber replied. "Once we get the froggy legs back to her, she will be even better! She loves froggy legs!"

Allena, who typically swooped down on Webber and showered him with attention, was oddly dismissive of him that evening. Polite, of course, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere. "Oh, hey, Webber. Good to hear that spider-mama's doing better. Sorry I can't stay, but I have plans tonight. But I see you've met Warly, and maybe Wes can play cards with you?"

"Webber needs to be going soon. Mama long-legs will be hungry."

"Mmhmm," Allena said distractedly. "Hey Warly, did you have the…?"

Warly pointed to a backpack leaning against the tent.

"Oh, perfect!" She exclaimed. "It has everything?"

"Oui. Have a nice evening!"

Wilson looked at him curiously, and Warly gave him a wink. Wilson couldn't quite tell what sort of a wink it was, but given that it came from Warly and involved a backpack of mysterious contents, he imagined the evening was likely to involve something that tasted exquisite. This was just as well. He'd only had a few pieces of jerky for lunch, and was starving.

Allena put on the backpack and led him out the door without a backward glance to her friends. "See you later!"

"Bye Allena! See you next time!"

"Have fun."

They made their way in the direction of the Vargwood, keeping near the cliffs. They walked in silence for a while, then he asked her, "So, where might we be headed?"

"Just some place that I found," she replied offhandedly.

Wilson hopped over a protruding tree root and said, "What a detailed and satisfying answer. You really have an artful grasp of descriptive language, my dear."

She laughed. "Thank you. But you know, a picture's worth a thousand words. I'll let you see it for yourself."

He was walking with a spring in his step, eager as all to see what she had in store for them, and when they'd been walking for a short while he asked again, "Come now. Am I not even to have a hint?"

"A hint?" She asked. She hummed thoughtfully. "Okay. Question – what were the three of the nicest evenings we spent together?"

He thought about this for a minute, then said, "To be fair, every evening since your arrival has been better than the last. But if you want me to pick three outstanding ones…"

She rolled her eyes at his obvious flattery, and he went on, "The evening you showed me the blueprints stands out as a rather nice one."

"Yeah, that one stuck with me, too. Any others?"

"Hm. I seem to recall the first night of our expedition, in the Thornwood base, as a fine evening."

She made a noncommittal noise. He tried again.

"Ah, perhaps that first time you gave me a massage? Or the first night I gave one to you. Both were splendid."

She nodded. "Yup. Any more?"

He clacked his teeth in thought. "Well, Christmas was a fine one until Maxwell showed up."

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah. So what do you think I have planned tonight?"

"Bickering with Maxwell, trading massages, and working on the Gateway? I'm sorry to say I left the blueprints at the base, though."

She smacked her forehead and said, "You got one of the three. Personally, when I remember Christmas I think of good food rather than Maxwell. How does that sound?"

Wilson was about to reply, but just then they emerged from the wood into a small clearing. He'd never seen it before, but even if he had it would have been unrecognizable now.

Two small fire pits, all stocked up with lumber and – if his eyes weren't deceiving him, nitre – were set up near the edge of the clearing in front of two stunningly beautiful chairs. Surely Wolfgang's work. A small travel tent he'd made a while back had also been set up, with a picnic blanket in front of it and the corners of some of their cushier blankets poking out from inside. A box containing thermal stones, a decanter of oil, and a handful of other implements had been set aside, and a small barrel of water stood beside that.

His jaw must have hit the ground. Where had she found the time to set all of this…

Oh. That was why she hadn't mentioned what she'd done with her day.

"Do you like it?" She asked, perhaps a bit skittishly. "I thought that, since we have a couple days off, we could maybe enjoy an evening to ourselves...?"

Of course. Three lovely evenings; trading massages, enjoying good food…

His musings wandered right through his head and out of his mouth. "But what of the third night? The night you gave me the blueprints?"

Her eyes twinkled, and she led him over to the cliff behind the tent. "Well, I don't know about you, but what I remember best about that night was watching the sunset with you. Come on."

The sunset? Here? Granted, it was the perfect time, but they'd be hard-pressed to reach a good vantage point in the next twenty minutes.

She reached for the cliff and hoisted herself up, and he noticed a crack in the stone. An ascent just mild enough for them to scale, so long as they were careful. "Come on up," Allena said. "Just mind your footing!"

She crawled up fairly quickly, and he followed without hesitation. Where could this lead?

The answer was quickly found. After only a few minutes of climbing, she got to a small chasm in the stone through which he could see sunlight. She took off her pack and handed it to him. "Pass it to me once I'm through. It's a little narrow."

He took the pack, watched as she disappeared, handed it to her at her command, and followed through himself.

As soon as he was through, he gasped. It was a little ledge, only a few feet wide and just long enough for two people to sit facing each other with a couple of feet between them, and spread out before them was their entire peninsula.

The dying sun shone red against the tall pines of the North and Vargwoods. The textured surfaces of the grasslands, marshes, and savannahs caught the rays in a static ripple of light. The swamp, still moist from recent rains, glittered in pale earthy and silver colors, an alien sight. Beyond that, the ocean churned and swayed in hues of black and white, grey and blue.

Allena sat down, carefully opened the backpack, and pulled out some dining implements. Bowls, plates, cutlery, napkins, and finally, a large thermos and a small wicker basket. As Wilson sat down across from her she grinned and said, "Compliments of Warly."

"Much obliged," he said, still slightly awed by the view.

She looked immensely pleased with herself as she poured them the soup. The smell made his mouth water, not least of all because it was still steaming hot. She then pulled out two loaves of fluffy, crispy buttered bread and a large bowl of mixed fruit.

"I take it the garden is working out, then?" He asked as he examined them.

She nodded. "Yup. First fruits go to us. Again, compliments of Warly." She passed him his share of the meal and said, "Bon appetite."

The meal was stupendous. Normally they talked while they ate, but in this case neither of them could hold off on savouring the treats before them. Warly had really outdone himself.

Once the meal was finished she pulled out two tarts, not unlike the one she'd made for him that day he'd failed his fall beefalo hunt, though when he tasted them he found that they were even better than the first one. "Compliments of Warly?"

She smiled smugly. "Compliments of me, actually. Warly helped a little, but mostly me. I've been working on the recipe."

She put everything else back into the pack and sat herself next to him.

Turnover in one hand, he wrapped the other around her waist and said, "You have outdone yourself, my dear. I always love your surprises, but I couldn't have imagined a better one than this."

"Wow," she said teasingly. "The tarts are really that good, huh?"

He looked down at her and kissed her on the forehead. Before them, sunset was giving way to twilight, and above them the very first stars were just starting to come out. "The best."

* * *

That night may have been the finest of his life. They sat in their fine new chairs – compliments of Wolfgang, sure enough – talking quietly as the fires warmed and cooled the thermal stones. She told him poems and, at his insistence, even sung him a few songs. Songs of savage seas and rings of gold, of the color of her true love's hair, of the moon coming out in the gloaming; then she took the stones from the fire, coated his back with oil, and worked at his shoulders for nearly an hour. Finally, as she finished rubbing the last few circles into his back, she also finished the last of her melodies.

_I've never made promises lightly,_   
_And there have been some that I've broken,_   
_But I swear in the days still left, that we'll walk in fields of gold…_

_You'll remember me when the west wind moves_   
_Upon the fields of barley._   
_You can tell the sun in his jealous sky_   
_When we walked in fields of gold._   
_When we walked in fields of gold._   
_When we walked in fields of gold…_

He sat up. It was dark out now, the only light that of the cold blue and searing red fires flickering in their pits against the cliff. The stones were in the fires again, and it was his turn to make use of them. He walked over, pulled them out, and dropped another log on the flames. Then he turned around to see Allena sitting on the blanket, staring up at him with undisguised adoration.

For just a moment, his knees went weak. It was times like these that he felt nearly unworthy of her. Of all her kindnesses, all her strength…of that look. That look like he was the only thing in heaven or Earth that mattered to her in the slightest.

She was perfect.

Was there any way that he could hope to truly convey what he thought of her? He'd often despaired of ever finding the words. But now, in the hush of evening and the glow of the fires, he realized that there were a handful of words that ought to serve…and it was high time he spoke them.

He brought the stones over, set them down, and knelt in front of her. He took her face in his hand and leaned down to nuzzle her nose. She kissed him once on the lips, he returned the small affection, and then he spoke. "Would that I had been more prepared, I would have a ring…but I do not know that I can think of a better time to ask. Allena Jones, will you marry me?"

Her eyes, half shut in the closeness of the moment, shot open and met with his. They were wide and shocked, and he did not prompt her again. He only waited.

Her lids flickered quickly, an unconscious gesture of rapid thought, and after a moment of stillness she said, "Yes, of course. Of course I will."

His spirit soared. He wrapped an arm around her waist, mouth widening into a smile. "Splendid. Really, splendid. I suppose it ought to wait until we can get home, but even so…"

He pulled her flush against him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. They remained in that embrace for some time until Wilson realized that the thermal stones would be equalizing soon.

He broke off, snaking his hands under her shirt, intent on giving her a proper shoulder rub. She tensed before realizing what he was after. She blushed and turned around.

He kissed the back of her neck and said, "I'll have the Gateway up in no time at all. Then, home. Back to the world, with all of our friends at our side. A quiet wedding in the woods, do you think? With Warly and Webber and Wolfgang, Winona and Wes, maybe even Wortox should he want to come. And your sister and her fiancée, too, of course."

"Of course," she said breathlessly. He slipped her shirt over her head, she undid the straps of her brassier, and, as usual, he could not help but take a moment to admire the sight.

The muscles of her shoulders, modest but well-defined, shifted gently in the firelight. The smoothness of her skin and the way it contrasted so sharply with the vicious scars she'd acquired in her time there were entrancing.

On impulse, he reached out to trace them.

First, the smallest ones. Her shoulders were littered with many tiny marks, places where he knew that Treeguards had swiped at her and missed, but had not really missed. A long, thin one down her left ribcage, parallel to her spine, where a tentacle had nicked her on some expedition in the swamp. A few larger ones scattered here and there, from injuries neither he nor Allena could place.

He reached around to take her arm, to examine the scars there, too. She held it out for his inspection, looking down at it, and he traced the cold white gashes where a hound had once – nearly – torn the life from her. He let it go and his hand traveled to the last of the scars. The shadow's mark.

He drew his fingers down that long, thick scar, and she shivered beneath his touch. She'd acquired that wound the night he'd found her, the night he'd saved her – the night he'd almost gotten her killed in the first place, pinning her in the woods with his incessant curiosity. And then that wound had widened the very next day when she'd leapt onto the back of a tiger spider to save his life.

Brave, kind, strong, gentle, sweet, forgiving…and now, his. His, until death should they part.

He pushed her gently down to the blanket and pressed the thermal stones into her shoulders. She groaned with the sensation, and he rubbed them around firmly, coaxing her muscles to relax. After a while he coated her back with oil and ran his hands over the muscles.

She whimpered, and he felt a surge of pride. He'd learned over the months exactly how she liked her shoulders worked. He'd learned where to press, how hard, for how long. He'd learned that she loved the feeling of his fingers traveling slowly across her back in search of a new place to rub. He'd learned what spots hurt her, and what spots needed to be worked in spite of the pain.

"I know your back quite well," he said softly. "Do I not?"

She moaned concurrence. "Mhm…every inch."

He trailed his fingers gently down her back, starting at the neck and moving along the spine. "I do take pride in making you feel good, my love. I look forward to learning the rest of your body so well."

A shiver raced down her spine, past where his fingers had paused at the base…then she sat up.

He wanted to work on her a while longer – she'd done him twice as long – but before he could insist his breath caught in his throat. She'd turned her neck to look back at him, and there was a glow in her eyes that caught him singularly off-guard.

It occurred to him that he hadn't replaced his shirt after the massage she'd given him, and her eyes slid across his form as the firelight flowed across it. Then she looked back up to him and asked, "Do you want to do it now?"

Her face was as flushed as he'd ever seen it, and at her words his pulse skyrocketed. A large part of his brain shut off as he processed what she was offering.

She was facing away from him still, towards the fire, and the light danced around the sides of her body in the most tantalizing way. He wanted to see her in that light, to turn her around and lay her face up on the blanket, to see her in ways he hadn't before. He wondered – did she have scars in other places, too?

He reached out and touched her back again, fingertips pressing against the ribs, whereunder her heart was thrumming out a rhythm rapid enough to match his own. Her breath caught, her pulse stuttered…

…and he pressed her forward again, to lie on her stomach. She went willingly enough, though she twisted her neck to get a better look at him. Her eyes were questioning.

His fingers dug back into her shoulders, and as he resumed the massage he began humming the melody from an old song he could not quite recall. He was sure there were words to it, but they had long eluded him. He hummed this old melody any time his focus wandered from his inventions, and now it served to occupy his mind as his hands continued their work.

Slowly, Allena relaxed. He felt her pulse slow, and he waited for his own to slow in turn. When it was finally back to normal he said, "I want to. I very much want to. But our goal is so close." He leaned down and kissed the back of her head. "These things are matters of practicality, yes, but they are also matters of honor and respect. I respect no one in the world more than you, and I intend to prove it. Will you wait with me a while longer, my love?"

She took a deep breath and let it out in something that was not quite a sigh, but close. "Yes. Of course."

Then she turned back to look at him one more time, eyes twinkling playfully in the firelight. "But I won't be happy about it."

He threw his head back and laughed breathlessly. "I know, my love. But it is a pain we must endure."

* * *

Another pig fell to the ground with a loud squeal, and as it lay stunned its opponent stepped over to it, reached down, and pinched its little snout.

"Pardon me, friend. I have a lot to do tonight, and only so much time to do it! Might I borrow this?"

The pig's eye opened, crossed, then widened as it began to glow, bright red, from its snout to its toe.

It collapsed into a small ball of swirling red smoke, which Wortox scooped up and examined. He licked his lips, but sighed and stowed it in his bag. "A tasty snack, but one I must save for another time, I fear. Now, where might I find…?"

He looked around at the village to see that the remainder of the pigs had fled to the safety of their homes and were poking their snouts against the windows in terror.

He winced. He was a rather frightening fellow, wasn't he?

Still, he needed just another three souls. He needed them to Hop. He'd been testing out his newfound abilities, and the power to Hop was one that had proven quite curious.

Not hopping in the normal sense, of course. He was plenty good at that without the power souls could give! No, he meant 'Hop' in the more trickstery sense. With the power of a stored soul, he could Hop out of one place and appear instantly in another! _Pop_ – gone! _Poof_ – back again!

He'd tried Hopping with only one soul, and he hadn't gone terribly far. Forty feet at the very most. But once he'd tried it with two, and he'd gone much, much farther! He wanted to see just how far he could Hop with more souls.

How far, he wondered, would _ten souls_ take him?

He'd chosen ten because that was just about as much as he was willing to risk. He could only hold twenty at a time before the weight on his own soul became too much to bear. Though the creatures he hunted had only the barest shreds of souls, they were still living in a sense. His father would no doubt have been able to carry all the souls in the Constant on his shoulders without a care in the world, but his mother's mark was still upon him. So many stolen lives pressing down on him…it made him feel rather ill.

So, twenty souls to hold – ten to take him on his great Hop, ten to get him back! That ought to do, yes?

He looked about and sniffed the air. These piggies had given their fair share. Where, oh where, might he find a few more?

Aha! There were spiders around, he was sure! Wherever the pigs went, the spiders would follow. For they always were hungry, their bellies quite hollow, and pigs made a meal quite pleasant to swallow.

He took off into the forest, searching for signs of webbing, and sure enough was able to locate a few signs of nests nearby. He pulled out his halberd and readied it for battle. Three more souls, and he would be ready to go.

Of course, he was not to Hop somewhere aimlessly. Oh, no. He'd planned ahead for this little jaunt. All week he'd been sensing a slow-growing power, tucked safely away in some dark, shady bower. He knew not what it was; but if all that he'd learned was any indication, it was likely some foul plot of that dastardly Maxwell.

He knew by then of the debt Allena had incurred, but he did not see that Maxwell had any right to try and collect on it early. And by such vile means – corrupting the Treeguards! How cruelling, how crass! Why, when Wortox next found him, he'd kick that man's—

_Tsssssssssssssss! Tssachaa saaaarach!_

Oh. He'd found the spiders!

One trundled over to him, quite confident, and with a single blow he severed three legs. He reached out to gather the creature's soul, but it was quite angry with his attack. It hissed even louder and lunged for his hand.

Wortox jerked back, wagged his finger at it, and said, "Now, now. I only want your soul. And I'll let it go right away, I promise!"

He would use these ten souls to Hop to the place of the growing power, discover what Maxwell was up to now, and Hop right back! Then he'd go to Allena and let her friends know, just in case it was some kind of dreadful new foe.

But first…

"Pardon me, mister spider, but we've got to go."

It tried to bite him again and, just as its friends swarmed into the clearing, he grasped it by the leg and watched it collapse into smoke. Then—

_Oof!_

A great yellow spider had leapt out of nowhere, barreling into him from behind. How unfair! How unsportsmanlike! How devious!

How delightful!

He rolled with the blow and wiggled his way to his feet, then chuckled at the spider and bowed to it. "Hyuyuyu! A nice little trick there, though it won't do you good! Come along little spidey, and let's see how big a soul you've got to give!"

Two more spiders had crawled into the clearing, and with a loud and cheerful yodel, Wortox set to work on them.

A twirl, a chop, a leap and a lop, a few good hacks, a _whick_ and some _whacks…_

Within a few minutes, the spiders lay maimed at his feet. He popped the most recently acquired soul into his mouth to top off his appetite, then bent down over a fallen black spider, placed a hand on its head, and it vanished into a puff of red smoke.

He repeated this with the next spider, scooping it into his bag, and turned to the tiger spider.

It glared up at him with something that could be described as anger, though only the barest hint of it. These creatures with only shreds of souls – those bits left over from those who once walked the Constant – made for paltry foes. Their mental and emotional faculties were quite dulled, and even the liveliest creature here was less aware of itself than the dumbest beast of Earth. But what could you expect, popping recycled soul fragments into bodies never meant to house them?

Wortox sometimes wondered if he could reconstruct those old souls, the ones that had been torn to pieces by the shadows, but he doubted it. A million, million soul fragments on this world, all being shored up and continuously pressed into service…what were the odds that he could find all the pieces to a single one?

Very low indeed. So he used them as he saw fit and hoped they would find peace in the next life.

He grasped the spider and watched the anger fade away with the rest of it. Then he took the soul and examined it.

Ten souls. Ten souls there, ten souls back. Oh, what fun.

He looked around. Was there anywhere in particular that he ought to Hop from? Likely not. Right there would be just fine.

He opened up his bag and reached in, pulling out a couple more souls. He took them along with the one he had, put them together, and squeezed.

The three souls compressed into a single red ball. He pulled out more and repeated the process. Fairly soon, he had ten souls all bundled up in one.

He repeated this process with the other group of ten, just in case he needed to make a quick escape. It was hard work pressing those souls together. He'd once found two fragments of the same soul and they'd stuck right together like magnets, but all these disjointed fragments? Pushing them together took quite a bit of work! He had just the right hands for the job, but it exhausted even him.

He took the two metasouls, placed one in his bag, and held the other out in front of him. Now was the challenge. To Hop, not in a straight line, nor even to a destination predetermined, but to a place he'd never been nor seen. Could it be done?

He was about to find out. What fun, what fun!

He readied himself to Hop and focused with all his might on the source of dark power he sensed gathering somewhere beneath the earth. He'd caught the 'scent' of that power, Maxwell's power, from the hound mound. Now he would follow that 'scent' and see what Maxwell was cooking up this time.

He closed his eyes, channeled all his will into the Hop, and hopped.

_Pop!_

Rushing. Rushing red. Light, everywhere, and the sense of things flying past him very, very quickly. Whirls of jumbles of things and sounds and smells and places. He was nowhere. He was everywhere. Then—

_Poof!_

He was only somewhere.

Wherever he was, it was perfectly dark. No light, none at all…

Oh, wait. His eyes were closed.

He blinked them open, and the sight that met his eyes set his fur standing on end. For the first time in a very long time, he felt a dreadful sensation inside of him. It was one he hadn't felt in many years. It took him a long moment to place it, but when he did…

He swallowed and took a step back. The feeling he felt of this place down here – it was fear.

This place was dreadful. Lovely, but dreadful. An endless expanse of runic tile all aglow, with nightmarish crimson lights dotting the landscape. Above him was darkness impregnable. Across the plain in front of him, statues; not of gold, but of that strange orange material that had fascinated Allena so. These statues seemed to flicker in and out of reality, and Wortox thought that, at some point or another, they had stood there regally to overlook what magics were performed there. Now, however, they screamed.

He could almost hear it, that high-pitched shrieking on the edge of his hearing, just out of range. Only just. It was surely emanating from the mouths of those statues, opened in eternal wails of agonized contrition. And they were only the décor.

A great ring of those nightmare lights surrounded what appeared to be a construction ground of sorts. Shadows, creeping crawling beasts of darkness, skittered here and there carting their building materials from station to station. They carted neither clay nor brick, however. No, these dire beasts carted flesh.

As he watched, a massive, chitinous leg was heaved before a statue and set before it. Then the shadows wailed and writhed as the statue's mouth began to overflow with that strange and squishy black ooze that seemed to radiate madness – nightmare fuel. The thing from which the shadows were made.

The fuel seeped to the ground and trailed across the runic turf to the leg, and as it did something else emerged from the statue's mouth – and it was something Wortox recognized very well.

It was a soul fragment, shiny and red. It seemed to be struggling to escape from the ooze, but it flowed down that foul black river like a mouse traveling through the belly of a snake. As soon as it reached the leg, the nightmare fuel constricted around it and forced the soul into the monstrous limb. It went unwillingly, but at last it was sequestered. The limb jerked, then lay still.

Another body part had clearly already been infused, Wortox could see the faint red glow within that he knew would escape the notice of others. The piece appeared to be a haunch of some kind, and he could see a fragment of spine sticking out of it. The creature, whatever it was, was in the process of being assembled.

So this was how Maxwell made his toys. He crafted the pieces, infused them with souls, then bound them together. How curious – Wortox had assumed that only he could bind souls together like that! Could others do it so easily as well? Was such an art the sort that could be learned rather than granted?

But as he watched, he saw that things were not so simple. The shadows carried the limb to the haunch, and more nightmare fuel flowed out of a nearby statue like glue to bind the two together. But as soon as the pieces touched it became apparent that something was wrong. The souls glowed brightly, the pieces of the beast pushed apart, and it took immense effort from the shadows to hold them together while the nightmare fuel bound the—

No. It was not enough. The leg glowed brightly for a brief moment, then combusted. The limb was torn apart in a flash of red, and the soul dissipated. It seemed that the shadows were unable to fuse souls the way he did.

So that was why such monsters were rare. It must have taken immense power and time to construct these creatures. They were trying to force the fragments of several souls into a single body, one that was never compatible with any of them, and doing so was apt to rip the body apart in the process. Still, going by the immeasurable energies focused in this place, it was obvious that Maxwell was—

_"What have we here? A spy? Oh, what fun."_

Wortox whirled around to see a figure standing silhouetted in the glow of a nightmare light. It was eight feet tall with a badly curved spine. Its fingers were long and black and clawed, its legs bent like the legs of a spider. It appeared to have a great ruff of fur around its neck…or maybe that was just the ruff of a coat. It looked like…

Wortox's ear twitched, and he took a quick sniff. "Maxwell?"

Maxwell stood staring at him for a long moment, then moved off to the side. Now that he wasn't being silhouetted, it was easier to have a good look at him.

Pure white eyes, ashen skin, and beneath his clothes he looked quite thin. Pointy teeth galore he sported, and overall he looked quite sordid.

Wortox chortled as he took in his foe. His fear was already dissipating. "Hyuyuyu! What has become of you, Maxwell? You do not look so hot!"

Maxwell gazed at him blankly, then his voice sounded again. It echoed half in Wortox's head and half out.

_"Little Wortox! I ought to have known. Clever imp, hopping all around my Constant. Tell me, what brings you to my workshop?"_

Wortox looked out again at the ruinous plain and said, "I just thought I'd pop in and make sure you weren't up to anything wicked. My friends would no doubt like to know if you were!"

Maxwell's face broke into a smile and he said, "Oh? And do you intend to tell them of what I'm making here?"

"Hyuyu! What you are making?" Wortox cajoled. "You are making piles of scrap! Your creations simply cannot hold it together! You could not pin the tail on a donkey, let alone a leg on a monster! Hyuyuyuyuyuyu!"

He quite lost himself to laughter. It was obvious that Maxwell, even in the heart of his power, lacked the ability to make much of a threat. Not unless he was lucky enough to find some compatible souls for his creation.

He'd found enough for his Deerclops, of course, but those were all long gone. Oh, no wonder he'd been so dreadfully furious with Allena and Wilson for killing it! No doubt a beast like that would have taken a hundred years to make!

He'd expected Maxwell to lose his temper, but instead the man just stood there grinning. _"I must confess, I'd despaired of finding the materials needed to make the minion I'd had in mind. And with every new addition to their little family, they grow stronger and stronger. Too much longer and they may have even found the strength to escape this place!"_

Wortox petered off. Humor was all very well and good, but this fellow was a wicked man. He needed to be taught a lesson.

Wortox licked his lips, then spoke. "They are quite capable of fending off the things you throw at them, but I'm afraid I have some concerns about your weapons of choice." At this his brows furrowed, and his claws started twitching. "You ought not to have sickened those Treeguards, Maxwell. It was a very _naughty_ thing to do."

He took a step towards the tall and twisted man. He brought up his hands, and as he did so they burst into crimson fire. That Hop had been quite the ordeal, and he was feeling a bit peckish. He wondered: how would Maxwell's wicked soul taste?

The smile fell off Maxwell's face, and he stood there watching as Wortox stepped closer and closer. _"Oh? You had a problem with that? Well, I suppose I can understand that…"_

Wortox's nose twitched, and he paused to listen. Then Maxwell concluded,

_"No doubt any child of that whoring spirit you call a mother would take offense to the corruption of those paltry little saps!"_

Wortox saw red. To insult him was one thing, but his mother? Oh, oh, oh. Maxwell had to go.

He leapt forward and, hands a-flicker, wrapped his claws around Maxwell's throat. The glow of his power pulsed once, twice, thrice as it prepared to sweep over this foul little fiend and reduce him to nothing but a tasty treat. He waited for the curse to take effect. He waited.

But nothing happened.

Wortox blinked. The glow did not extend beyond his own hand. It was almost as though Maxwell didn't even have a—

Wortox stilled. Maxwell grinned.

_"Oh, dear. I seem to have left my soul in my other meat-suit."_

Wortox, realizing what a terrible mistake he'd made, flung himself backwards and reached into his bag for his other metasoul. It was time to go!

But before he could even picture the world above in his mind's eye, a great, shadowy hand flew out of the darkness and rammed into his chest. The soul flew away, landing on the ground, and Maxwell walked over and picked it up.

He looked at it closely, and his grin widened. _"Why, what is this? Ten souls, all packed into one little ball? Why, with a thing like this I daresay I can make a monster even fiercer than the Deerclops!"_

Had he been able to, Wortox would have paled. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, nonononono…

The hand, which had been steadily crushing him into the stone, wrapped its fingers around him and lifted him up. It slammed him against the rock until he saw stars, then slowly started dragging him into the darkness.

The thing that looked like Maxwell watched him go, his neck twisting unnaturally to keep him in sight as he was dragged into that absence of light…a darkness darker than a moonless night.

_"Worry not, little Wortox! I'll keep you around a while longer. I wouldn't want you to miss out on my next project! After all…"_

The shadows enveloped Wortox, trapping him in an umbric cocoon, and the demon vanished from sight.

_It would not have been possible without you._

* * *

Maxwell looked up from his throne. The Shadow had left him there to take care of an errand, and he wondered dully what it had been. Not that it was any of his business – and the Shadow didn't like him prying into its business.

It had taken a long while for the Shadow to wear him down, to convince him to let it possess him. At first he'd been so adamantly against it, sharing his body with the thing that he'd assumed had been the death of Charlie. But his days of resistance were long gone. As he'd learned, it was so much easier to just acquiesce.

It was difficult sometimes. Difficult to let the Shadow do as it would. Defiance would bubble up in him every now and again, though for the life of him he had no idea where it came from. It would always vanish as quickly as it came, and it never amounted to anything while it was there. What good had his warning to the girl done when the Deerclops had first been summoned? What good had his struggles done when he'd struck that bargain with her all those months ago?

Not an ounce of good. None. Nada. Goose eggs.

It was always a conundrum. He was only truly himself when the Shadow departed completely, but what good was it to be himself when he had no power to act? It was only with the Shadow's power that he was able to project himself out into the Constant. He wasn't entirely powerless on the throne, but he was still sorely limited.

But when the Shadow took him, everything became muddled. Rage, sadism, fits of…lust. William Carter had never been prone to such things.

But he wasn't William Carter. Not anymore. No, now he was Maxwell. Maxwell the Great. Maxwell the Magnificent! Maxwell…

_Maxwell the Mindless. Maxwell the Foolish. Maxwell the Unruly. Tell me, what thoughts did I leave you alone with this time? Hopefully no more of that false hope, that misplaced resentment?_

He sighed. It seemed that the Shadow was back. "No. None of that. So, what have you been up to?"

He fully expected a lash of pain in response to the question. The Shadow was quick to punish him when he stepped out of line, and questioning where it had gone in his absence – what it had chosen to use that twisted facsimile of his body for – definitely constituted an invasion of privacy in its mind. Still, Maxwell always asked. Subservience was one thing, but it didn't do to become _completely_ complacent.

But this time, the Shadow merely laughed. _Why, I'm quite glad you asked! Come, let me show you!_

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. It wasn't usual for the Shadow to be this jovial. It must have really accomplished something fine.

He could feel it pressing at his mind, seeking to join to him. Once it did, he would gain access to the tendrils of power that swept across the Constant.

Most of these tendrils were always open to him – he could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, projecting a perfect physical copy of himself anywhere on the globe. He possessed this homunculus just as the Shadow possessed him. Everything it felt, he felt. Everything it heard, he heard. He was barely even aware of his real body while he was projecting. His real body, wasting away on this hard, black throne. For that reason, he tended to make use of the power of projection whenever possible.

He'd built his own little 'bases' here and there, all stocked with whatever delights he could possibly desire. The finest foods, the softest beds, all the riches of the world. It had been his reward for acquiescing, this power of creation.

In the endless time he'd spent there he'd built it all. He'd started with chests and farms, working his way up to tentacles and hounds. He'd made plains and deserts, seas and forests, whatever biomes struck his fancy. When he'd grown bored of having nothing but mindless animals to preside over, the Shadow had taught him how to make sentient beasts.

It had been thoroughly amused by his clumsy shaping of flesh. When that first pig had stumbled out of the darkness to stand before his throne, he'd thought he would hardly need anything more. These creatures would keep him company, surely?

He'd made a pleasant little world for them, gifted them with intelligence and class, and watched as they'd pieced together their own little civilization. He'd watched them grow and thrive, build homes and forge tools, even take to worshipping the Shadow that had helped make them as though it were a god.

It had taken decades for boredom to set in. First he'd started adding little pains, just to see how they would react. Plants that spewed poison, living vines, toxic treats. They'd started building paths through the jungles to avoid these things, so he'd made more mobile threats – giant birds and stinging insects. They'd created bug nets to keep the bugs at bay, made helmets to keep them safe from the birds. He'd been amused. He'd thrown more troubles at them.

Spider Monkeys. Scorpions. The pigs learned to forge weapons. He'd been delighted.

He'd thrown even more at them.

They'd really become quite the impressive specimens. How Maxwell had despaired upon waking one day and realizing that he despised his creations.

He'd killed them all in an Aporkalypse on a whim.

It was then that the Shadow had suggested another course of action. The creatures had grown boring because they were predictable. After all, they could only ever be what Maxwell had made them to be. Constructed sentiency could only ever go so far. But what if he…imported some livestock…?

At first Maxwell had been enraged at the very idea. He knew what the Shadow wanted. It wanted him to bring others here, as it had brought him. To trap them in this hell just as he had been trapped. He'd refused adamantly, fully expecting the wrath of the Shadow to descend on him, punish him, force him to do its will.

But it hadn't. It had simply laughed and told him that it had no need of such base tactics. And as Maxwell had learned, it had been correct.

The years had begun to wear on by then. Years without a truly living soul to speak to. If he'd had Charlie he thought he would have been alright – but to his knowledge, he'd fed Charlie to the very Shadow that was by then always lingering on the edge of his consciousness. How he'd despised himself.

He'd tried to escape. The Shadow wouldn't let him. He'd tried to call for help. The Shadow wouldn't let him. He'd tried to end it all.

The Shadow wouldn't let him.

In time he had relented, agreeing to fetch someone into the Constant to serve as their amusement. It was the isolation that did him in. The isolation and the endless, gnawing guilt. He thought if one could not be relieved, the other must.

He still recalled the first time he'd been able to reach out into the real world. The Shadow had permitted him to project himself into the streets of San Francisco, and _oh,_ how the city had changed.

He'd always been a charismatic fellow. How shocked he'd been to discover that his silver tongue had rusted from years of disuse! The first man he'd met had been a scientist, a man by the name of Wagstaff. Maxwell had walked right up to him, confident that he'd be able to trick him into agreeing to one of the Shadow's many contracts, but he'd opened his mouth to find his mind completely blank.

The man had peered at him curiously through his thick, silly-looking goggles and asked,

_Young man, did you just appear out of thin air?_

Maxwell had been quite taken aback. He'd said the first thing that came to mind.

_Yes._

The man had continued his line of questioning.

_And tell me, where did you come from?_

Maxwell, unsure of how he'd already managed to botch the conversation, had answered again.

_Another world._

He'd felt the Shadow growing agitated in the back of his mind, and without hesitation he'd blurted out,

_Would you like to see it?_

The man had taken a great interest. _Where is this world? What sort of world is it? How would one get there? How would one get back? Show me something from this world. Something that cannot be found in our own._

The Shadow had been quick to provide. With a flourish of the hand, Maxwell had presented a handful of that strange black substance of which the shadows seemed to be made.

_What is this?_

_This, my dear man, is what nightmares are made of._

The man had taken it to inspect it, then had narrowed his eyes. _Hm. Nightmare Fuel. Something this dreadful could only come from someone truly wicked! Answer my question; how would I get to your world?_

_I could take you. Right now, if you wished._

The man had peered up at him, watching closely.

_And how would I get back?_

It was the brief hesitation that had done it. The man had laughed himself hoarse and said,

_Ah! I see. You want to tempt me into your funny little world and laugh as I try to weasel my way back out! I don't think so, buckaroo! I've been around the block enough times to know a conman when I see one!_

The Shadow had roared in fury, yanking Maxwell back into the Constant, leaving the man there laughing.

Oh, such pain he'd never known. It took a great deal of power to open a way to Earth, an investment that could only be recouped by the capture of a soul. Maxwell had failed to follow through.

He'd never made that mistake again.

The next time he'd gone out, his silver tongue had been buffed and oiled. How quickly he'd tricked that woodsman into signing his life away! And then the gambler, the librarian, the manservant. Soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor – he'd snared them all, one after the other. He'd stopped counting after a while.

Then the inventor had shown up.

Wagstaff. He'd somehow found a way to make it into the Constant by himself. Even the Shadow had been baffled at first, then it had recalled the Nightmare Fuel they had given him. He must have found a way to harness its power, to follow to back to the place of its origin.

That had been the first time Maxwell had felt hope in years. He'd thought that – perhaps – if a mere mortal like Wagstaff could find his way into the Constant, it might be possible for a mere mortal to find a way out?

But it had become apparent at once that Wagstaff would not last. The Shadow had been so enraged by the man wielding its own power against it that it had used Maxwell to send wave after wave of trouble at the man. It was a testament to the elder's genius and resolve that he'd survived so long.

That had been the first time the defiance had bubbled up. By then, Maxwell been studying the Shadow's magics for years. He'd found a small loophole, a glimmer of hope. He was sure it would only work once, but maybe once was all he would need…

He'd petitioned the Shadow to let him go fetch someone else. The old man wouldn't last much longer anyways. The Shadow had agreed.

In the instant it had unlocked the tendril of power that would allow Maxwell to project himself back to Earth, he'd harnessed that power. He'd teleported himself to Wagstaff, grabbed the then-starving man by the scruff of his shirt, and hissed,

_You're not the first to come here, old man. You won't be the last. Put that brain of yours to good use and find a way out of here!_

And he'd hijacked the portal to Earth and thrown the man through.

He did not need to reminisce about the ensuing punishment. His mind tended to push it down whenever it bubbled to the surface, anyways. Needless to say, Maxwell had never had the opportunity to do something like that again, and wouldn't have tried even if he had.

He laughed at people who feared death.

His hopes had been for naught. The inventor had never come through. Perhaps his plight had been too much for him, and the trip back had killed him. Whatever the case, Maxwell never saw him again.

Then he'd met the new scientist – Wilson Percival Higgsbury. Wagstaff had left behind a few things of interest, one being a radio. There were a handful of similar radios back on Earth, and Maxwell had found that, if he was lucky, he could occasionally use his to tune into another. When he'd heard the plight of that scientist it had struck him that another inventor – one with a younger, stronger body – may be able to accomplish what Wagstaff had not.

He'd learned the art of keeping a few thoughts to himself over the years. The Shadow had not known his intention. He'd donned the mask of callousness and sadism that the Shadow had worked to instill in him over the years, and had convinced the Shadow to try one of its more exhausting – but amusing – antics. The direct infusion of knowledge into a willing mind.

The Shadow had, of course, poked a large enough hole in the man's mind to ensure that the knowledge would all leak back out again after a short period of time, but Maxwell had still hoped that some fragments would remain. Enough to allow him a head-start in the Constant.

It had worked. Higgsbury had taken to magic like a fish to water. Once he'd constructed an adequate base for himself, he'd set to discovering the ins and outs of the Constant. Maxwell had watched him with acute interest.

Then he'd stagnated. He'd become complacent, turning his brilliant mind to the making of the mundane, items of comfort rather than items of power. Too afraid to seek out the Nightmare Fuel he needed, he'd settled down to live out the remainder of his days in mediocrity.

And the saddest part? He hadn't even realized it.

Maxwell had. That's why he'd brought him the girl.

The Shadow was growing impatient, so he put his musings on hold. In the split second he had left to him, he threw himself into the role to which he had been assigned:

Maxwell the _Malicious._

The Shadow was pressing at his mind, struggling to get in, and he quickly acquiesced. Resisting only resulted in a dreadful headache.

It surged into his mind, and with its presence came solace. The sweet, sweet blunting of the empathy that still gnawed at his soul from time to time. Guilt, sorrow, fear – it all vanished in a thick black haze. All that was left was the warmth of rage, the edge of pride, and a hint of wry and bitter amusement.

There was no prelude today – as soon as it was situated, the Shadow dragged Maxwell's attention elsewhere, to a cozy little corner of the underground in which he often spent time designing the various monstrosities that he regularly sent to entertain his 'guests'. He knew the Shadow built them elsewhere, but his little studio served as a testing ground. Maxwell projected himself there and looked around as his homunculus came into being.

He breathed deeply through his nose, savouring the scents in the air. There was nothing to smell on the throne. He stretched his limbs and rolled his neck, enjoying the freedom, and it hardly even mattered that there was just a hint of tension niggling at the back of his mind – that place where the sensations of his real body slumbered.

He looked up and saw the creature chained.

"My," he said with acute intrigue. "What is this?"

The Shadow answered him as he walked up to inspect the little beast – Wortox, he thought its name was. It was strung up between two pillars, shadow manacles attached to its wrists and ankles, no doubt a very painful predicament.

_I found that little thing snooping around in the caves below. Do not ask it what it found._

Maxwell knew that were was a level below the plain he was on. Where the creations he designed were made. He'd caught a glimpse of it once, and had not been thrilled with the sight. The Shadow hadn't been thrilled with his snooping.

He did not try to get down there anymore. And he did not ask what it was the Shadow hid.

"Hm. Well, it is of no concern to me, I suppose. Tell me, did you have any plans for it?"

_I will make it watch as our creation rips the girl and all her friends to pieces._

Maxwell whistled. "Quite a tall order. Have there been any breakthroughs on construction, then? Or are you just indulging your pipe dreams?"

A jolt of pain shot through his body, making him gasp. It was gone just as quickly as it had started, and the Shadow said,

_Do not test me. I acquired something from the little beast. It will serve to power whatever creation you have in mind. I would have you finish it soon._

Maxwell raised an eyebrow, looking back at his workstation. On it was a creature suspended in a glow of red light, half-formed and asymmetrical. "Very well. I've been thinking of a few improvements – I take it I'll have a bit more leeway in terms of power?"

_Do what you will with it. Do not make it as fallible as your Deerclops, though. If they slay this beast…_

Maxwell waved a hand airily. "Yes, yes. I'll make it quite unconquerable. This time I'll do away with the spindly little—"

_Silence! It wakens._

Sure enough, from their guest issued a miserable, groggy bleating. Maxwell zipped his lips. It wouldn't do to have their guest overhearing their conversation.

He turned his attention to his creation-in-progress as the creature regained its consciousness. They pieces were all laid out on the table before him. He picked up a leg and pinched it down a bit, narrowing it at the shin and adding an extra joint. He elongated the pointed tip into a foot and began working on the claws.

He'd taken a sculpting class in his youth, and the medium had always appealed to him. With the Shadow's power, he supposed he would be able to create these things with any method he desired – painting, drawing, perhaps even willing them into creation with his mind alone. But he liked the feel of the clay in his hands.

"Uhh…urk…bahhhh…"

Their prisoner's bleating was starting to get annoying. If it didn't stop soon, he would—

But with a few sharp sneezes, the imp was awake.

"Ahh…where am I…?"

Maxwell ran his thumb over the shin of his project to smooth the texture, then said, "Ah, finally awake, are you?"

The manacles rattled behind him for a moment, then stopped. "M-M-Maxwell," the imp bleated. Its voice was low, edged with anger.

"Maxwell, indeed," he replied, turning around to face his guest. "Sleep alright, pal?"

The imp narrowed its eyes at him, tugged again at the manacles, and said, "Let me down. Let me down right away. This isn't a game that I'm willing to play! _Let me down right now!"_

Maxwell held up the limb he was working on and decided that the foot needed a heel. He added one and pondered attaching a dew claw. No, it was quite fine with what it had. "Hmm. Let you go? I'm afraid not. You see, you were caught trespassing. Terribly naughty thing to do, if you ask me. No, I think I'll keep you right where I can see you."

The imp's fur was bristling, and it opened its mouth to speak again. But it seemed to rethink whatever it had to say, because it paused long enough for its fur to quit bristling and lay flat again before talking. "Well, if you will not let me go, will you please let my hooves touch the ground? Just a bit? The strain on my wrists is rather uncomfortable."

It smiled genially at him, and in the back of his mind he heard the Shadow say,

_No. He may well be able to Hop his way out of the manacles, soul or no. I will not risk it._

Maxwell pursed his lips and replied, "I don't think so. Can't have you…what it is again?"

The question, outwardly rhetorical, was answered at once by the Shadow.

_Hopping, you buffoon. The imp has the power of teleportation…a slippery thing, even by my standards._

"Ah, yes," he said, seemingly answering his own question. "'Hopping' your way out of the manacles. That just wouldn't do."

The imp's nostrils flared, and its genial expression was gone in a flash. "Do not think you will get away with this unscathed, Maxwell. I am no pawn in your little game."

"No," he replied, narrowing the base of the foot he was working on and rounding the heel. "You were a wily little rook, trying to check the King. Which is why I think it is high time you were removed from the board for a spell. Now…"

He conjured a light to shine directly down on his creation in progress. It hovered in the center of the room awaiting further work. With so much more leeway to shape the creation to his liking, it was about to get a major overhaul.

He stepped over to it and turned the unfinished creature around so it was facing the imp head-on. "What do you think of my latest piece? It will need a fair bit of work before it's ready to go out, but—"

The imp let out a shrill, furious bleat. "Maxwell! You shall not—"

But Maxwell was sick of the imp's petulant whining. With a snap of his fingers the shadows coiled out of the darkness and wrapped around its mouth, stifling it and causing it to tug on the manacles in a futile fit of rage. It thrashed its head back and forth trying to dislodge the shadow, but its attempts were fruitless. Maxwell looked on unpityingly.

"Now, now. I don't see what you're complaining about. Did you not subject our dear friend Allena to the same thing – painful, forced confinement – for an entire week? Surely you can put up with it for as long as it takes me to finish my newest creation…"

He added a few more details to the leg he'd been working on, then held it up and said, "How does that look? Does it need another claw? I think it needs another claw."

While Wortox the imp struggled and strained against the unyielding bindings, Maxwell set to work in earnest.

He had a monster to make.


	44. Parties and Funerals

"So, how was your night with Wilson?"

Allena felt her face color slightly as she thought back on the evening. "Oh, it was great. Really great. We traded massages, had a nice dinner, talked about…stuff. Great."

She and Winona were sat on two of Wolfgang's new chairs with a small table set up between them. On it were two thermoses of tea, two small cups filled with honey and freshly made cream, a couple of saucers, and several plates stocked with finger foods.

Winona leaned forward, peering at Allena over her teacup. "Soooo, did you two…?"

Allena's flush deepened further, and she almost spat out her drink. "Ack! N-n-n-no! No, we didn't. I mean, I…"

Winona looked thoroughly intrigued, but she leaned back and waited for Allena to elaborate. Allena spent a second gathering her thoughts, then said, "I sort of…offered, but…"

Oh, jeez. This was embarrassing. Why did this have to be the first thing Winona brought up?

They were finally having their tea party. Allena had set it up right in the middle of the plain in the shade of the last Treeguard, seeing as it was an abnormally warm day that day. Winona had been hesitant, still remembering the last time she'd ran into the lumbering monstrosity, but Allena had assured her that, so long as they didn't go whacking any saplings, they'd be fine.

She seemed to be enjoying the edibles, and now it seemed to be time for the secondary tea party requirement – gossip. Winona took a gulp of tea – she wasn't a sipping sort of gal – and said, "You offered? And what, he turned you down? Come on, he can't have been that tired. We barely ran the forge at all yesterday!"

Allena shook her head. "It's not like that. He wanted to – I wanted to – but we're waiting."

"For?"

Then Winona seemed to realize the implication, and she smacked her forehead. "Oh, wow. For marriage?"

Allena nodded.

Winona whistled. "Woo-ie. Alright, well, I can respect that. How long have you been together?"

"Since late fall. So a while."

Winona reached out and grabbed a tiny beefalo-and-mushroom sandwich. "Long time to wait. And I'm sure it's gonna be even longer, given that we're still stuck here. Unless you're planning on getting married here. Has he proposed yet?"

She asked this offhandedly, probably not expecting an affirmative. But Allena's flush – which had just begun to dissipate – returned full force, and Winona gasped. "He did…?"

Allena was quiet. She wasn't sure if Wilson wanted her blabbing about this to everyone right away, but she found it exceptionally difficult to keep anything from Winona. So she went ahead and confirmed it. Voice quiet, she said, "Last night."

As soon as she said it she found herself smiling. She was engaged. To Wilson.

Winona gave her an approving look. "Wow. Alright. And what did you say?"

"Yes, of course. I mean, I love him."

Winona chuckled. "Really? I hadn't noticed. So, he give you a ring?"

Allena shook her head. "Gold might be abundant here, but good gems are a rare commodity in the Constant. A ring can wait until we get back." She added, "Although he did make me a stunning necklace for Christmas."

She pulled it out of her shirt where it usually sat against her skin and held it out for Winona to see. She leaned forward again, took a close look, and said, "Hey, that's not too shabby. Christmas, you said?"

"Yeah. Along with the most beautiful pair of soft, fuzzy, rabbit-skin gloves. And I made him a really nice rope – that one you two are planning to use to hoist the heavier components of the Gateway up for stabilization?"

Winona looked impressed. "You made him that for Christmas? Gotta say, I'd take a nice rope over a pretty necklace any day, but given how tough life is out here I can see why it would be an impressive gift. Really shows devotion, hey?"

Allena couldn't help but agree. "Yeah. As though he needed a necklace to do that. Have I ever told you about the time a hound almost ripped my arm off? You should have seen Wilson. Hovering over me all week long until I was recovered, always at my side. And he makes fun of me for how protective I got over Warly…"

She and Winona both laughed, and Winona asked, "So, what are your plans once we all get home? I figure you've asked everyone else what they want to do by now. What's on your docket?"

Allena honestly didn't know how to answer that. She'd been trying to avoid thinking about it. There were too many uncertainties. "Well, I don't know when we'll even get back. I mean, what year it will be? What if I come back and thirty years have passed? Longer? What if everyone I know is gone?"

Winona nodded stoically. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Still, at least there's a chance, yeah?"

Allena nodded. Of course there was a chance. A good one, too, which was more than Winona had. She supposed she would have to roll with it. "Yeah. Hopefully by the time I get back I'll be able to just kind of slip back into my old life. I was ready to head off to school in the fall, but I think that – given our situation – a job might be a better idea."

Winona quirked an eyebrow. "Our situation? You mean yours and Wilson's?"

"I mean everyone's. It'll be expensive to keep half a dozen people housed and fed until they can get jobs and papers. Still, my house is big enough to house everyone, so long as we're all okay with cramped accommodations. And once you guys find work it won't be tough to spread out a bit, you know?"

Winona downed the rest of her tea and set the cup back down on the table. "Yeesh. Do _all_ of your plans for the future revolve around other people?"

"Huh?"

Winona began pouring herself another cup. "All you seem to be thinking about is how to make sure we all fit in when we get back. You're just one girl. You can't take responsibility for all of us. It's way too much."

Allena blinked. Frankly, the idea that she could just leave everyone to fend for themselves in the modern era had hardly even crossed her mind – and for good reason. "You have no idea what the world is like nowadays," she explained. "If you want to make it in the long-term, you need to have a stable, legal life. You need to assimilate to the modern world. To do that you need to learn the system. I know the system, I'm a part of it; I can't just leave you guys to wander around aimlessly to get picked up by cops, or gangs, or radicals."

Winona's eyes widened, then she laughed. "Ha! I don't think you need to worry about us getting picked up by cops. And I think we'll be able to fend off a few punks with baseball bats and chains."

Allena shook her head. "The legal system is complicated nowadays, and it doesn't always have much to do with justice. And as for gangs, that's not what they're like anymore. They have guns, organized cells, and no standards. They're animals, and the kinds of things they'll do to you if you cross them are the stuff of nightmares. Cops don't protect people in the big cities because rich politicians won't let them to their jobs, and law enforcement in the small towns is much more scrutinous because they don't want their towns turning into the big cities. You guys will be between a rock and a hard place. You'll need help fitting in, or…"

Winona actually looked a bit uneasy. "Or what?"

Allena sighed. "Look, our society used to be big on helping people succeed. Start from scratch and work their way to the top. Nowadays, the governments in a lot of places are geared towards taking advantage of every little mistake you make. Fees and fines and loans until you're trapped under a mountain of debt you'll never pay off. If you start off with too many dings on your record, they'll use them against you for the rest of your life, keep you stuck in a rut as long as they can."

Winona looked briefly horrified. "Wait. Don't tell me the U.S.A. has become a _bureaucracy?"_

Allena looked at her sadly and said, "Depends on the state. But for the most part…"

Winona groaned. "Oh, say it ain't so."

She looked so dejected that Allena at once changed tact, moving to brighter news. "But it's not all bad! I mean, I told you women got the right to vote, right?"

"Oh, right. That ain't too shabby. How about runnin' for office?"

"Yup. We have senators, congresswomen, supreme court justices…"

"You're kidding! Well who knows! Maybe I'll give politicking a shot when I get back. Ha!"

They had a good laugh over that idea and chatted about the differences between the old and modern political climate for a while. Then they switched over to talking technology, culture, entertainment…

"…and there are entire worlds you can explore on some of these games. Personally, I'm not big on open-world RPGs, I'm more fond of contained, linear stories. My favorite game is called Hollow Knight, where you're this little insectoid knight creature battling through an old, ruined kingdom called Hallownest…"

"Sounds like a big 'ol waste of time to me."

"Oh, it is! But boy is it a _fun_ waste of time."

Suddenly, Winona shivered. "Woah! Did we just catch a stray winter breeze or something? It feels like the temperature just dropped ten deg…uh, are you alright?"

Allena wasn't alright. She'd felt the temperature drop too, and she knew what that meant.

She looked around for the source, and sure enough she saw a puddle of shadow coursing through the grass towards them like a snake. She nodded to it, and Winona caught sight of it too. Once it was about six feet away, it surged upwards into a seven-foot tall pillar of darkness which quickly took on human features. At last the darkness paled to smooth, ashen skin and neat black silk.

Winona was staring at the phenomenon open-mouthed, but Allena had seen it before. "Hello, Maxwell," she said dully.

Maxwell blinked his eyes open, and she saw with at least some relief that silvery-grey irises shone out of them. They weren't the demon's solid white.

He smiled broadly at her and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Winona's voice cut in, loud and bombastic. "So this is Maxy! Hey, nice ta finally meetcha!"

Maxwell's head snapped around to look at her. _"Excuse_ me?"

Evidently she'd gotten over her initial surprise. She was grinning at him, though Allena thought there was an edge to the smile. "You're Maxy, right? Oh, man. My sister was always going on about you. You knew my sister, right? Charlie?"

To Allena's shock, she saw Maxwell's eyes widen. The expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared and he said, "Ah. You must be…" he paused, seemingly racking his brain for the name. He narrowed his eyes as remembrance lit his features. "…Winona."

The woman nodded deeply. "The one and only. So, what brings you around, Maxy? Got another hound mound for us to put down? Maybe a Deerclops to slay?"

Maxwell stared at her coldly. "My name is Maxwell. Not Maxy, or anything else." His eyes flickered quickly to Allena when he said this, and she remembered their last conversation.

_Who are you, Mister Carter?_

He continued. "And no, nothing for you to deal with today. I was just hoping for a moment alone with Miss Jones. Perhaps you'd be willing to oblige?"

Winona shook her head and said, "Nah."

Allena was filled with equal parts fear and relief. She didn't want to be alone with Maxwell, but what would he do to Winona if she irked him?

And he certainly seemed irked by the response. He didn't reply to Winona's flagrant disrespect, merely stared at her with wide, unreadable eyes.

She went on. "Say, I don't suppose you've been keepin' in touch with Charlie, have ya? I know you two used to be close."

"We were business partners. Nothing more."

Winona raised an eyebrow, and Allena saw real anger burning in those orbs. "Oh? Just business partners? Man, I must have really misread all those letters from my little sister. Every week it seemed to be 'Maxy' this and 'Maxy' that, and, 'Oh, Winona, you'd love him. I know _I_ sure do.'"

At this Maxwell actually flinched, and Winona, seeing this, pressed harder.

"You should have read the letters, the way she talked about you. She was just crazy about you. Honestly, I thought I'd be getting the wedding invitation any day!"

Allena watched in fascination as each little revelation seemed to drill into Maxwell, just a bit. At this last, a powerful shudder racked his frame, and for a moment Allena thought he was going to go mad. She hadn't seen him so affected since the first time she'd brought up Charlie to him.

And that time he'd thrown her across the Thornwood Base and barely stopped his shadows from killing her.

But it looked like he had himself under control this time. He blinked, and all at once he seemed to totally dismiss Winona's needling words. "All water under the bridge, as they say. Though if you'd like to ask her about it sometime, I'd recommend staying out after dark. Perhaps you'll be able to manage a few words with her before she tears your lungs out and decorates the trees with your intestines."

Allena looked back to Winona, afraid that the comment would be too much, but she was already back to her cool self. "Yeah, I'll get right on that," she said sarcastically. "So, you wanted to talk to Allena? Go right ahead. I'm not stopping you."

He looked mildly disgusted with the woman's candor. "Very well." He turned to Allena and said, "I was rather hoping we could continue our previous conversation. If you have the time…?"

Allena's eyes widened, and she glanced at Winona. He wanted to talk about the deal.

Her voice, though casual in tone, was a bit tight. "Actually, Winona, think we could have just a few minutes alone? We won't be long."

Winona looked at her disbelievingly. "What?! You want to talk to this creep alone? No way. He set the Treeguards on you the last time he was here! And there's one RIGHT THERE." She pointed at the sleeping giant that was currently providing them with shade.

Maxwell's lips widened into a narrow, crocodile smile and he said, "Rest assured, my intentions today are entirely diplomatic. No hounds, no Treeguards…just a short conversation. You can allow us that, surely?"

Winona looked about ready to object, but Allena said, "Please, Winona? I can take care of myself. I just need a few minutes. Please?"

Winona seemed to struggle with the request. She didn't look happy about it. Then she sighed and said, "I'm getting Wilson. You have until he gets here. So you'll want to make it quick."

She started walking away.

That wasn't a lot of time. Wilson was in the base that morning chatting with Warly over a cup of some hot, spicy broth he'd made them for breakfast. Winona was strolling somewhat casually, but it would still only take her maybe two minutes to get back to base and Wilson half as much time to rush out to greet Maxwell.

As soon as Winona was out of earshot, Maxwell cut to the chase. "So, my dear. It seems we've hit a spot of trouble. I'm eager to see our deal closed, but you are obviously quite reluctant to pay your dues."

She glared at him. "You expected me to die sooner than this. It isn't my problem that you underestimated me."

 _"You?"_ Maxwell said in mock surprise. "Why, I don't think I underestimated _you_ at all. But I hadn't anticipated you coming across so many little friends." He said this with some contempt. "Had it merely been you and Wilson, you would have been mine months ago. But you insist on hiding behind your allies."

Allena's eye twitched. An image of Wolfgang lying in the base, half-dead and covered in bandages, popped into her mind. Wes, unconscious while an army of hounds assaulted their doors. Webber, hands covered in bee stings, weeping over his spider-mama as she lay on her back, legs curled into her chest, wheezing. All close misses.

They could only get lucky so many times.

She shook her head to clear the images and said, "Again, not my problem."

But this time, her voice sounded weak, even to her. Maxwell capitalized on this. "Oh, but I think it is. After all, how do you feel each time your friends are hurt fending off my debt collectors? How would you feel if one of them was killed?"

He took a few steps forward, and Allena stood to meet him. He came toe to toe with her and leaned down, nose an inch from her own. "How would you feel if dear Wilson was killed?"

He must have seen the fear and despair that his words invoked flash in her eyes, because he said quietly, "Yes. I thought so."

Wilson's enraged bellow came issuing from the base, and they both knew they only had another minute. Maxwell did not waste it. He lifted a hand, snapped his fingers, and a shadowy limb burst forth from the ground. In it was a steaming cup of tea.

Maxwell plucked it up, leaned back, and held it under her nose. It smelled lovely – English Breakfast with a hint of sugar. And something else.

His other hand came up to stroke the side of her face, and she did not draw back. She was transfixed by the light trail of vapor curling up from the steaming cup hovering just before her lips, paralyzed by the sense of impending disaster that Maxwell's words had conjured up. Wilson. How would she feel if Wilson was killed protecting her?

"Come now," Maxwell crooned, his glittering grey eyes boring into her own. "I know you do not want them to suffer on your behalf. To die on your behalf. And I will take more than adequate care of you." He ran his fingers gently through her hair, and pressed the cup of tea to her lips. It was hot, just barely hot enough to steam in the chill Maxwell generated. The perfect temperature.

"Drink," he said softly, encouragingly. "I will leave them alone if you only drink. It will be so very fast. And then you need never fear for them again. They'll find a way home, go back to their cozy little lives, they'll forget you in time…no more pain, no more worry …just drink…"

He went on with these sweet, soothing words, and Allena's lips parted just slightly. She saw Maxwell's breathing quicken, his pupils dilate as the tea trickled into her mouth—

_"Get away from her!"_

Maxwell whipped around, hissing, and the teacup fell to the ground and vanished into shadow. There was a blur of black and a flash of red as Maxwell dodged out of the way of Wilson's spear, Wilson in his fine red vest with the white undershirt.

He stormed in front of her, keeping Maxwell at bay, but Maxwell wasn't looking at him. He was looking past the man to her, and Allena was very conscious of the sweet, steaming mouthful of tea teetering just on the edge of her throat…

Her throat contracted, her eyes widened, and she dropped to her knees and spat the mixture out onto the ground.

Maxwell's lips curled in disappointment as she sat there spitting repeatedly to get every trace of the brew out of her mouth. "I see," he said disdainfully. "Very well. Just know this – what comes next, you brought upon yourself."

The shadows began coalescing around him, and as they prepared to draw him down into the ground once more he said, "Yourself…and everyone else."

And he was gone.

* * *

Maxwell sighed as he slipped through the shadows on his way back to the underground. He'd been so close, but alas…

The Shadow whispered to him, clearly pleased with the outcome of the meeting. _Did you really expect her to give in so easily?_

He sighed. No, he supposed he hadn't.

_Why even give her the chance? Do you not want to see your creation-in-progress put to the test? Do you not want to watch them writhe and struggle and suffer and die?_

Oh, it wasn't that. But the thought of enticing her to end it herself…of knowing that he had brought her to it…

The Shadow laughed loudly enough in his mind to make him wince in irritation. _What a delightful plaything you are! And here I thought you might have been trying to find a way to spare the others for some sad and silly reason._

He sneered. What were the others to him? Hardly even a source of entertainment anymore.

He coalesced into being back in his workshop. The creature was more than half-finished by then, and was looking quite frightful. The imp was still strung up above them, forced to watch the creation of the being that its own metasoul would empower. How droll.

_Stay here and finish your work. I have business to attend. Do not talk to the imp._

With no warning whatsoever, the Shadow departed, locking Maxwell into the projection in his studio. Normally the Shadow left him bound to the throne, but in this case it was impatient to see his work finished. It left him with only the power necessary to maintain the projection, nothing more.

Maxwell supposed that he could redivert the power and use it for something creative – breaking the imp out, for instance – but what would be the point of that? No, he would do as he was told. For now.

Almost as soon as the Shadow's presence was gone, the myriad of emotions that it always imparted on him vanished as well. Gone was the pride, the wry amusement. Gone was the lust, the sadism. For a moment he was hollow…then the pain started seeping back in.

He took hold of a nearby worktable and doubled over as nausea gripped him. She almost drank it. She'd come so close. And if she had, she would be writhing on the ground before him now, frothing, twitching, jerking. The Shadow, and the Maxwell that existed while they were fused, would not have left her to die amongst friends. It would have dragged her down here to thrash out the last of her life on the cold stones of the underground.

He took a deep breath and stood up straight. The imp was watching him.

Its mouth was still bound, so it could not say anything, but it was staring at him with avid curiosity.

He turned from it with a noise of disgust. Let it stare.

He picked up his work where he'd left off, affixing a number of long, sharp claws to the arm of his little monstrosity. Curled, or straight? He'd done enough of curling claws. He'd straighten them out a bit. Better for slashing rather than clinging.

He thought back to his earlier actions. He knew there was no saving the girl. He was resigned to that, and had resolved only to protect her from the brunt of the Shadow's wrath. As for the others…

He still did not know what their ultimate plan was. He'd caught sight of them working on something – perhaps even trying to recreate the Gateway that had brought Wilson here – but with their limited knowledge of the powers at work they would accomplish nothing. The Shadow would not have allowed the scientist to keep the knowledge of the Gateway.

Even if it had, they lacked the materials. Without the Shadow subsidizing the trip, they would need far more energy to get out than it had taken to get in. The power it would take to rip open a hole to Earth, even for the brief amount of time it would take for the group to pass through, would be well beyond anything they could store and channel with paltry gold. A few lightning bolts, some decent gems – higher quality than the ones he popped into the hounds when he was feeling mischievous, of course – would suffice for the power, but channeling it would require something more than what they had on hand.

Still, there was hope. Maxwell knew that the materials they needed were in the Constant; it could take the group years to find them, and he dared not direct the party towards them himself, but so long as he could keep the Shadow convinced that they were not a threat, there was hope.

Hope for them. Not for the girl.

He thought back to the meeting, and this time his thoughts slid to the woman. Winona. What she'd said had brought him no surprise – he'd long been aware of Charlie's feelings for him – but it had pained him to hear it stated so bluntly.

Charlie. Charlie. Alive, but so far beyond his reach. Even with his extensive understanding of the Shadow's power, he could not even begin to fathom how to save her. Going by her behavior, it seemed as though some aspect of the Shadow had possessed her as well. But her lack of mind, of willpower – her total inability to fight back – it was like part of her was completely gone.

Was that truly even Charlie anymore? The woman he'd once loved, had once planned to marry? He feared the answer was 'no'. Perhaps the Shadow had simply possessed her husk, donned her as a mask that it might use to keep him in line.

But then, why keep her hidden from him all those years?

The Shadow's fury upon his discovery that Charlie may have been alive had been tremendous. It was what had gotten the Shadow thinking about hurrying the deal with Allena along in the first place. Why? If she was beyond saving, why bother?

A faint glimmer of hope still shone in that matter, but even on his best days he could not bring himself to embrace it. He hadn't the freedom to study her plight, to seek her out. She was as isolated from him as the moment they'd first arrived here. He didn't even know where she was.

He still recalled it, falling through some endless black and white tunnel, ripped along by some force far beyond his understanding or control; Charlie screaming for him, reaching for him, being torn away from him…

There was a muffled bleating, and Maxwell was jerked out of his reverie. He turned to scowl up at his prisoner and said, "Make that sound again and I'll be happy to plug your nose, imp. I'm working."

As he said this he realized that he hadn't been doing more than absently rolling a piece of clay round and round in his hand, not quite sure of what he wanted to do with it. What was he making next?

Oh, yes. The snout.

He began flattening it out a bit, elongating it, pressing here and there to achieve the desired shape. The imp bleated again.

Maxwell's eye twitched. He turned to look up at the creature once more and said, "Curious about my moment of weakness? Merely a brief bout of dizziness, I assure you. I just got back from a visit aboveground, after all. Quite a trip. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Allena is doing quite well. The weather is fine, the birds are singing. I do hope the weather holds up. Carnage is so much nicer on a beautiful day, is it not?"

He expected anger from the imp, but its expression held only curiosity.

Maxwell stared back, and got a mildly uneasy feeling. Could the imp possibly sense the absence of the Shadow?

No. Preposterous. Maxwell with the Shadow and Maxwell without it had become so similar that the differences were all but indistinguishable. No one could see through the façade.

_The girl did. Allena. It took her some time, but she saw through it…_

He silenced his inner monologue. He turned from the imp. He got back to work.

He sculpted for hours. Every now and then the Shadow would dip in, see him still sculpting, and depart again. It wasn't until past midnight that he finally finished.

He sent out a mental call to the Shadow, and at once it came rushing. Its voice echoed outside of his head.

_Is it done?_

It sounded impatient, and Maxwell was mildly amused by this. Still, best not to keep the cretin waiting. _Quite,_ he thought back. _Have a look._

The Shadow pressed on his psyche and Maxwell let it in. It began dragging his body around the piece, looking closely at it, and Maxwell provided it with a metal list of the abilities the creature would exhibit. Much like the Deerclops with its icy blows, this creature would have a few tricks up its sleeve.

The Shadow seemed pleased. _Very well._

The Shadow sliced his creation into more manageable pieces and sent them flying onto the set of pedestals that surrounded the room. From what little he understood of the process, whatever was on the pedestals would be built down below and then reassembled when everything was finished.

_Construction will begin at once. Until then…_

Maxwell gritted his teeth. He recognized that tone.

The throne.

Sure enough, the Shadow severed his connection to the homunculus and all at once Maxwell found himself encased in his mortal form once more.

Mortal. Ha.

He sensed the Shadow readying to depart, and he spat, "What, no tip? I would have thought my efforts would deserve some reward, at least."

_Do not test me, worm. You'll have your reward at the end of this. I daresay she'll keep you…entertained._

A series of conjured images flashed into his head, all dredged up from the various dreams his subconscious had been throwing at him since his first encounter with the girl, and Maxwell snarled at the invasion of privacy. The Shadow departed, its laughter ringing in his ears, and Maxwell was alone with his thoughts once more.

He sat, staring into the darkness, for an indeterminable amount of time. He was only truly himself when he was alone…

But oh, how he loathed what he had become.

* * *

Allena sat in the base, worrying. Of course, everyone seemed to be doing that today.

Well, not everyone, but definitely Wilson and Winona. And Wes, of course. Everyone had heard about Maxwell popping in to visit, and while Wolfgang and Warly were fairly sanguine – Allena hadn't been hurt, after all – the others were all fairly concerned. Winona because she knew there was something going on between her and Maxwell; Wes because he _knew_ what was going on between her and Maxwell; and Wilson because she'd been within five feet of Maxwell.

Still, she'd done her best to assuage them all that she was fine, though she had explained that every time Maxwell showed up, bad things tended to follow. This time in particular she was concerned that this trip had likely been a herald of his next attempt on their lives.

They were all resolved to get back to work bright and early tomorrow to crank out the rest of the pieces for the device. There was a brief debate over whether or not to also divert some manpower to the building of a catapult, and in the end they'd decided that Winona and Wolfgang would work on it for the next couple of days while Warly took over helping Wilson with the forge and Wes took over all the food stuff. Allena was still on resource gathering and general assistance.

It was nearing sunset, and she was going through her things. Staying organized was important while in a camp setting, and she'd been letting her living space get way out of hand. She'd wanted to get a lot more done that day, but it hadn't been in the cards. She suspected that, despite her best efforts to spit it all out, she had gotten a bit of Maxwell's tea down. She further suspected that it had been chock-full of cyanide, if the mild headache, nausea, and general dizziness she'd had all day were any indication.

She'd gone through her main pack, cleaned everything up, and put it all back together so everything was tidy and accessible. Now she was going through her travel pack.

She reached into it and felt something round and smooth and totally unfamiliar. Frowning, she pulled it out and—

 _"Ugh!_ Oh, _what…"_

A skull. There was a human skull in her backpack. Why was there a human skull in her backpack?!

Wilson, who had been sitting in one of the new chairs Wolfgang had finished up that day reading, called out distractedly without looking up from his book, "Are you alright?"

She was about to start ranting, but then she remembered – the hound mound. When she and Wortox had been taking it apart, she'd found this skull in the pile. A few tufts of grey air still clung to it and a pair of square glasses still drooped from it.

Also, it still looked stern. It seemed to look up at her as though saying, _Didn't you promise that you were going to bury me weeks ago?_

Huh. Right. She felt a bit bad about that.

She called back to Wilson, "All fine. Sorry. Just found a human skull in my backpack."

"Ah. I hate it when that happens. Quite alarming when you don't recall where it came from."

…Okay, apparently this was a relatable problem in the Constant.

It was getting on towards sunset. She thought at first that a funeral would have to wait until tomorrow when she recalled that tonight was a full moon. It would be alright if she got caught out past dark.

She regarded the stern skull for a minute. It reminded her of an old schoolmarm. Whoever she was, it was high time she was buried.

She fetched a large rabbit skin, carefully wrapped the skull in it, and tied it off with a short weave of recycled rope from one of their broken weapons. Wilson looked up from his book again and asked, "What are you up to, my love?"

"I found this skull in the hound mound, and whoever it belonged to deserves a decent burial." She grabbed a shovel and headed out. "I'll be back in an couple hour or so."

"It's getting late…"

"Full moon tonight," she explained. "I'll be fine."

Wilson hummed. "Alright, but take Glommer with you. I'm sure he'd appreciate the opportunity to get out and about."

No doubt. He'd been stuck inside all day. "Good call," she said, and went over to grab his flower. She considered bringing Chester, too, but Wolfgang had really worn him out carting lumber to the other base all day. Though the sun was just setting, he was already fast asleep.

She tucked Glommer's flower away somewhere safe and headed for the exit. Glommer followed after her, predictably thrilled to be going out for an evening walk.

She considered where to bury the skull, and realized that right where she found it would be just fine. The Living Grove had recently been renamed the Pleasant Grove, given that there was nothing in it that was particularly more alive than anything else, and it had turned into a rather pleasant place. She detoured to pick a few flowers from around the flowhive, and once she had a small bouquet she headed for the Vargwood.

She also paused along the way to pluck some grass and a couple of nice sticks, and she tied them off into a standard cross as she walked. It didn't take long to reach the grove, and as soon as she did she set the skull on a small, grassy knoll along with Glommer's flower and the rest of the supplies. He hovered contentedly, watching as she got to work.

She picked out a small patch of earth hemmed in by three trees and broke ground. The soil itself wasn't hard, likely thanks to the few bouts of rain they'd gotten lately, but there were a lot of roots from the surrounding trees. It took a fair bit of time to get through them all, and by the time the hole was deep enough it was almost dark.

She wiped her brow, set the shovel aside, and fetched the skull. She felt a twinge of sympathy for this person she'd never known.

She settled down in front of the hole and lowered the bag in. She supposed the glasses might have been good for something, but she didn't hold with stealing from the dead.

She couldn't recall if you were supposed to say the final words before or after the actual burial. It had been a while since her parents' funeral. She decided on after, since it would be more final. She quickly filled in the hole, cleaned the area up, and laid the flowers and cross on the grave.

She fetched Glommer's flower and he hovered beside her as she stood contemplating the grave. She looked to him and said, "Hey, Glommer. Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

Shockingly, no response. He just hung there in the air buzzing benignly. As always.

She smiled. He was a peaceful presence; the perfect companion for a funeral.

She tried to gather her words, but she'd never been very good with speeches or anything of the like. Finally she decided to just go with whatever came to mind.

"So," she started, feeling just a bit silly talking to herself in the middle of the woods at sunset. "I guess you were probably like all of us. You got stuck here, maybe alone, and couldn't get back out. I'm sorry we weren't able to find you before…well, you know."

She cleared her throat and went on. "I know this probably wasn't the best place to spend the last months or years of your life. I know how awful it can be here. I know how much suffering is around every corner. I just want you to know…um…that I know what you might have gone through. I just want you to know that you aren't unknown. I just want you to know that, even if I never even knew your name, I'll remember you."

She thought that was an alright goodbye. Not very poetic, maybe, but it was from the heart. She thought that counted for something. She would close with the 23rd Psalm and call it good.

She took a deep breath, laced her fingers, and dipped her head. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside still waters…"

The 23rd Psalm was one that her mother had had her memorize in homeschool. She hadn't understood the point at the time, but now she was glad she knew it. As far as bible verses went, it was a pretty good one.

"…Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I shall fear no…evil…"

A shiver raced down her spine, and she blinked open her eyes. The sun had set by then, but the moonlight wasn't showing through. And as dusk faded to darkness, she realized why.

She could hear raindrops pattering on the pine canopy above her head. Rain meant clouds. Clouds meant no moon.

Her throat constricted as she felt the presence emerge, and as it did she croaked out the last line of the verse: "For though art with me."

God may have been with her, but something else was well on its way, too. The creature in the dark was approaching rapidly. She could feel it. She reached for her back pocket to find her flashlight but came up empty handed. She'd left it at base under the assumption that it would be a full moon tonight. Also gone, on a quick inspection of her remaining pockets, was her phone.

She had nothing to make a light.

She turned to run back to base, knowing full well that she would never make it, but a single step brought a blinding pain raking across her sternum. She gasped, brought her hand to her chest, and felt blood…but not much. It was shallow.

It was already there. The creature – Charlie – roared playfully. Allena and raised her hands in self-defense, and a new set of scratches appeared on her forearms. The Shadow knew she had no light and no defense. It probably also knew that there was no one coming to help her, or if there was that it would take too long to get there.

She was done for.

A bible verse was a great comfort, but the Shadow of Death was no laughing matter, and fear was inescapable. Her heart pounded in her throat as the Shadow darted in again. It snarled gleefully, swiping at her back and leaving several more long, shallow cuts.

She screeched in pain and gasped, "Ch-Ch-Charlie?" Maybe she could break through to her. "Charlie? Please, my name is Allena. Your sister is here. She's looking for you."

The snarl deepened, and for a moment it paused. Then something barreled into her full force, slamming her back against one of the trees surrounding the freshly dug grave. The Shadow was now growling loudly, very loudly, and there was no humanity in that sound. Only rage. Rage. Pain. Darkness.

And then…light.

Allena realized that there was light coming from somewhere when she became aware that she could just barely see the shadow's form in front of her, a dark and deadly silhouette. It was hunched in an aggressive stance, ready to rip her apart, but before it could its growling subsided and it flung itself back from the white, misty glow that was issuing from the ground beneath its feet.

As Allena watched, something bulbous and white emerged from the grave. At first it was impossible to define, just a white blob with a few indistinguishable features near the top. But as she looked closer she saw the features were recognizable. Two rectangles, and behind them, two sets of wrinkles. Wait…those weren't…?

The eyes behind the glasses popped open, and Allena screamed.

It was a _ghost._

She pressed herself back against the tree, but there was nowhere to go. The ghost radiated light, but only for a couple of feet. Enough to keep the shadow at bay, nothing more. If she ran, she was dead.

But though the ghost seemed to be glaring at her somewhat irately, it wasn't making any move towards her. It just hovered there, not unlike Glommer, staring at her.

She stared back. Then she looked down at the grave. "Oh. Um…are you the person I just buried?"

The ghost raised an eyebrow at her as though to ask, _What do you think?_

"Uh. Right."

It really was a ghost. A straight-up kid-under-a-bedsheet ghost, with eyes and glasses and no mouth to speak. Allena could hear the Shadow out there, just beyond the range of the light, snarling unhappily.

She and the ghost stared at each other for a minute, then she said, "Thank you for driving that thing off. I was in real trouble."

The ghost's expression mellowed, and she thought it looked mildly pleased with itself. It was amazing how much expression the eyes could convey.

"So," Allena asked, grasping for conversation. "Are you okay? I mean, did I do okay with the grave? I guess I can't have, given that you're still here. I mean, if I did a good job, you'd be at peace now, right?"

The ghost looked slightly affronted, as though offended by her simplistic logic. "Okay, never mind, sorry. Um."

The ghost rolled its eyes and looked over at the darkness where the sullen snarling was coming from. It gave it a thoroughly disapproving look.

Allena bit her lip. She was covered in scratches. The bleeding wasn't bad at all, but the pain was awful. She decided to take a chance, and she asked, "I don't mean to be a bother, ma'am, but could you help me get back to my base? It's nearby."

The ghost turned to look at her appraisingly. Evidently her manners made a good impression, because the ghost blinked its eyes in a nod and turned to go.

Allena followed, Glommer buzzing close behind. Once, he lagged far enough back that the Shadow made a bid for him, and Allena had to snatch him back into the light before it could. She held him close the rest of the way.

The ghost floated as gracefully as Glommer, just at walking speed, and seemed to be totally unperturbed by the darkness. It also seemed to know where it was going, because they emerged from the Vargwood fairly quickly.

As they did, Allena said, "I'm sorry it took so long for me to bury your remains. Was the grave alright?"

The ghost turned back, giving her a satisfied look before continuing its glide. Allena was relieved.

Just before they reached the base, Wilson flew out of it with a torch in one hand, a spear in the other, and a wild expression on his face. He took one look at Allena standing in the light of the ghost, and gaped. Then his expression twisted up in horror upon seeing the scratches on her arms and chest, and he sprinted forward with his spear extended. "Why you…! Get away from her!"

The ghost did not retreat. It merely hovered there, staring at Wilson, looking utterly unimpressed.

Allena ran in front of it at once and said, "Woah, Wilson! It's okay! She didn't do this – the shadow did. It got dark so fast, I didn't even realize it was overcast."

Wilson stopped just short of them. He looked her over briefly, saw that she wasn't lethally wounded, and peeked over her shoulder at the ghost, which was still staring at him with one raised eyebrow as though saying, _Well, young man? Satisfied, or are you still planning on running me through?_

Allena put a hand on his shoulder and said, "She saved my life. If she hadn't appeared when she did, the shadow would have finished me off."

Wilson looked torn. On the one hand, the ghost had saved her. On the other hand…

"It's a ghost," he said bluntly. "An actual _ghost._ Frankly, this offends me as a scientist."

Allena looked back, thinking the ghost would be upset, but to her surprise she saw what she could have sworn was a commiserating expression on its face. It closed its eyes and nodded sympathetically.

Allena was relieved. Then she frowned. "Hey, wait a minute. How does _this_ bother you? You do magic all the time!"

The two of them looked at her with similar expressions of censure. Wilson said, "The laws that govern this world may be a bit unorthodox, but even I have standards! Ghosts do not meet them!"

Then he looked slightly embarrassed and clarified, "But, ah, given that you did rescue my fiancée, I suppose I ought to put my biases on hold." He stepped around Allena, faced the spirit directly, bowed at the waist and said, "Thank you for your assistance. You are, of course, welcome in our base if it's…to your liking…"

The spirit had gained an expression of acute interest upon Wilson's use of the word 'fiancée', and looked closely at Allena's left hand.

Allena held it up and Wilson winced. "No ring as of yet, I'm afraid. Good gems are difficult to find in the Constant, and I'm waiting for a really stunning one."

The ghost wore an expression of reserved judgement.

Allena lowered her hand and made a small noise of discomfort as she agitated the scratches on her arm. Wilson's gaze sharpened at once and he took her very carefully by the shoulder to lead her into the base. "Come. I'll treat your wounds."

She let him lead her into the base to the medical bench. Her head was starting to spin, and she felt a bit nauseous.

Wilson moved quickly and efficiently, fetching the medical supplies while calling out, "Warly! Put a pot of water on to boil, will you? Allena was injured. Also, we have a guest."

"Right away! Who is our guest? I will have to introduce myself."

He popped his head around the corner, saw the ghost, and shrieked, _"Sacré bleu!"_

The ghost watched him, seemingly waiting for something, until he swallowed heavily and said in a small voice, "Ah, hello. Forgive me. You are…that is, I am…I have not…uh…you startled me," he finished lamely.

The ghost seemed to regard the greeting as passable. Barely. It nodded to their chef and turned back to watch Wilson and Allena.

Warly went, "Ehhh…oh, right! The water."

She heard him shuffle around and start a pot of water boiling. As Wilson took a look at the scratches on her arm she asked him, "Do you think they'll need stitches?"

She asked this casually, but she couldn't quite hide her trepidation. She still recalled the last time she'd gotten stitches. Physical stitches, that was. And that was with a single gash on her shoulder. She wouldn't be able to endure all of these without a sedative.

Thankfully, Wilson shook his head. "No. These ones at least are shallow. Let's see the rest."

He looked to the ghost, who was still hovering there, and waited. It stared at him for a long moment before rolling its eyes again and turning around, intent on respecting her privacy. It drifted into the other portion of the base, and Allena couldn't help a small smile as she heard Warly give a small yelp of startlement.

Wilson deftly removed her shirt. He was getting very good at that, and the thought warmed her up and dulled her pain a bit. The pain was dulled a touch more as she leaned back and let him run his fingers over her shoulders while examining the wounds on her sternum. As he looked to be preparing a mental checklist, Allena added, "I have more on my back."

He turned her around to look, and sighed. "My love, I've said it once and I fear I'll say it a hundred more times. You always come back to me injured."

She chuckled weakly. "I know. I'm sorry. Think you'll be able to patch me up?"

"Easily, my love. Just as soon as that water is boiling."

While they waited for it to boil, Wilson prepared everything else. It was so calming to watch him work, to see how quickly and precisely he moved, how easily he planned ahead. She'd felt so safe with him that very first night he'd dragged her, wounded, back to this very same bench. And as she sat there covered in blood and panting in pain, she noted that her fear had long-since vanished. Wilson always did that so easily – chased the fear away.

Well…almost always.

Maxwell's earlier words came floating back to her. She didn't even want to think about them. Wilson, hurt protecting her. Dying for her. She didn't think she'd be able to bear it. She'd come so close to drinking that tea, to just ending it.

It had been Wilson's presence that had stopped her. The idea of him watching her convulse and die in his arms was equally unbearable. But even thinking about what Maxwell had said…

_How would you feel if dear Wilson was killed…?_

She locked her eyes on the clean washrag Wilson was preparing for use on her. She couldn't even ponder it.

Had she made the right choice? What if her continued existence got anyone else hurt? What if Wilson was injured protecting her?

 _Then you'll take care of him just as he's taking care of you,_ she answered herself soothingly. _Just trust him. Trust him to take care of you. To protect you. To always come back to you._

Wilson cleaned her wounds so carefully she barely even flinched. She trusted him to take care of her. To protect her. But to always come back to her?

She wished she could. She really did.

But oh, how she feared for him.


	45. Herald

Two weeks later, most of the components for the Gateway were finished.

Webber had dropped by a week ago and Allena had asked if he would be willing to spend a few days helping them out since they were all so overworked. When she'd explained how close they were to getting out of there, Webber had been through the roof with excitement. He'd promised to stay until everything was finished. She'd asked him if mama long-legs still needed his help at all, but it seemed that she was 100% recovered.

Webber had first helped Wolfgang and Winona finish off their catapult, putting his webbing to use on some of the parts, and the catapult now stood just outside the entrance to their base. They'd tested it out the previous day, and it had worked perfectly. It would be able to take care of threats as far away as the Vargwood tree line, so long as they didn't get within its minimum range.

There were a dozen small boulders for ammunition piled next to it. The only downside was that it took two people to operate – one to aim, one to crank.

Everyone had noticed that there hadn't been any hounds or other threats since the Torrent of Toads, and this was met with various reactions. Wolfgang and Webber were nothing but cheery about it, Winona and Wes seemed mostly unconcerned, and Allena, Wilson, and Warly were all fairly worried. The last time there had been a sizable gap between Maxwell's attacks, it had preceded the Deerclops.

That was what Allena feared – a giant. Wilson didn't think Maxwell had that much in him anymore, but Warly gave her fears due credit. "You did not see the Quacken or the Tiger Shark," he'd reminded Wilson politely when Wilson claimed that nothing could come close to rivaling the winter colossus.

"Well, I don't see the Quacken rising up out of one of our ponds, and you killed the Tiger Shark, so I daresay we'll be alright," he'd replied tartly.

Allena wasn't so sanguine, but at the rate they were making progress, she was finally feeling more optimistic. Another few days and they could begin construction. Winona had already made a generator to store the electricity they would need for the Gateway, hooked it up to Wilson's lightning rod, and a well-placed storm a few days prior had fairly well filled it up.

As for their new ethereal friend, she showed up just about every night. The first evening she'd joined them all for dinner she'd hovered behind Wolfgang the entire time, staring austerely down at him while everyone else ate, and the poor man had gone white as a sheet and trembled the entire time. Finally Allena had taken their ghastly friend aside and let her know that Wolfgang, for all his apparent might, was dreadfully afraid of anything spooky or supernatural, and their new acquaintance had promptly and politely moved to the other side of the campfire.

Through a series of yes-or-no questions, they'd managed to determine that she'd been a fairly old woman, a librarian, and that she'd valued a good education above all else. They'd also learned whose book it was that Krampus had tossed off his golden shelf midway through Allena's visit.

They finished up their work every day around dusk, and the rest of the evening was typically spent preparing for the next day of work. A few days ago, Allena had spent her evening hours reading that agricultural tome from the cave in the hopes of helping Wes prepare their farm plots for the coming summer, which was approaching rapidly. That night, as she'd read by the light of her little camp lantern, their ghostly friend had dropped in again and stared hard at the cover of her book. Needless to say, it hadn't taken Allena long to piece it together.

She'd asked the librarian whether there was anything in there that would help them prepare for summer, and the spirit had directed her to a section on it right away. She'd found a number of useful tips in the chapter, and had talked to Wes about implementing them. He'd mimed that he'd get on it right away.

Of course, the obvious goal had been to be gone before summer started, but at this rate that was unlikely to happen. In fact, going by the temperature that day, summer may well have already begun.

Still, a week of hard work and conversations with their spooky new friend had left them well off for the start of the season. Allena was a bit worried, herself – everyone else had already lived through at least one summer, but she was new to the threat. All she really knew about it was that they would need a lot of nitre for endothermic fires, and thermal eggs to keep themselves cool.

That was what Wilson had been working on all day. If they wanted to be able to work through the summer without overheating, they would all need at least one on hand, and Wilson only had four.

As he chipped away at the stones he'd hewn out of the cliff early that morning, Allena sat nearby working at one of her favorite pastimes – weaving rope. It was a simple job, and it left her mind free to roam. They were both sitting in the shade of a hound pelt tarp he'd set up, sipping cool water, and chatting as the lunch hour grew closer. It was very pleasant.

"So, my love what do you foresee for us upon our return? Assuming another century has not passed in your absence?"

Allena had been forcing herself to think about that more and more. It didn't do to ignore the struggles they might face. Still, on a hot, lazy day like this is was challenging to think strenuously. She'd just assume the best. "I think the best thing to do would be to pick up some local jobs. Think you'll be able to endure some peon work until we get everything settled? Grocery store clerk? Pet store assistant? Pancake flipper?"

"My magnificent mind, put to such menial labor? For you, my love, anything." He paused, then added, "Almost anything. I believe I'll leave the pancake flipping to you."

She smiled lightly. It was really something, imagining their life together. "Hopefully I'll still have access to the house. Almost everything was still in a trust when I left, but I think if my uncle passes away it will all go to my sister, and so long as she's still around…"

She trailed off with a pang of worry, and Wilson jumped right in. "She'll be fine. Based on what Warly said, time has been moving somewhat linearly recently. I cannot imagine more than a few years have gone by outside, if that. And your sister will be happy to have you back, yes?"

"She'll be ecstatic. I imagine she's out of her mind with worry right now. I hate not being able to let her know that I'm okay."

Wilson set down his axe to start chiseling out some detail work with one of Allena's Black and Decker tools. "The pain of loss will be mended by your return – how well I know."

"I hope so," Allena replied sadly. "I was the only family she had left."

Wilson started rounding off the stone he was working on. "You really don't count your uncle at all?"

She really didn't, and for good reason. After everything he'd put them through, she'd be nothing but glad if she came back to find him long gone. Still, that wasn't the sort of thing she normally talked about.

Allena almost answered with one of her automatic placations, but it occurred to her that – given that they were now engaged – she probably ought to be more truthful with Wilson. She'd always kept the most uncomfortable truths to herself to spare others worry or distress, but Wilson was going to be different. He would want to understand her, to be the person she could always confide in if she needed to.

She bit her lip and said, "Our uncle abused us."

Wilson looked up sharply. "Come again?"

Allena sighed, but since she'd already started, she went on. "He abused us. It used to just be Linda, but when she moved out he switched over to me. That was why she was so eager to leave, and why she never comes to visit. She's always just been focused on distancing herself from all that."

Wilson's jaw clenched, and she could tell that he was reigning in anger at this news. "And she simply left you to deal with this? Remind me how old you were at the time?"

"Twelve."

He bristled, but Allena raised a hand to calm him. "Wilson, it's alright. I've been thinking this stuff over for a long time. I learned how to deal with my uncle pretty quickly, so it was never too bad for me, but whatever happened to Linda really messed her up. I could tell, even if I didn't know the details." She took a deep breath. "It's why I never told her about it. And trust me, she spent years dropping hints, subtly leaving the door open for me to address it if it was an issue."

"Still, for her to leave her younger sibling in such a situation…was there nothing she could do? Could she not call someone? The police, perhaps?"

Allena ran out of grass and reached for another handful. "Wilson, that wasn't really an option at the time. Our parents had just died. Everything was in flux. Who knows what would have happened if we'd been thrown into the foster care system?"

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and said, "As bad as my uncle was, he was the evil I knew. I could deal with him. But being shipped around to goodness knows how many families and homes until I was just another kid lost in the system? I have no idea if that would have been better for me or not." She tied off the end of the rope she was working on. "All I know is that it took my sister years to get over all of that – to become the happy, healthy, successful person she is today – and I don't want to ruin that for her."

Allena actually found herself calmed by getting this all off her chest. She'd resolved to take it all on herself, everything she'd gone through, but it was nice to finally have someone to confide in. She concluded, "She found someone to make her happy, and the best thing I can hope for is that, when I get back, she'll be hanging in there just fine."

"And for everything that's happened, I've ended up happy, too. I mean," she said laughingly, "If I'd been shipped off to live with some cheerful, functional, non-abusive family somewhere else, I'd never have come across the Gateway. I've never have come here. And I'd never have met you."

Wilson raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And you'd also never have suffered the abundance of pain, fear, and stress that the Constant has forced upon you. If you had known all that this world had in store for you, would you truly have come here by choice?"

"Knowing you were here? In a heartbeat."

Wilson stared at her in disbelief. "I…am not worth all the things you have suffered."

Allena looked back down at her rope, smiling. "No. You're worth infinitely more."

She heard a sharp intake of breath, then the gentle clack of stone as he set his project down. He moved over to sit beside her, and as she looked up he pulled her in for a kiss—

"Ahem! Never minding Wolfgang, just grabbing some spare tools."

Wilson let go of her with a sigh and turned around to glare at Wolfgang, who had just walked through the door. Allena, blushing furiously, laughed awkwardly and said, "Uh, don't worry about it. Take whatever you need. How's the…stuff…coming?"

Wolfgang picked up a few tools and stuck them in his belt loop. "Stuff is good! Have just one more piece for Gateway, then can help Wilson with all his other little projects! Or maybe work on foods, ya?"

"Ya," Wilson growled. "In fact, maybe you should go do that _right now."_

Wolfgang chortled and said, "Ya, ya, am taking care of it! Leave you to your alone time. Say, where you are wanting spider-boy's help today, eh? He has been pestering Wolfgang for job all day!"

"Ah, could you have him gather up additional grass and sticks? We're running a bit low on kindling."

Wolfgang answered in the affirmative and departed. Once he was gone Wilson stretched and said, "Goodness. Our friends are gifted in the art of ruining the moment."

Allena's laughter was far more sincere at this comment. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you – did we ever restock the blow darts since the last hound raid?"

"Hm?" Wilson intoned. "Why? Are we running low?"

Allena sucked in a sharp breath and looked over at him guiltily. "Um. Have you…not check the stores…?"

Wilson looked mildly concerned. "How many did you use?"

"All of them."

Wilson jumped up like he'd sat on a hot coal. "All of them?! How did you use all of them?!"

"How?! There were…" she ran a quick mental count in her head. "Sixteen hounds! Plus the two in the clearing that I had to sedate. And the Treeguard! And it was only me and Winona for the first two waves! Besides, we still have some unpoisoned darts, and an entire jar of the MacTusk poison."

Wilson ran his fingers through his hair. "No darts. We haven't had a stockpile of darts for the last month, and who knows what Maxwell will be sending at us next. Oh, this isn't good."

Dismay began setting in. How had it completely slipped her mind to tell him about their dart shortage? How had no one else noticed that they were running low?

Wilson looked down at her and calmed himself. "Ah, never mind. I know you had little choice but to exhaust the dart stores. Safety is paramount, and you were low on options. But good heavens, if we don't stock up soon…"

He stopped, took a deep breath, and said, "Alright, come on. We need to stock up on darts. This takes precedence above all else."

Allena stood at once. "Yeah, of course. Just tell me what to do."

His eyes flickered around as he began compiling a mental checklist. "We'll need plenty of feathers, reeds, bee stingers, charcoal, and hounds' teeth."

"Well, we have plenty of hounds' teeth, and I think we still have a bunch of stingers. Do you want me to start on the charcoal, or should we just have Warly char some up for us while he's using the firepit to make lunch?"

"We'll assign that duty to Warly. There's a particular trick I use which involves red gems, it imparts the darts with a fair bit more _oomph_ than they might normally have, but I can jot down the process before we go and leave it with him. For now, I think we ought to head over to the island for reeds."

He actually looked quite optimistic at this. "You know, the growth of reeds is dependent upon tentacles, as I've learned. Once I cleared the nearby tentacle population out, my reed source was gone. I've had to travel quite a ways to get more when I need them. With that island now marshified, I have regular access to the plants once more!"

Well, that was some good news at least. "Awesome. So we go get some reeds?"

"We go get some reeds. And fetch Warly."

They suited up with armor and supplies. Wilson jotted down the process for charcoal making, shoved it into Warly's hand on their way out of the base – he'd just been returning from his work on the farm – and together they headed for the island.

Wes waved to them from his fishing pond on their way past, miming,

_What are you doing?_

And Allena called back, "Getting some reeds for more darts! Be back later!"

He gave them a thumbs up and mimed for them to be careful, then went back to fishing. That was fine by her. She'd be happy with fish for dinner.

Wilson sighed. He looked at Allena doubtfully, but before he could even suggest her staying behind she said, "Hey, I'm the one who ran us out of darts, and everyone else is busy today. I can deal with a few tentacles. It'll be fine."

"I know, my love, it's just…"

She pulled out her spear, patted her boomerangs, and shrugged her packs. "It'll be fine, Wilson. I have my armor, my weapons, and plenty of first-aid supplies. I also brought Warly's conch horn, so I can blow for help if we need it."

Wilson relented, and a few minutes later they reached the island.

They stared out at the plain and considered how best to tackle it. Since Maxwell had raised the island, it was never flooded anymore except right after a few days of serious rainfall. Fortunately there hadn't been much rain recently, so the ground was just the normal level of moist.

Tufts of reeds were sprouting everywhere, thick brown cattails sticking out here and there. Allena had always loved cattails. They were so much fun to pick apart and let drift in the wind.

Allena said, "We should see how fast the tentacles are today, right? If they're sluggish, we might be able to cut a few reeds before they come up."

Wilson nodded. "Quite correct. Hopefully they'll be slow in this warm, dry weather." His brow furrowed. "Er, have you ever harvested reeds before?"

"Nope. But it can't be hard, right?"

Wilson looked even more doubtful about having brought her along, but he shook it off. "No, not too hard. Just grab a few at the base, saw through them, then flee before the tentacle hits you. It's better if you can get away before they fully emerge, but that's not always possible. I'll go first to show you how it's done. Ready?"

"Ready."

She watched as Wilson took a deep breath, grabbed his hunting knife, and ran for the nearest clump. He dropped to his knees, took a few reeds by the base of the stalks, and started sawing. As soon as he did, three purple lumps popped up and started pulsing around him.

She almost called out a warning, then stopped herself. Wilson knew what he was doing.

Indeed, as soon as he had a few reeds he jumped up, flung himself forward, and was out of range before the tentacles even managed to get out of the ground. One of them popped up, swung around confusedly looking for the intruder, then sank back into the ground as it found nothing nearby to strike. The other two didn't even come up.

Wilson was impressive. He hit three reed clumps back-to-back while only waking up two tentacles. Then he looped around and came back to her.

As he pulled his pack off to store the reeds she said, "Dang. That was fast. I think I can do that."

Wilson heaved a short puff of breath. "Don't overestimate yourself. It's surprisingly tiring, sprinting between reeds and sawing that quickly. You'll wear yourself out fast if you aren't paying attention. And always plan your route before going."

"Got it."

She was already scanning the plain for a good string of reeds. She saw five in a row, not too far from each other, and figured it wouldn't be too hard to hit them all. She grabbed her knife, and just as she started running she heard Wilson start saying,

"Oh, be careful when the clumps are too close together! You can…"

He trailed off when he saw she was already running. That was good. She needed to concentrate. She reached a tuft, grabbed some reeds, and started sawing. The lumps popped up and began pulsing, but she was already off to the next clump with four good reeds in her hand before they even popped up. Ha! Easy!

She was a slightly faster sprinter than Wilson. Not only had she done track for years, she'd been regularly running for her life since coming to the Constant. This was cake for her.

She hit another clump, sawed for a few seconds, plucked the plants, and took off once more. Again, the tentacles weren't even close to being out of the ground. The next clump went just as fast, and this time she was so quick that she just jumped right over one of the tentacles in front of her to land before the next reed clump. She knelt down, started sawing—

"Allena! Behind you! _Move!"_

She heard the telltale squelching sound of a tentacle rearing up and, without hesitation, threw herself forward.

She felt a harsh stinging in her leg, and it was jerked back briefly before she managed to roll over and crawl backwards away. She realized that the last tentacle she'd evaded had still been just close enough that she'd still been in its sensory range when she'd knelt to take on the next clump of reeds. It had emerged, and she'd still just barely been in range of it. The stinging had been one of its spikes hitting her leg plate and nailing a centimeter through the wood.

The other tentacles around her, riled by her thrashing, also popped up. She scrambled to her feet and ran blindly out of their range as they started flailing. She accidentally stepped on another hibernating tentacle, and that one reared up too, throwing her off balance. She stumbled out of the way and kept running.

Purple lumps were popping up all around her, pulsing and quivering as she ran over them in her attempt to loop back. Thank goodness the nick on her leg was just that – a nick, rather than a serious puncture wound.

She made it back to safety, panting heavily. Wilson ran over and said, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just…a scratch."

Wilson grimaced. "If you hit two reed patches too close to each other, you can easily remain in the sensory circle of one of the guarding tentacles."

Ah. So that's what he'd been trying to say when she'd taken off.

She deposited the reeds she'd gotten in her pack and said, "Gotcha. I'll bear that in mind for the next run."

Her heart was pounding, and the bitter taste of panic was in her mouth from the near-miss, but she calmed somewhat as Wilson said, "Heavens, though – I thought _I_ was fast. You really are as sly as a fox, you know that?"

A glow of pride sprung up in her and she said, "Well, you know – when you're running for your life every other day…"

They spent the next hour collecting reeds for the darts, and thankfully only sustained a few minor bruises and no more cuts by the time they were done. After they'd hit every reed clump near the perimeter, though, Wilson said, "Okay, we'll want to give it a rest for now. The tentacles are wary of us, so their reaction times will be shorter. We can come back tomorrow for more, but this will get of through for the time being."

Allena nodded. That was fine by her. Wilson had been right – reed gathering was surprisingly energy-intensive.

As they turned to go, however, Allena saw something strange and ground to a halt. "Uh, Wilson, what is that?"

He turned to look in the direction she was pointing. She'd seen something strange peering out at her from the new thorn wood. It was greenish-brown, so it blended into the surroundings, and Wilson didn't see it at first. After staring straight in its direction for a few seconds, however, he gasped. "Oh, my! I've never seen anything like it."

It was fairly grotesque. Only around five feet tall and fairly bulky, it wasn't overly intimidating, but it was definitely ugly enough to make you not want to approach it. It was covered in slimy-looking scales, had short, rounded claws, and was adorned here and there with sickly yellow fins. Its eyes were white with round black pupils and one seemed to be slightly larger than the other. Its teeth were short and stubby, and it only had a few of them. Its legs were also short and stubby. Overall it looked…

"Hideous," Wilson said. "That thing is hideous."

Allena nodded. "Yeah, but at least it doesn't look like too much of a threat. Should we just…"

"Let it get itself killed by the tentacles? Sounds like a good plan to me."

There was a time when Allena would have been inclined to make sure the strange, vaguely humanoid creature knew to avoid the tentacles. She might even have tried to make friends with it. But virtually everything in this world, aside from Glommer and Chester, had tried to kill her, so those inclinations were pretty much depleted. "Yeah, alright. Let's just leave it. You hungry for lunch?"

"Starving."

She smiled as they made their way back to base. With all the news plans, friends, and threats that had defined her life lately, days like this – just her and Wilson, chatting by the fire, working on small projects, heading out and tackling simple chores like resource gathering – made her happy. It was just like old times.

* * *

A few hours later they were sat around an endothermic fire sipping tallbird and watercress soup. She and Wilson had spent the time making new darts, and the hot temperatures meant they were already dry and ready to go. It was early afternoon, and they were all enjoying a well-earned lunch break. Warly had identified an astounding number of herbs and other edible plants in the area, so their diets had become extremely diverse. This particular soup was really something.

"This is fantastic, Warly. I swear, you outdo yourself every day."

"Merci. I am glad you are enjoying it. It is not too salty, I hope?"

Wolfgang cut in. "No, is very good. And what is best is how much skinny chef makes! More than enough for Wolfgang's mighty stomach!"

"You know," Wilson added as he waved his spoon around and pointed it at Wolfgang. "Our 'skinny chef' is not so skinny anymore. I daresay he's quite well-recovered from his ordeal, yes?"

Winona eyed him up and said, "Hey, you know, I hadn't really noticed, but you are lookin' pretty spiff, Warly. How ya been feelin'?"

 _"Parfait,"_ Warly replied with a satisfied nod. "In excellent health, thanks to my most generous and caring friends."

At this, Wilson got a sprightly sort of glint in his eye and said, "It seems that, as of late, we've all been of excellent health and vitality. Our work has been proceeding faster than I ever could have hoped, and our quality of life has never been better. All thanks to our mutual trust, care, and willingness to work together towards a shared goal. All thanks, in short, to friendship."

His voice had taken on the quality of a speech, and everyone was looking at him with clear attention. He picked up his water cup and raised it in front of him. "I propose a toast; to all the good times we've shared, and all the good times that are to come. To friends."

Everyone reached for their cups. Webber said, "Oh! I like toast! Toast with honey is best."

Allena snorted with laughter and Wes grinned in amusement as Winona leaned over and whispered the meaning of the word 'toast' in Webber's ear. "Ooooh, a different toast! Yes, this kind is good too! To friends!"

He raised his cup into the air with enough excitement to splash his water all over Wolfgang, who was on his other side. Wolfgang shook it off, sighed, and lifted his glass. "To friends. Even the creepy ones."

Winona raised her cup and said, "To friends! Who woulda thunk I'd have found so many in this God-forsaken wasteland?"

"Friends," Warly rumbled. "For the best meals are shared with the people you love."

Wes raised his cup, set it down, then pointed to himself, made a heart shape with his hands, then pointed around the circle.

"To friends," Allena said. "When I came here I thought I'd lost everything. But I've found far more here than I ever lost. For everything that's happened to me since I found that old Voxola radio, I wouldn't change a single second of it."

Wilson was smiling radiantly at her. "To friends," he concluded.

They all replied in unison. "To friends!"

Then Allena _tsk'd._ "It's too bad Wortox couldn't be here. Where do you guys think he is?"

"Hmm. Have not seen scary imp since hound mound."

"Yeah," Winona said, brow creasing. "It's too bad he doesn't drop by more often. I like the guy, cursed hands and all. Maybe he's out stocking up on souls so he can drop by for an extended visit?"

"Who is new friend?" Webber asked curiously. "Have not met him."

That's right; Webber hadn't met Wortox yet. Neither of them were normal residents, and they'd never visited at the same time. "He's the one who brought me back from Krampus's cave, Web. I'll introduce you at the first opportunity. You'll like him – he loves to rhyme and play games."

Webber squealed excitedly. "Oh! Sounds like the funnest of friends!"

"Most fun, Webber," Allena corrected.

"Most fun. Most fun of friends!"

Wilson, who had been sipping at his soup, hummed thoughtfully. "You know, in the old lore it always seemed like you could summon such creatures as imps and fairies by saying thrice their name."

"Oh," Allena said. "Like saying Blood Mary in the mirror three times to make her appear."

"Come again?"

Too modern. "Uh, never mind. Go on?"

Wilson set down his bowl and said, "Well, we haven't seen Wortox in a while, yes? Perhaps we could try calling to him."

Wolfgang seemed interested. "Ah, yes! Sounds like much fun. Summon spooky imp. And best part? We do it during day, so is not very spooky!"

Winona snorted. "You're a big chicken, you know that, Wolf? Ah, what the heck. Sounds like fun. Alright, let's do it. Wortox, Wortox, Wortox!"

Wolfgang joined in next, with Webber right after. "Wortox, Wortox, Wortox!"

Fairly soon everyone was chanting it, pounding their fists on their knees in time, like a group providing the beat of a song. "Wortox, Wortox, Wortox! Wortox, Wortox, Wortox! Wortox, Wortox, WORTOX!"

Allena for one thought it was good fun, even if she wasn't really expecting anything to come out of it. But then, who knew? This world had ghosts and demons. Why shouldn't they be able to summon an imp by chanting his name?

She faltered in her chant. She was the first one to notice that Webber had stopped. The smile had slid from his face, and his expression had become slack and open-mouthed.

"Uh, Webber?" She asked carefully. "You okay?"

Everyone petered off to look at him, and he lifted a hand and pointed behind Allena. "Is that Wortox? He does not look very happy."

Everyone turned to look. Sure enough, standing several feet behind Allena was the telltale red, horned imp. His white eyes were wide and blank. He seemed a bit skinny. And his wrists and ankles looked to have had half the fur worn off of them, like a dog whose collar had been on far too tight for far too long.

Allena stood up and went over to him. There was obviously something wrong with him. "Wortox? Wortox, are you alright?"

She was worried. Had they actually summoned him? Had it hurt him somehow?

He looked at her and said in a small, shattered voice, "I'm sorry."

Allena's worry deepened to alarm, but she swallowed it and reached out to touch him. He took a step back. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to."

Wilson had come over by then, too, and he said in a surprisingly soothing voice, "It's alright. Accidents happen. What did you do?"

"Yeah, what is it, bud?" Winona said as she, too, walked over. "Maybe we can fix it, hey?"

But Wortox shook his head. "Cannot fix this. It is far too broken. And soon, everything else will be broken, too."

Wilson's gaze sharpened, and he glanced at Allena. "What, Wortox? What do you mean? Please, just tell us what happened."

His fur started bristling. He looked to each of them in turn. Then he said, "Forgive me. Forgive me, please. I've doomed you all."

And as he said this, a flash of black lightning split the sky above the Vargwood.


	46. What the Fire Consumes

Everyone scattered, running for the weapons cabinets and shouting out orders.

"Wolfgang, get your new leathers on and grab your bat! Wes, stick with me, alright?"

Wes nodded, grabbed a couple weapons, and went straight to Winona's side as she fetched out her own paltry beefalo-leather armor. She'd at least whipped up a couple of arm guards and a heavy-duty gold and leather helmet, so she was better off than the last attack, but she'd still be fragile.

"Wes! Am making you something with last batch of wood. Put it on, ya?"

Wes turned to look at Wolfgang, who was holding out a very basic set of armor. It wasn't as great as Allena's and Wilson's armor, but it was a lot better than nothing. Wes nodded gratefully and ran to put it on.

"I will prepare a bag of supplies!" Warly called as he ran to the medical cabinet. "Are there extra leathers I can use for armor? Anything?"

"Yeah, in that cabinet over there! Hey, Wilson, how'd that dart-making go? Wilson?"

But Wilson was still staring intently at Wortox, who was now staring at the ground and swaying on the spot. Wilson, voice still calm and void of anger, said, "Wortox, we need your help. Can you help us face whatever is coming?"

Wortox looked up at him, looked to Allena, and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Allena reached out and took his shoulder. "Hey, listen – it's alright. We don't blame you for what happened, but we might need your help to deal with it. Can you help us?"

Wortox shook his head. "You do not even know what I did. I…" He swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry. I'm so hungry, so thirsty. This curse is the worst-ey."

Allena glanced at Wilson, fearing a flare of temper at the imp's unhelpfulness, but he just sighed and turned away. "I'll get my armor. You'll need to suit up as well, my love."

Gone were the days when he would ask her to hide in the base and let them handle it. Maybe he trusted her to take care of herself. Maybe he knew that leaving her alone was just as risky as bringing her along. Whatever the case, she would need to get ready.

But first, she needed to deal with Wortox.

He was looking down at his feet again, so Allena put a hand under his chin and lifted it up so he was looking at her. "Wortox, if you can't fight, that's fine. But is there anything you can tell us about what's coming? So we can prepare for it?"

Wortox's ear twitched. "He said it will breathe fire."

She nodded, led him over to the endothermic firepit, and sat him down in her personal chair. She fetched him a bowl of soup and said, "I know it might not be a soul, but it's supposed to be _good_ for the soul, so go ahead and try to eat some soup, okay? We'll take care of everything."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's okay."

"I'm so sorry."

She kissed him on the head between the horns and said, "It's alright. Just stay here." Then she turned and said, "Wilson! He said whatever is coming will probably breathe fire. Anything for that?"

"Fire darts likely won't work. Just as well – those are still being made!"

"Will sleep darts work?"

"Maybe! Now, get dressed, my love! Armor!"

She suited up at once. As an afterthought she tossed a bunch of nitre on the endothermic fire, threw in all their thermal stones, and called, "Wolfgang! Whatever is coming will breathe fire. Think you can move our water barrels out front for easy access?"

"Easily!"

"Thanks!"

They all looked up as the first roar rent the air. It was a high, resonating roar, with a quality that seemed strangely insectoid. The first thing that popped into her head was someone playing a tuba partially plugged with a live wasp's nest into a microphone with feedback issues.

Not pleasant.

Everyone paused to listen, then resumed preparing for battle.

For once, they had plenty of time to prepare. Everyone armored themselves as best they could, throwing on every piece of spare clothing that could be used for protection and soaking themselves in the water barrels for fire protection. They each armed themselves with at least two weapons apiece. Wolfgang had his club and a heavy-duty spear. Warly, his obsidian spear and a blowgun with some poison darts. Winona had a spear, but her main weapon was another petrified tentacle tip, this one with the spines coated in gold. She'd made it in her free time. Webber had a spear and an axe. Wes also sported a spear and an axe. Allena and Wilson had blowguns and the remaining poison and sleep darts. Allena had a spear and her boomerangs. Wilson had two spears and two golden axes.

They were loaded for bear. Or...for whatever was about to show up.

"Wes, Winona, man the catapult. Begin firing as soon as you have a good shot," Wilson said.

"On it, brainiac," Winona replied. Wes stood at attention and saluted. Wolfgang nodded appreciatively at the gesture.

"Wolfgang," Wilson went on. "We may need you to hold its attention while Allena, Warly, and I whittle away at it from the rear and sides. Alternatively, if it's slow enough, Allena may be able to hold its attention."

"She is very good at attracting monsters," Wolfgang commented.

Wilson sighed. "Yes. Sadly, she is. Warly, you are fully recovered, yes?"

He nodded. "Oui. What is my role to be?"

Wilson looked at him appraisingly. "Remain on the sidelines with that spear of yours and your supplies. If someone is injured, pull them out and get them back on their feet. Otherwise, keep an eye out for weaknesses and call any out if you see them. Wait for opportune strikes. If you see a chance to do serious damage, take it."

"Yes, sir!"

"Webber, this is not your battle. Are you sure you wish to join us?"

Allena was worried that Webber didn't understand how serious this was. He looked chock full of excitement and pep, more like a kid getting ready to go to Disneyland than war. He nodded and said, "Yes! Webber will claw and bite and try to tangle up the creature with his webs!"

He patted their remaining web stores, which were all tangled together on his back.

Wilson nodded and turned to Allena. "Allena," he said, then paused. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to speak, and finally just said, "Stay near me. And be careful."

She nodded. "I will. Promise."

Wortox was still sitting beside the campfire. His ears were pressed flat to his skull, hit back was hunched, and he looked positively wretched.

The looks everyone gave him as they walked past ranged from pitying to expressionless. They still didn't know what he had to do with the monster that was on its way.

Personally, Allena didn't care. She trusted her friends – as Wolfgang had said, even the creepy ones. Whatever Wortox had done didn't matter.

She stopped next to him, hugged him from behind, and said, "Be back in a flash, Wortox. Don't worry. We'll take care of everything."

He whimpered, but did not reply. It wasn't until she was walking out that door that she saw him look up at her.

Guilt washed over his features. He looked down again. She left.

They all stood outside the base, waiting. They didn't have to wait long, though. The forest was already shaking with the approach of the beast.

Wolfgang sniffed. "Does anyone else smell something…burning?"

They all frowned, but it quickly became clear where it was coming from when plumes of smoke began to drift towards them out of the trees. Winona gasped. "Cripes! It set the forest on fire!"

It had. As they waited for it to appear, a black haze of smoke began issuing from the forest before them. Wilson sighed. "Well, there goes _that_ natural resource hub. At least we'll have plenty of charcoal."

A minute later, it emerged.

Everyone seemed to take a collective breath at the sight of the beast before them. It was roughly twenty feet tall with massive, shiny black compound eyes that were far too big for its head. A pair of lightly smoking nostrils was set in the small amount of space between them, and beneath them its snout narrowed down to something that was almost like a proboscis, though not as long as that of a mosquito or butterfly. Its body was covered in stunningly beautiful emerald scales, all just a slightly different color of green, all glinting in the hot sunlight.

Its legs were tiny and dangled almost uselessly from its hips, but its arms were massive, each tipped with slightly curved, pale orange claws as long as rapiers. Its upper arms were small and thin, but its forearms were huge and meaty and dangled down past even its feet. It had a long, thick tail, and orange, triangular spikes extended all the way down its spine. It had two short, orange horns. Finally, to top it all off, it had teeny, tiny little wings that were buzzing in a blur. They were not green and batlike, but clear and thin, unless Allena was mistake. Fly wings.

There was only one thing you could call a creature like that.

"Dragonfly," Wilson stated bluntly.

Wes nodded. Winona said, "Yup." Wolfgang make a noise of intense discomfort. Everyone could see the problem at once.

It was hovering, at least six feet off the ground at its lowest. How were they supposed to _hit it?_

Wilson gripped his spear and said, "Well, at least we have a catapult."

"Wish we had two more."

Allena silently agreed, but it couldn't be helped. She drew her boomerangs and began walking forward.

Wilson, Warly, Wolfgang and Webber followed. Wes and Winona stayed behind with the catapult.

The approach lacked any semblance of drama. The group of survivors just strolled casually across the clearing while the Dragonfly, looking quite calm and peaceful, hummed steadily towards them. It could clearly see them, but it showed no particular emotion at their approach.

They all stopped and waited. The Dragonfly kept floating forward—

Then the battle started as a giant stone flew out of the sky and fell directly on the Dragonfly's head.

It must have hit the skull right behind the eyes, and it scrunched its eyes closed with big, baggy green eyelids, ducking its head away from the pain. Then its lids retracted, and it glared at them.

It had barely even flinched.

It didn't roar. It just buzzed angrily and started towards them with an unmistakable scowl on its face.

Wolfgang let out a might war cry, ran forward, and was forced to leap back as the Dragonfly pulled one of its huge arms back and swiped it forward with unnatural speed.

That was bad. Normally big meant slow, but the Dragonfly didn't seem to follow that rule. This would be difficult.

Wolfgang stood up and turned to face the Dragonfly again, but was forced to dodge once more as it lunged for him. He ran back to them and said, "Wolfgang can barely reach claws! Cannot hit! What we do?"

Another boulder flew out of the sky and struck the Dragonfly, this time on its back. Allena had hoped that this might damage the wings, but the beast faltered for only a moment before rumbling deeply and pausing in midair. It raised both of its hands slowly in front of it, curled into fists…

"Run!" Allena yelled. When the Deerclops had struck the ground, ice had shot out of it. What would the Dragonfly conjure up?

They all sprinted away from it, but were knocked to the ground anyways as the Dragonfly's fists came crashing down, rattling the earth and sending shockwaves out all around them. Allena saw veins of fire rush through the grass, searing it where it went and setting flowers ablaze. One streaked under Webber's feet, and he rolled back with a yelp of pain. One only narrowly missed their flowhive, and another was only about ten feet away from the catapult.

The veins stopped to pool in half a dozen places across the plain within fifty feet of them. These spots began to glow, fire shot out of them in tiny, contained flares. Then, with a sick, gurgling hiss, the ground in these areas collapsed into glowing, fiery pools.

"Magma pools!" Warly shouted in alarm.

"Lava pools!" Allena yelled at nearly the same time.

"Lava!" Wilson concurred. "Lava is molten rock aboveground – magma is underground! This is lava!"

"WHO CARES ABOUT SILLY SCIENCE NAMES?" Wolfgang thundered. "WE HAVE HOT GLOWY ROCK SOUP AND DRAGON TO DEAL WITH!"

The Dragonfly hissed in response to this, and another rock flew out of the sky and struck it. The boulders seemed to be doing little, if any, damage, but they were irking the hell out of it. It buzzed towards Wolfgang, seemingly happy to blame the boulders on him.

Allena pulled out one of her boomerangs and hurtled it at the creature's eye just as it wound up to claw at Wolfgang again. A single blow from those claws would butcher him.

The boomerang hit the bulging black orb perfectly, but bounced rather than sliced. It maintained some of its path, and Allena was able to catch it on the flyback, but it did little damage. That said, it did its job. The Dragonfly scrunched its eyes closed again, swung blindly, and lost much of its speed and accuracy. Wolfgang dodged, then leapt forward and slashed at its other claw, and the Dragonfly hissed in mild irritation. Unless Allena was mistake, the blow barely scratched the scales.

The eyes blinked open, lids slanted with annoyance, and it tried to swipe at Wolfgang again. This time a green-feathered dart lodged in its eye, and at the same time another boulder struck. This one was only a glancing blow, nicking its shoulder, and like the hits before it seemed to do little damage.

The Dragonfly blinked the dart out of its eye, which looked totally unaffected. Two more darts shot forward, and both were blinked away in a moment again.

It did not roar in fury. It did not bring all of its might to bear. It just floated gently forward and tried to swipe at Wolfgang again.

"This isn't going to work!" Allena said. "What do we do?"

They'd all stood up except for Webber, who was still sitting on the ground whimpering. Wilson looked to be thinking hard, and he said, loudly, "The island again, I suppose! The tentacles will reach the beast!"

They'd all heard him over the buzz of the Dragonfly's wings, which was not much louder than a busy air conditioner, and everyone gave him a quick thumbs-up. Another rock flew towards the Fly, but the creature had moved to pursue Wolfgang and the boulder missed.

Wolfgang turned to run, ready to just sprint it over to the island, but the Dragonfly was too fast. Its casual glide was only its first speed, and as Wolfgang began running it hummed louder as its wings picked up the pace. It shot right after him, wound up for another blow, and Allena wildly chucked her boomerang. "Wolfgang! Watch out!"

He turned back to see the claw drawn back, and the Dragonfly hissed furiously as Allena's boomerang once again hit home. It blinked and missed its swipe.

Another boulder hit it, and as soon as it blinked open its eyes three more darts hit their mark. Eyes shut again.

It was getting pissed. Its buzzing ratcheted up even as it paused, and it shook its head and turned from the group.

No one even considered for a moment that it might be retreating as it started gliding away. All they could do was watch and see where it would go.

It went to the nearest lava pool, dipped its head towards it, and drank from the pool. At first Allena feared that it would start spitting lava at them, but almost at once the Dragonfly turned around, glared at them, and spat the lava ball back onto the ground. It had become gelatinous, and in it was what appeared to be a glowing black egg. The egg began hatching immediately in the heat of the lava, and a moment later…

"What the hell is that?" Wilson said in sheer exasperation.

The Dragonfly moved off towards the next lava pool, obviously intent on repeating this process, and they all stood and watched the little creature that was now oozing steadily towards them. It appeared to be a black grub that used the gelatinous lava as a protective cover. Its eyes glowed yellow, and it moved faster than it by all rights should have.

It beelined for Warly, who was closest to it. Warly pulled out his obsidian spear and lunged for it, slicing at the laval coating.

"They're like little lava…larvae. Lavae," Wilson remarked.

"Yup," Allena said. As the lavae's coating spilled onto the ground, Warly was able to start stabbing at the grub within. A spurt of the lava-goo flew out, catching Warly's leathers on fire, but he dealt the grub a killing blow and dropped to the ground to put it out.

Allena realized that Webber was still on the ground, and she went to help him up as the Dragonfly buzzed off to the next pool. "Webber, are you alright?"

He whimpered. "Big mean bug burned Webber's hands and feet! We cannot stand up without it hurting!"

Allena let out a small chuff of worry. Webber was out of the fight. "Warly, can you help Webber? Get some salve on his burns, and…"

The battlefield was changing rapidly. The Dragonfly had finished its spawning, and now lavae were hatching all around the field. Before they knew it they were facing six foes instead of one.

Two of them went for Winona and Wes, who were forced to abandon the catapult. They pulled out their spears and started slashing. Wilson dragged Webber to his feet, gave him an extra spear, and said, "Walk with this and head back to base! Avoid the lavae! Wes and Winona will help you!"

The Dragonfly was heading back towards them. Allena chucked another boomerang at it, but this time it saw the attack coming and closed one eye in anticipation of the blow. The boomerang bounced off and flew away halfheartedly to land in the tall grass of the savannah, and the Dragonfly shot her a brief glare before turning back to Wolfgang.

Webber made a miserable sound, but at a commanding glare from Wilson the spider-boy turned and began hobbling towards the base.

Wolfgang and Warly were wailing away at the lavae, and Wilson joined them. Allena ran around to divert the Dragonfly's attention. "Hey, Smaug! Look at me! I've got a black arrow for you!"

She pulled out her blowgun and spat a poison dart at its face. It sank right into the beast's left nostril. The Dragonfly blinked heavily, snorted a couple of times, then looked slightly dazed. Wait - had she shot a sedative by mistake?

No. It wasn't dazed.

It was sneezing.

It took a deep breath, reared back, and shot a massive plume of fire right out of its nose.

The fire blackened the ground before it and caused everyone to stumble back away from the intensity of the heat. The Dragonfly swayed in the air, puffing smoke for a moment, then shook itself and bashed the ground a couple more times with its fists. Not to conjure lava pools, but just out of frustration. Fire plumed out of the ground where it struck, forcing them to retreat further.

The lavae had been dispatched, but it was now more important than ever to get the Dragonfly to the island. Allena ran in front of the Dragonfly, whistling, and it promptly began to pursue her.

She'd hoped that her agility would be enough to let her pull ahead of the beast, but she was wrong. She felt it behind her, gearing up for a swipe, before she could make it fifteen feet.

She couldn't outrun it, and the range of the swipe would make it difficult for her to dodge left or right. Rather than throwing herself down or out of the way, she stopped and rapidly back-peddled.

Sure enough, the claw whooshed by right in front of her. She was under the beast now; if it took a swipe at her here, it could hardly miss.

The Dragonfly stopped abruptly. It looked at its claw, looked around in confusion, and let out a low, gurgling hiss. Her move had taken it by surprise, and it had lost track of her.

She backed further away until she was under its tail, and Wilson rushed around past them until he was twenty feet in front of them. He yelled, "Over here, you great brute!" And the Dragonfly, seeing a new target, started after him.

Okay. This was a viable strategy. Have one person lead it on, another person distract it, and a third person run forward to continue the relay. She nodded at Warly and lifted a blow gun, then pointed at him. He nodded, pulled out his own blow gun, and she ran around to pass the mayhem while Wilson got ready to dodge the incoming swipe.

Warly shot the Dragonfly's eye as it swung at Wilson. It missed, and Wilson ran behind the Dragonfly to confuse it. Allena sprinted well past it, another twenty feet towards the island, and as soon as the Fly started looking around, she caught its attention and it zoomed after her while Wolfgang ran around to draw its attention next.

They passed the dormant Treeguard, the new base, and finally made it to the bridge. As they did, Winona caught up with them. Wes was nowhere to be seen.

Allena had just ducked behind the Dragonfly to let Wilson get the next kite, and Winona ran up to her and asked, "What's the plan?"

"Tentacles. You alright?"

"I am. Wes was burned by the little lava things. He and Webber are treating their wounds back at base."

Allena nodded. Ahead of her, the Dragonfly flew over the bridge to the island.

This was going to be very, very difficult. To kite the Dragonfly through the marsh, they would need to be faster than it. They couldn't dodge the Fly and the tentacles at the same time. Hopefully she could get them focused on each other and draw their attention away from her.

She looked to see that Wilson had the beast's ire and was getting ready to dodge its next swipe. Allena ran around and started straight into the swamp.

The purple lumps popped up wherever she ran, but she left them behind fast. She saw the Dragonfly winding up for its next swipe and she lifted her blowgun. "Hey! Fugly! Come and get me!"

She let fly, causing it to blink and miss. Like clockwork, it turned towards her. But…

It flew over the tentacles. They didn't even notice it was there.

Well, crap. Looked like she would need to wake them up herself.

She started running around hopping on every purple lump she saw. In the time it took for the Dragonfly to bear down on her, she'd woken a dozen of the things.

Seven to eight feet tall, the tentacles reared up straight before beginning to flail. The Dragonfly's knuckles brushed them as it went, and they all started thrashing. They may only have been able to hit the creature's hands, feet, and tail, but it seemed that was plenty painful – they had drawn its attention. The Dragonfly roared in frustration and started whirling around to claw at the spiny purple fiends.

Allena's sense of victory was short-lived. For the first time in her life, she watched as the tentacles were laid low. She'd seen Wilson kill one – a single one – in her early days, and it had taken time, patience, and skill. The Dragonfly simply tore them out of the ground like troublesome weeds, slashed them in half like wheat before a scythe, and set them aflame like a kid with a Bic lighter.

The tentacles, evidently sensing the mass demise of their brethren, began popping up all across the plain in retaliation. Allena and all the others were forced to flee to the outskirts of the marsh, congregating on the edge of the island, as the violet growths spread outwards in a ripple.

The Dragonfly snarled and hissed, swiped and clawed, and tried to fly higher, but it couldn't fly high enough to avoid its new foes. It seemed it was stuck at six feet. And the tentacles, their full animosity unleashed upon the Dragonfly…

…barely managed to skin its knees and knuckles.

They all watched in despair as the Dragonfly, finally fed up with the minor irritation that the field of tentacles was presenting it with, reared back and took a deep breath. The scales around its head and shoulders seemed to darken, a fierce orange glow seeped out between them, and a hint of red light shone in its eyes. Allena thought she knew what was coming, and sure enough the beast let loose with a massive gout of flame.

It swept across the plain in a twenty-foot jet, cauterizing the swamp and desiccating the tentacles. The beast spun in a slow circle as it blew, roasting everything around it. By the time it was done, everything within a forty-foot diameter of the beast was charred earth.

It looked around, satisfied, until it saw their group on the edge of the island. It glared at them for a moment, catching its breath, then it began slowly buzzing towards them again.

Its rage had been quelled a bit by its discharge of power, and now it regarded them with nothing more than its initial mild irritation.

When Wilson spoke, his voice was raw. "How many more darts do we have?"

Three voices answered at once.

"Five poison."

"Three sedatives."

"Six poison."

They all looked at each other. The tentacles had been their fallback. Everything had moved so quickly they hadn't even considered what they would do if the plan failed. And failed it had. Even as they watched, the remaining tentacles on the plain were shrinking, terrified, back into the earth. They wanted nothing to do with the fiery giant.

Now, what did they have? A few darts that wouldn't pierce its hide or eyes. Weapons that would never reach past its claws. A single boomerang.

In other words, next to nothing.

They waited as the Dragonfly approached them, and Allena felt Wilson grab her hand and squeeze.

She squeezed back. Voice cracked from the heat, she said, "It's okay. I'm okay. Whatever happens, it's fine. I don't—"

"No, love. Look. The bridge."

She looked to the bridge and gasped.

A massive figure had just crested the ridge and was stomping over the stone span between the islands. She was amazed that it didn't crumble beneath its weight, but the creature made it across. It was lumbering in their direction, and as it started across the plain it let out a deep, rattling roar and the Dragonfly – which was, by then, mere feet away from them all – turned to face it.

It was the Treeguard. The last one, which had been residing in the middle of the plain. On top of it, head poking out of its uppermost branches, was Wortox.

Allena grinned and let out a wild _Whoop!_ The thrill of excitement shot through the group, galvanizing them all.

The Dragonfly watched the approaching enemy with angrily slanted brows, but made no move to approach it. Perhaps it was guarding what it perceived as its prey. As the Treeguard drew within combat range, the Fly let out a deep, wet, gurgling sound, and Allena's heart skipped a beat. It was about to spit more fire or lava.

Lava. A huge gob of it hurtled out of the Dragonfly's proboscis almost disdainfully, but the Treeguard batted it away with one huge limb. The glob flew twenty feet and fell to the ground with a hiss.

As for the Treeguard, only a few needles on its arm were smoldering. Going by the wet shine of the rest of it, it must have dumped the contents of all of their water barrels on itself before coming out to do battle.

The Dragonfly looked shocked that its attack had been ineffective. Perhaps Maxwell had created it with a general contempt for anything green. Whatever the case, it snarled as the Treeguard approached, and drew back a claw to swipe at it.

Pine needles flew as the claws crashed through the arboreal giant, which groaned in pain. It retaliated quickly, though, swiping at the creature's eye.

The Dragonfly roared in sheer, unadulterated agony as the hard, wooden claws cracked through some sort of protective covering on the eye. It began to ooze and leak, and the Dragonfly actually reared back with a shriek of fear.

Allena watched this in fascination. Its eyes were its weak spots – they'd just been too heavily fortified for their little weapons to pierce.

At this point Allena saw something else - though Webber was still nowhere to be seen, Wes had decided to rejoin them, and had followed the Treeguard at a safe distance before looping around to meet up with the group on the edge of the island. He was watching the battle raptly, and barely spared them a glance. To be fair, Allena was pretty well distracted by the fight, too.

As it turned out, the blow to the Dragonfly's eye had only been a distraction. As soon as the Dragonfly closed its eyes and shied away, the Treeguard leaned forward and Wortox leapt from its brow, right onto the head of the fiery beast. On his back was something stringy and white.

It must have been Webber's remaining webbing. Wortox shouted something to the Treeguard in his old, garbled tongue, then called down to all the rest of them, "Move! Get away from the edge! Treeguard coming through!"

The Treeguard, sure enough, shoved at the Dragonfly with all its might. The Dragonfly shrieked again and twisted its injured eye away from the hands. The Treeguard shoved the Dragonfly out over the open ocean. They all dodged out of the way before they were crushed.

The Dragonfly dropped a couple of feet and, realizing that it was no longer over land, began to push back. It spat a gout of flame, and the Treeguard groaned in fear and pain, pulling back slightly. The Dragonfly roared triumphantly and pushed forward—

And then it stuttered in the air. It's eyes shot open, ruined one included. It shrieked in terror, arms flailing, as it plummeted towards the sea.

Its claws tried to grasp at the edge of the land, but it couldn't get a grip. As it fell, Allena saw a blur of white on its back and a flash of red as Wortox leapt from it.

He turned to watch as the Dragonfly hit the water. There was a light hissing as it steamed with the creature's heat, and pretty soon they were all standing in an open-air sauna.

Allena ran up to Wortox and gasped, "What happened?"

He turned to them looking tired but pleased, and said, "The Treeguard remembered the help that you rendered. I asked it to aid me, at once it consented. It doused itself well with the barrels I presented. I took Webber's webbing and climbed on the its back, and I shared with it quickly my plan of attack! To tangle the Dragonfly's wings with webs sticky; so tell me, my friends…"

He smiled at them hopefully. "Am I not rather tricky?"

They all stared at him in amazement for a moment, then Wolfgang and Winona both burst out laughing. Wilson said, "Honestly, that story should have had sugarplums and reindeer, going by the metre."

Allena was fairly overwhelmed. She flung her arms around Wortox's neck and kissed him on the cheek. He tensed, claws twitching, and she let go and took a step back. He relaxed.

"Thanks, Wortox. You really saved our skins."

This time his smile was just a bit contrite. "I am happy to help. After all, it is my fault you had to deal with that beast in the first place. You see, I…"

He trailed off, ears turning to the right, and everyone became aware of something.

The steam, rather than dissipating, was thickening.

Allena walked slowly to the ridge. The water seethed and bubbled just six feet below, and in it something glowed with bright and terrible fervor.

Her eyes widened, and her hands came up to protect her face as the light surged upwards. She stumbled back and Wilson yelled, "Allena!"

She felt him grab her and help her away from the edge as the Dragonfly reemerged with a high-pitched, nightmarish roar that sounded in a symphony of steam. It had thrust itself out of the water with all its might, and was now clawing at the edge of the island. It was radiating heat like a bellows, and they were all forced to retreat.

Its scales had turned black, and the orange glow of its inner fire seeped out between each one. Its claws were red-hot, like swords just pulled from the forge, but its eyes were the true furnace. They were orbs of solid flame.

Well, one of them was. The other was bubbling and seething like an egg in a frying pan with the heat up far too high.

The Dragonfly clawed at the ground, trying to hoist itself up, and Wortox shouted something to the Treeguard. The Treeguard took a step forward, but the Dragonfly was having none of it.

It glowed orange, and everyone was thrown back as fire flooded out of its claws straight into the ground. The sheer heat cracked the earth and sent the Treeguard reeling.

Allena sat up. Wilson was just beside her, holding her shoulder, bracing himself with his spear. Around her, all of her friends were on the ground, covering their faces, peering at the Dragonfly through narrowed eyes. Her own were narrowed, as well. The heat coming off of the thing was blinding, and she was reminded of the time she nearly fell into a firepit while camping with her parents as a very young child. She'd been shocked that the fire, formerly quite cozy and pleasant, would burn when approached.

Now, as then, she whined low in her throat and put her arms up to shield herself from the blistering heat. The Dragonfly was roaring in fury, but it seemed to Allena that it also sounded desperate.

It lunged up a few more feet, and she saw that the scales midway down its back did not have the glow of fire seeping from them – they were black as pitch. Black as cooled magma.

It was expending all of its energy to get out of the ocean because the intense cold was killing it. If they could get it back into the ocean, it would die.

But they couldn't. They couldn't even get close. Wortox was screaming shrilly at the Treeguard, but even it was stumbling away from the searing heat of the Dragonfly's fury. The beast was fifteen feet away, and Allena knew that they were already all suffering first-degree burns.

Wilson was staring at the Dragonfly in horror, and as he looked over to her she saw the fear in his eyes. It was gaining. And if it made it to land, nothing would get it back in the water again.

They would all die in fire.

She looked to Wortox, who was gesturing wildly, but it was clear he could no longer command the Treeguard. Wes was lying on the ground in a crouch, Winona trying to help him up. Wolfgang was flat on his back, wheezing from the heat. Warly was getting to his feet, but his face was set and grim.

There was…nothing else for it.

Allena sat up. She reached over and wrapped Wilson in a tight hug, which he returned. He croaked, "I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry I could not keep you safe."

She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "It's alright. Just remember – I don't regret anything. And I never will."

He looked at her, and she saw some of the pain in his eyes diminish. He nodded.

Without warning she pushed him away and wrenched his spear from his hand.

Then she ran towards the Dragonfly.

She heard Wilson shout something behind her, but she wasn't listening. She couldn't afford to listen. Every ounce of focus she had was being funneled into simple forward movement.

The heat was agonizing. It tore at her skin, reddening it in moments as she ran. She turned off the pain. The air, starved of oxygen before the gluttonous fire, left her dizzy. She focused only on the Dragonfly, and leaned forward into the run.

The Dragonfly's remaining eye locked with hers, and it burned with a solemn promise – _touch me, and you die._ Fear shot through her. She shut that down, too…

…and plunged the spear into the Dragonfly's damaged eye.

Its head jerked back in visceral reaction, and it shrieked. One of its claws dug into the earth as the other came back to swat instinctively at the enemy next to its face. The cracked earth splintered beneath its claw, and gave way, falling into the sea. The Dragonfly overbalanced backwards, screaming as it fell, and it flung its limb forward in a final, desperate attack.

The next thing she knew, she was flying away from the horrible, searing heat, and as she did time slowed down. Her gaze trailed slowly over to her friends, to see that half of them were still covering their faces. They hadn't even seen what had happened.

Wilson had.

She hit the ground, sliding backwards over the glassy swamp soil, and she felt her body give out. She had no control over herself, over her muscles, and her stomach was hurting, and…

She skidded to a stop and looked down.

All she saw was red.

Her head fell back, and her eyes rolled up towards the sky. All she saw was blue.

Tired. She was tired. She closed her eyes…

And all she saw was black.


	47. The Devil's Due

Wilson stared at the limp form that had just been hurled across the plain in a flash of red.

The Dragonfly had just fallen back into the water with a wail of pain and a hiss of steam. It was billowing up from the ocean in a geyser, making everything foggy.

It was foggy. Perhaps – perhaps he'd seen wrongly. Perhaps she was…

He staggered over to her, and fell limply to his knees some feet away as he caught sight of her.

He hadn't seen wrongly. The Dragonfly, desperate to fling the gnat that had just stung its eye as far away as possible, had lashed out with its claws. It had struck perfectly.

Allena lay sprawled out on the ground, and her stomach was nothing more than a mass of bright crimson. The claws had opened her up to the spine, and he could see intestines – some cut cleanly in half – within the mess. There was no movement. No pulse of blood, no sign of breath.

She was gone.

Something inside him snapped. He wanted to go to her, to take her hand, to hold her, but the mere sight of what had become of her caused his entire being to reel with shock. He turned away with a hoarse cry, grasping at his face and wishing he could claw the sight out of his eyes.

Someone – he didn't see who – came over to him.

He heard a gasp. Winona.

"Oh. Oh, no. Oh, God. Kid."

Wilson's eyes opened. He saw Wes approach, and when he came in sight of Allena it was like he'd hit a rubber wall. He bounced back, as incapable of approaching her as Wilson had been.

Winona turned and stumbled back to the others with Wes. He could hear her voice, could hear the pain as she explained what had happened – she, too, had seen – but it was all meaningless to him.

_I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry I could not keep you safe._

_It's alright. Just remember—_

His throat constricted.

_I don't regret anything—_

He heaved a deep breath.

_And I never will._

* * *

Five heads whipped around towards the sound of the howl that came from the gentleman scientist.

Wortox clapped his ears against his skull and moaned at the sound. It was pain. The sound was raw, undiluted pain, and he thought he might die if he had to listen to it for much longer.

Wes and Winona stepped back, taking hold of each other's hands, looking to each other for support. For consolation. There was none to be had.

Wolfgang gazed at the man dully. He'd heard many beasts howl in the days of his youth, but none with such bestial soul. It was a sound to behold, even if it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Warly watched with tears in his eyes as a man's beating heart was torn from his chest. All the joy that love could bring, inverted in a heartbeat. It was more than he could bear – but he had to bear even more, for his own grief welled in him atop Wilson's own.

Everyone's did.

* * *

The girl, gone. The girl who had pulled him from the sea, had carried him to safety and cared for him as though his life were as precious to her as her own. And what had he done to deserve such kindness? Nothing. Oh, Allena – why? Why did you have to go?

He knew why, of course. He had seen what had happened. And he knew – now, in the wake of that howl of grief, more than ever – that the only thing more painful than dying was to endure the death of those you loved.

And for her, how much love! The fires of hell? The maw of the Beast? What were these pains compared to all that she'd stood to lose?

Nothing. So she had saved their lives at the cost of her own.

Wilson's howl had ended, and he now sat with his knees splayed out and his hands pressed to the ground, sobbing.

Warly wanted to weep as well, but he could not. Not now, when he needed to remain calm and provide care to those who were injured. So he took his backpack off and set to work.

* * *

Winona stood beside Wes as he clung to her, swaying gently in the hurricane that they'd all ended up in the middle of. Warly came over to her and said, "Your hands are burnt. They need salve. Here, let me—"

She jerked her hand away as he tried to take it. "I'm fine," she snapped.

Warly replied, voice calm, "I am sorry, but it is better to provide care to burns quickly. It will save a lot of pain down the road."

She was too frayed just then to care about the pain. She couldn't even feel it. She turned to him furiously, hand curling into a fist. "I said I'm…!"

Then she saw his eyes. They were filled with every bit as much hurt as she was feeling right then. But he was working through the pain.

She deflated. "Yeah, okay. Sorry."

He nodded, took her hand, and dressed it with the salve. He went over both her and Wes as they stood there, looking not quite directly at the ragged bundle of meat that had been their friend five minutes ago.

It was tough to look at that unmoving thing and remember how wild she'd been when they'd first met. Standing there bouncing up and down, so damn excited to have another 'girl,' she'd been the epitome of welcoming. And her, Winona, rolling her eyes and trying not to remember how much she was reminded of her sister.

Every time Charlie had come to stay, it had been the same old routine. The bouncing. The hugging. The smile like she was the happiest person in the entire world – why? Because big sister Winona was there.

Allena and Charlie. Charlie and Allena.

Now both of 'em were gone.

Her throat closed up and her eyes stung, just a bit. But she didn't cry.

She wasn't a cryin' sort of gal.

* * *

Wes looked on, tears running down his face. He'd known that something was wrong, that Allena was in danger, but he hadn't told anyone. Was this his fault? Would it have done any good to tell them? He didn't think so, yet guilt still clawed at him.

Allena was dead.

He hadn't been able to approach upon seeing that splash of crimson on the ground. Hadn't been able to so much as look at her properly. Winona had told him what had happened, as much as she'd seen, and that was as much as he could handle. That…and Wilson.

Wilson sat sobbing on the ground, and Wes envied him his ability to vocalize his grief. To let it out, to share it with others in a way they would understand. It was so lonely, sometimes, not being able to connect to people like that. Though, in this case, maybe it was just as well.

Wilson's cry had nearly knocked Wes to his knees. He'd seen the effect it had had on Wortox, and even Winona had flinched away from it. His friends could only endure so much of others' grief while they had their own to deal with.

He wiped his eyes. Warly wanted to treat his burns, but he had none. Even his face was just fine, protected by his now-cracked face paint.

He pointed instead to Wolfgang. Wolfgang would need help. Even Wortox might need help.

Wilson needed help, too, probably more than anyone else. But there was nothing anyone could do for him. Not now.

Wes wept. But he wept in silence.

* * *

Wolfgang let skinny chef, Warly, treat his burns. Wolfgang did not care for heat. Cold was much preferable.

He felt cold inside just then. So cold, even his tears froze. He wished that cold would come out, chill everything, put out the fires and turn the steam to snow, but it stayed inside.

Wolfgang could see Allena from here. Torn open like fish, like rabbit. But she was not rabbit.

Wolfgang had caught only glimpse of her rushing fierce beast, the Dragonfly, before the heat had blinded him. Winona had told him the rest – how she had pierced the fiend's great eye, how it had lashed out to strike her down, sent her flying away, like she was weakling. But she was not weak, and now – the Dragonfly? Ha. Dead bug.

Wilson, the man with the big brain, had also a big heart, and now it was broken into little pieces. He was lying on the ground, crying like wounded dog. But he was not dog. Oh, no. Many had tried to tell Wolfgang that to weep was not manly, was not mighty. But those men who did not weep had, perhaps, never lost anything worth weeping over. Wilson had.

Wolfgang had as well, but he would save his weeping for later. Would weep for Allena, torn apart like little rabbit before the hounds. But she was not rabbit. Oh, no. She was mighty woman. Mightier, maybe—

No, definitely. Mightier, definitely, than Wolfgang.

* * *

Wortox had stumbled behind his Treeguard friend to clutch at his chest, his ears, his stomach. Everything hurt. _Everything._

He could feel them all out there, grieving. He could hear Wilson, dying inside while his body went on tick-tick-ticking. Normally such emotion, such sweet, soulful emotion, would set him mad with hunger, especially since it had been so very long since he'd eaten. But all he felt now was sick.

He'd tried to help. He'd wanted to. But his own foolishness had lent Maxwell the material he'd needed to fuel the monstrosity whose power now turned the sea to steam. He'd wanted to help Allena, whose stories and rhymes had so entranced him; who had seen the kindness in him, even when he'd been acting so very loveless.

He'd tried to do the right thing, and now she was dead. Just like Krampus was dead. Why? Why did he do wrong every time he tried to do right? Why—

He froze. Every hair on his body went on end as a cold, dark power washed over the clearing – and that was a lot of hairs. A lot of power.

It was coming. He was coming. Coming, perhaps, to collect on his bargain.

Maxwell.

* * *

Everyone looked up as a thrill of power raced through the clearing like an electric current. Before they could even question what was about to happen, a bolt of black lightning rent the air before them.

It struck Allena.

The force of it flung Wilson back ten feet. Winona rushed over to make sure he was alright, and they all squinted through the swirl of steam and smoke.

A figure was standing where Allena had fallen…but it wasn't her. It was too tall, and the proportions were wrong. It knelt down and reached out an arm as a light wind began to push the steam away, and momentarily they could all see it clearly.

It was Maxwell. He was examining Allena's body. He looked up, no doubt sensing the wave of hostility that his arrival had generated. Though in this particular case, hostility was the wrong word. No. What washed over him just then was…hatred.

Wilson forced himself to sit up, gasping, "Get…away from…her."

Maxwell regarded him coldly for a moment, then smiled. "I'm afraid I cannot do that. She told you of our bargain?"

Winona took a menacing step forward and snapped, "What bargain? What are you talkin' about?"

Maxwell did not look at her. He peered closely at Wilson but, seeing nothing but confusion, anger and disbelief on the man's face, raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Wait…you mean to tell me she never _told_ you?"

Wilson's mouth twisted into a snarl as he forced himself unsteadily to his feet. Winona lent him a spear to help him keep his balance as Maxwell threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, how droll! But surely Wes knew? You overheard our conversation, yes? Did you not tell the others of the girl's debt, of the danger she was in?"

Beneath his face paint, Wes paled. Winona glanced back at him, but she was the only one. The others were all too focused on Maxwell.

The demon laughed again. "Very well. As you do not know, I suppose I will tell you. Wilson, you recall that cold winter day that you failed, utterly, to protect dear Allena from the hound pack?" His voice was laced with contempt. "You patched her up as well as you could, but too little, too late. You felt her life slipping away. Were you aware that she died that day?"

Wilson spat, "She did not! I was able to—"

Maxwell ran him over with a sudden snarl. "You were able to do _nothing!_ It was I who saved her. I, who bound her soul to her body and gave it the time it needed to heal. You see, we made a little deal, her and I, while she slept…oh! Perhaps you know some of this story?"

A hint of recognition had shown in Wilson's eyes as he recalled Allena telling him that Maxwell had invaded her mind whilst she'd laid there, wounded. It seemed he was about to hear precisely what the demon had said to her.

Maxwell, calmed after his outburst, went on. "I visited her where she stood on the brink of oblivion, and I made her a deal. She was loath to abandon you, you see. She could not bear the thought of leaving you behind, not after the bond you had formed. So I was able to tempt her."

He glanced down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "I told her I would grant her life again – save her, send her back to her _dearest_ Wilson – and in exchange…she would forfeit her next life to me."

He noted some confusion at this, and he sighed. "You silly little fools believe that death is the worst this world has to offer you. But I know better. Death is a mercy." He _tsk'd._ "One that she so shortsightedly traded away."

For a moment, as he looked down at the pale form beneath him, disgust flickered in his gaze. Then it was gone. "In exchange for her life back, she offered herself to me as a servant; her contract to begin the next time she died." He took a deep, satisfied breath. "And now that time has come."

He slid one hand beneath her back, the other under her slightly bent knees, and he lifted her up. Her head lolled back, dark locks cascading limply to the ground, and Maxwell cradled her closely. They could all see at once that the demon's power had done more than just transport himself there.

Allena's body was healed.

Wilson was shaking. He was leaning heavily on the spear, but to Winona's alarm she saw him push off and try to stand by himself. He stayed upright, but just barely.  
He hoisted the spear in front of him and said, "Put. Her. Down."

Maxwell watched as the gentleman scientist lurched slowly towards him. The others tried to follow, but Maxwell held up his hand, snapped his fingers, and they all found themselves briefly paralyzed.

All of them except for Wilson, that is. The man was reeling from the news. Allena had offered herself to the demon in exchange more time with him? No. He would not permit it.

He came face to face with Maxwell and lifted his spear. "Put her down. _Now!"_

Maxwell stared at him, unimpressed, and said, "Look at her, Higgsbury. Enjoy the sight."

Wilson's eyes flickered down to her. Gone was the gaping wound, the lines of pain on her face. She looked peaceful. Serene.

He looked back up at Maxwell to see that his eyes had turned solid white. "It is the last one you will ever have of her."

His face split into an inhuman grin, all sharp, white teeth, and Wilson lunged forward with a cry—

_CRACK!_

Lightning once again split the sky. Winona, Wolfgang, and Wortox all cried out as the blinding flash of light and deafening clap of thunder enveloped the trio. When the light was gone and their eyes had readjusted, they looked to see Wilson, on his knees, alone.

Maxwell and Allena were gone.

* * *

For Allena, there was nothing but darkness. A bit of turbulence, a touch of some tantalizing light, then darkness.

That was fine. She was exhausted. She didn't know if she was dreaming or in some mental trap, but the darkness she was in was warm and welcoming.

She was lying down somewhere, and that was good. She couldn't possibly sit up. She was too tired. What was that old joke? About the bicycle that couldn't stand up on its own? Why not? Why, because it was _two-tired!_

She chuckled to herself in the darkness. She would have to tell that to Wilson the next time she…

Wilson. She frowned. Where was Wilson? And why did the thought of him fill her with dread instead of comfort?

_Go back to your life. You will have one more chance…_

One more chance. One more chance with Wilson. She'd struck a bargain with Maxwell to return to him and…

_The next time you die, you will stay with me…_

That was fine. She just wouldn't die. So long as she didn't die—

_I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry I could not keep you safe._

_Well? Does that sound like a deal?_

Images bubbled up in the back of her mind. Vague impressions of fire and pain. Fire? From what?

_Dragonfly!_

The Dragonfly. The Dragonfly had attacked. They'd all gone out to fight it, but the catapults hadn't helped and the tentacles had all been burned to a crisp. But the Treeguard had managed to damage one of its eyes and…

Fire. Pain.

The rest came flooding back to her.

She lay there in darkness, waiting for the Shadow. For Maxwell's voice to speak to start echoing in her mind. Nothing happened, however, and it seemed to her that she was alone.

Was it possible that she was alive? She tried to reach out, to see if she could sense herself. She looked for pain, for damage, but she found nothing of the sort. All she felt was comfort. After what she'd been through, surely the only thing that could bring comfort would be death? Either that or a metric ton of butterfly wings.

Death seemed to be more likely. Had Maxwell just left her alone?

She would have to wait and see. Her thoughts were becoming sharper as she waited, the overpowering sense of fatigue lessening. Soon it came to her that she definitely was unconscious, but only just.

She didn't struggle her way awake. She let it happen slowly. She became more aware of the pressure of her lids on her eyes, and she squeezed them tightly, not quite ready to open them. She waited for sensation to travel down her body. Neck, shoulders, arms, hands, stomach—

Her gut clenched as her mind projected a flash of red on the inside of her eyelids—

Hips, legs, feet, toes. All fine.

She opened her eyes.

Above her, polished darkwood ceilings were faintly illuminated by the flickering of a bright fire. The crown molding was stunningly intricate, all carved clouds and birds and serpents. The walls were simple and smooth, paperless and strewn with paintings. Only two she recognized – Leda and the Swan, a copy of the lost painting by Michelangelo, and Pandemonium, whose painter she did not know. Others depicted a variety of scenes, many from Greek mythology, others classical American-style paintings. Hunting parties and eagles and such. Her eyes traveled around the room to take them all in. The one that drew her eye last, a massive portrait hung just above the fireplace, was a stunning oil painting done all in blacks and greys with only a splash of crimson in a carnation, and a yellow glow of fire from a cigar.

Maxwell.

She could feel a weight beside her on the bed. Her eyes had been fixed on the walls, the furniture, the posh red carpets. On the gold and crimson curtains that framed windows opening out onto darkness. Even on the tapestry blanket on which she was sprawled, soft cotton threads woven together into a stunning array of colors that depicted a dragon raining fire down upon a town that was built on a lake while the colors of twilight lit the sky behind it, smoke curling up to mix with the dusky hues of evening.

The figure moved slightly, enough to make sure she could no longer pretend that she hadn't noticed him. She allowed her eyes to travel up to the man sitting next to her, cross-legged, on the bed.

He looked just the same as he did in the painting. The same as he did that day at the Thornwood Base. Maybe this was his favorite ensemble.

Or maybe this wasn't him at all. Though his form wasn't hunched or distorted at all, Maxwell's eyes were solid white.

He stared down at her with a slight smile on his face. It was the sort of smile that a dentist might give a miserable kid who had dragged his feet down the hallway, asked to go to the bathroom, forgotten something in the waiting room, and done anything else he could to avoid sitting down in the chair. It was a look that said, _Did you really think you could keep putting it off?_

He said nothing, merely allowed her to wake more fully. She closed her eyes again and breathed deeply as she forced her mind awake. Then she sat up, rolled her neck along her shoulders, and tried to get out of bed.

She sat on the edge of it, went to lower her foot to the floor, and stopped. There was a pool of shadow right beneath her, and she was reminded forcibly of a story by Stephen King she'd read years ago – The Raft. A black spot in an old lake, like an oil slick, that consumes you (painfully) the moment you touch it.

She pulled her feet back onto the bed. The shadows shivered, as if in amusement.

She turned to see that Maxwell hadn't moved. He was still watching her patiently. At last she said, "I died, didn't I?"

His smile widened. "Yes indeed, 'my dear'."

She knew that condescension. She recognized it from the last time she was here. "You're the Shadow, aren't you?"

This time, the being showed no sign of rage at being called out. On the contrary, it seemed perfectly at ease. "Mr. Carter is not best pleased, but I managed to…  
convince him…to allow me to introduce you to your new life here. I daresay I'll be quite capable of showing you the ropes."

She didn't respond. She just looked around, eyes skimming the paintings once more.

The Shadow said, "You know, you never answered me the last time you were here. Do you like it? A bit gaudy for my tastes, but Maxwell seemed to think it would please you."

"It's lovely."

The Shadow grinned. "Lovely. Yes. Quite lovely."

Its teeth weren't pointed, but they didn't need to be. It didn't need to show any outward signs of inhumanity to let her know that she was dealing with something wholly inhuman.

"You're taking your time, aren't you?" She asked. "I assume you have something in mind for me."

It licked its lips and held out a hand. A glass of wine materialized out of nowhere, and it took a deep sip. "Why would I hurry? I have all the time in the world. Years to enjoy you. Decades. Centuries, even. Why spoil myself by cutting to the chase?"

Fear hadn't set in, not yet, just a deep uneasiness. She knew she couldn't afford to panic, though the memory of what it had promised to do to her was clanging in the back of her mind like iron bells. She had freedom of movement, but she would need to stay on her guard. If she allowed herself to be bound, then it was over.

She got no indication that the Shadow was sensing her thoughts. She supposed that was because she wasn't there only in mind this time – she was there physically. She had no idea where 'there' was relative to where she'd come from, sadly, but at least she had a basic idea of her surroundings. A mansion in the middle of a dark, endless wasteland stalked by a monster that would kill her the moment she stepped out of the light.

Goodie.

The Shadow's eyes started trailing across the room as it sipped its wine. Allena asked it, "Where is Maxwell?"

It's eyes rolled back onto her and it replied, "Well, he isn't _here_ if that's what you're wondering. Just you and me, 'my dear'."

"My deal was with Maxwell. Not you."

It laughed harshly. "Think back, girl. Who carried out his part of the bargain? Who so kindly sewed your soul back into your body? You remember, don't you?"

She did. She remembered the real Maxwell, nothing more than a shadow cast on the wall, straining against some ethereal bindings while the Shadow had carried out the deed.

It didn't seem to require an answer of her. It went back to sipping its wine, and she said, "I want to talk to Maxwell. Where is he?"

The Shadow didn't answer. Its wine was half done, and it swirled it around in the crystal glass and took a deep whiff before sipping again. "Such a delightful beverage, this wine. Who would have thought to take sweet, delectable grapes, and let them rot for weeks, months, years on end?"

Allena had read that wine had likely been a discovery rather than an invention, but she didn't volunteer the information. After another moment of silence, in which the Shadow savored another taste, it said, "I think that, once I've finished this glass, I'll pluck out your eyes and bring them to Mr. Carter as the olives in a martini. He likes martinis. How does that sound to you?"

Okay. It was time to go.

She jumped up as the darkness on the floor surged up onto the bed. She leaped over the Shadow towards the door on the other side, and it's eyes followed her with some amusement. "Well, I said I would not cut to the chase," it said laughingly as she sprang off the bed and reached for the doorknob. "But I suppose a chase would be a fairly entertaining way to start things off. Run, little mouse, run!"

Little mouse. The descriptor felt accurate. She wrenched open the door and glanced back to see rivulets of ink gliding across the floor towards her, ululating like snakes. At a gesture from the Shadow one of them even rose off the floor and assumed the shape of a king cobra.

Allena turned and ran.

She had no idea how high up she was in the mansion. If she was at ground level it would be no problem for her to find the doors or even jump out a window if she needed to. There was a tall, full-length window at the end of the hall. The shadows were chasing her, so she couldn't look long, but she reached it and paused just long enough to see…

She must have been on the top story of the house.

Lights glimmered in the garden far below her. They twinkled tauntingly, and she dismissed being able to jump out the window. She got the sense that the Shadow wasn't going to let her die, but it would probably suit its purpose if she broke every bone in her body.

She saw stairs to the right and ran towards them. She wasn't on the top story; from what she saw, the stairs went both up and down. She'd hoped they would curl around in a single staircase all the way down, but no-go. She flew down them and saw they only went one floor, leaving her in an antechamber with four connecting doors. The floors beneath her bare feet were marble, solid black rather than checkered, and all of the doors were lined with different styles of decor. One was flanked by two golden statues of Maxwell. Another had potted plants—

She didn't look at the others. The cobra-shadow dropped down from the railings above her head and almost landed on her. She veered away from the Maxwell door and ran towards the plants.

It occurred to her as she skipped by the Maxwells and flung the next door open that she probably ought to be looking for the man. He'd protected her from the Shadow once before. Perhaps he would again.

She slammed the door shut behind her and saw a lock on it. She turned this just as it started to rattle, but her relief was short lived. A faint black ooze started seeping under the crack in the door with the slow consistency of vegetable oil.

She turned to flee, and gasped. A lush jungle was spread out before her, tropical flowers dotting the ground, and black waters trickling from tall mounds of stone into narrow little creeks. Above her, the sky was lit by a hot, unyielding sun.

 _Ah,_ the Shadow's voice sounded in her mind. _You've found one of his play rooms. He likes to craft such biomes from time to time, test them out, see if they're deadly enough for our visitors. Or too deadly._

She sincerely hoped this one wasn't deadly enough.

She sprinted into the jungle as the shadows behind her started bubbling and regaining their forms. One of them seemed to be taking on a familiar shape, one she'd seen a while back when she'd been going slightly mad in the Deerclops Forest. Many legged and bulbous, it crawled after her like a big, furry insect.

She ran under a vine only to have it whip out and try to curl around her neck. Several others tried this as well, and she was forced to duck low and weave left and right to avoid them. There was a bright flash of blue and purple as a bird flew screeching out of the undergrowth. A thought flashed through her head briefly – _African Pygmy Kingfisher!_ – but it wasn't terribly helpful. She turned her thoughts to finding a way out of this killer jungle.

She ran until she came across a clearing. She looked up to see if she could see the walls, but at first it seemed that there were no walls. No ceiling, either. Just open, turquoise sky.

But not quite. She could see, just faintly, patterns in the sky where it bent and curved. If she looked hard enough, she could see paneling. Following this to the horizon, she saw where ceiling gave way to molding. There were walls. The closest one was off to her right.

The shadows were gaining. They rumbled at her, but she was sure she only heard it in her mind. It made her flinch, regardless, and she ran for the wall.

She almost ran into it. It looked like a continuation of the biome she was in, but she held her hands out in front of her, slowed, and sure enough her hands hit wood. She ran them along the wall as her eyes searched frantically for a door, and—

Yes! There. There was a doorframe, and she was able to find the knob right away. She turned it, opened the door, and slipped it closed behind her.

She was now in another hallway. The walls were lined with black and white paintings of knights and rooks and bishops, kings and queens and pawns, and at the end of the hall was another set of stairs.

She heard the shadows approaching in her mind. They ran towards the door…

…then she heard them growing farther away as they passed it.

_NO, you idiots! Back there! The door is hidden! Go!_

At the sound of the Shadow's voice in her mind, she ran. It wouldn't take long for them to pick up the scent again with their master leading them on.

This time she was able to get down two levels, skipping a landing that looked to lead to some twisted hall of mirrors. She's loved the mirror maze in Portland when she'd gone as a child, but without the psychedelic rainbow glasses, what was the point?

She passed it by. Another landing, another set of four doors.

One of them was flanked by statues of knights, so she definitely ixnayed that one. Another had tall pillars of what appeared to be pure opal set into the wall, and she had no idea what that might stand for. One door was black. Hard pass. Another was gold. She supposed…

No, wait. There was a fifth one, off to the side out of sight, and it appeared extremely unassuming. She went for that one.

She opened the door, happy to have a short head start on the shadows, and her jaw dropped as she closed and locked it behind her.

It was a bathroom. A bathroom the size of a small ballroom. The throne was off to her immediate left with a draw curtain in front of it, as though put there as an afterthought, and that may well have been. This room was clearly meant for more than that.

The floors were coarse, glittering white marble shot through with thin veins of gold, easy to walk on even if wet. Statues of dolphins, whales, catfish and sea serpents broached the floor in unbroken perfection, as though the entire room had been hewn out of a single, massive rock. Cabinets and tables stocked with crystal decanters, fluffy towels, and a rainbow of soaps lined the walls. In one corner of the room was a fogged glass shower, golden shower heads jutting out of the wall, and in the middle of the room was the bath tub. Based on the size and the seating indentations, it was clearly designed for two people. The ceiling was darkwood, set with huge, round mirrors like ponds that reflected the gold and white floor, the largest being set directly over the tub.

The bottom of the tub was covered in a layer of fine sand, and there were small platforms around it that would be perfect for holding plates and glasses. It was the sort of bath she could lounge in for hours, nibbling Sees' raspberry truffles, popcorn, fresh fruits and vegetables, sipping a white Russian or a cup of tea with a good book in her hand, or maybe just dozing to the sound of music playing softly in the background, some Christopher Larkin…

She shook her head and looked around. There was another door on the opposite side of the room. She ran for it just as she heard the handle jiggling behind her, and she spared one last wistful glance at the bathroom.

_Note to self: If you ever end up a billionaire, hire Maxwell to design your house. The place would make a Trump Tower look like a Motel Six…_

She thought this jokingly, but as she sprinted down the next hallway her unvoiced laughter lodged in her throat. This house really was amazing. The bathroom alone had been enough to tempt her, and who knew what beauties had been hidden in that jungle back there? "That bird…" she muttered breathlessly. "How did Maxwell know how much I like birds?"

_His knowledge of you is limited, 'my dear'. He made everything in the hopes that you would find something to delight you while exploring these halls. It is a fine thing he offers you. Surely a bit of pain is a small price to pay?_

She glanced up at the ceiling as she reached the next set of stairs. She grabbed the railing and started down them, shouting upwards, "You want to pluck out my eyes!"

_And peel your skin off, break your bones, etc. etc. But honestly, once all that unpleasant business is out of the way, you're all his! My grudges only last so long…_

She spat on the landing she passed as she started down the next set – another double staircase – and the Shadow replied,

_How uncouth. I'll have to have that cleaned right away. JANITOR!_

A little door she hadn't noticed on the landing behind her burst open, spilling another shadow out. It had four short, insectoid legs supporting a tall, curving body that seemed to be nothing more than a giant, fanged beak with spines jutting out of its back. There were holes in its head that seemed to be eyes, round and staring, and it shrieked in her head like a maddened scrub jay and started after her. It also appeared to have a mop sticking out of its side like a thorn, the head flopping around as the beast skittered down the stairs. A blue janitor's cap was perched on its head.

She took the steps two and three at a time, using the railing to keep herself steady, and she hit the next landing running. She barely had time to look at the doors around her – red, blue, fish statues – before she picked the closest one and grabbed the knob.

Crap. There wasn't time to choose another one, but as she glanced to her left she saw it was flanked with statues of towering, snarling hounds.

No time to course correct. She wrenched the door open, ran in, slammed it behind her as the terrifying beak creature – the terrorbeak – rammed into it, and—

She was in a room full of puppies.

Honest to goodness, the entire room was just filled with puppies. Barking, jumping, playful, happy white-eyed puppies. It was another outdoorsy room, the whole thing a field of grass and flowers. They weren't like any flowers she'd ever seen, the things looked downright evil, but other than that it was really a nice place. The sky here seemed to be the cusp of twilight, a tiny sliver of sun just barely poking out over the horizon.

She looked around and realized that there weren't just puppies. On little catwalks, raised up so the dogs couldn't reach, other animals were strutting around as well. These were shaped like cats, but with the faces and tails of raccoons. Catcoons. Or Catkits? Coonkits? Kittykits.

The shadow was leaking under the door again. She didn't have time for this.

She ran across the room, trying desperately not to step on the puppies as they swarmed her, and reached the other side. The doorknob was the sliver of sun, and she grabbed this and slipped through just as the terrorbeak rose up on the far side of the room and rushed after her. A puppy slipped out with her, and she gently shoved it back in before closing the door.

Another hall. She ran down this one to the next set of stairs. She had to be getting close to the bottom, right?

_Why keep resisting? I will have you. There is no escape._

It sounded irritated now, as though it were growing impatient.

"Thought you didn't want to…cut to the chase," she panted as she ran down the next set of stairs.

_I am going to bite off your fingers and use them as stir sticks for those martinis._

The next landing had only a large pair of double-doors on it. She ran through these, and found herself in some sort of survival superstore.

She shut the door behind her and turned to the rows and rows of towering shelves, all stocked with everything she could think of. Raw materials like grass, reeds, and wood; refined materials like rope, planks, and stone cut to different sizes. She saw a glimmer of gold and gems peeking out of one aisle.

If she only had a backpack she would take advantage of this stuff, but she didn't…

Oh. Wait. The walls off to either side of her were hung with hundreds of backpacks of differing shapes and sizes. She even saw a replica of her own modern, heavy-duty camping pack.

Too heavy. She grabbed a large, light-looking grass and leather-reinforced pack off the wall and picked an aisle.

She snagged some grass, ropes, and sticks, tossing them into the main compartment, and also took a few pieces of stone and flint while running by the rock section. There were piles of jerky stores wrapped in leather in a bin, and she threw some of those in there, too. One shelf was lined with piles of torches. She grabbed four of these and threw them in the pack.

She saw the exit, and that was just as well. She heard the doors crash open behind her, the pursuing shadows roaring in her head.

She ran for it, but something she saw that made her pause. It was a weapons section, stocked with spears and knives and other such things, but right in the middle, on a black pedestal, was a sword. It was partly translucent, and looked to be made of nearly-solid shadow.

She stared at it for a fraction of a second. It was back in the direction her attackers were approaching from. Did she have time to get it? Should she give up her head start for it?

She needed a weapon. She ran for it.

A shadow, the king cobra that had first begun the chase, shot out of an aisle she passed with a furious mental hiss. It rattled Allena's brain and set her hair standing on end. She felt the air grow cold behind her, and she knew that it was right on her heels.

She dodged around bins and weapons racks, threw down a small, lightweight shelf to slow the thing up, and reached for the sword as she got to the pedestal.

The moment she took the hilt in her hand, she felt a bit strange. It was like she'd gained an awareness of something that she hadn't noticed before. It was almost directional, like the way you could stand in an unknown part of a city you'd only visited a few times before, point in a vague direction, and say, _Oh, my friend's house? Yeah, it's right over there somewhere._ Likewise, as she held the shadowy blade, she could almost point in a certain direction and say

_OH, THE REALM OF SHADOWS AND MADNESS AND PAIN AND DAMNATION THAT LIES JUST BEYOND THE THIN VEIL THAT SEPARATES THE REALITY YOU KNOW FROM A WORLD THAT WOULD TEAR YOUR PITIFUL HUMAN MIND TO SHREDS WERE YOU TO CATCH A SINGLE, PALTRY GLIMPSE OF IT?_

_YEAH, IT'S RIGHT OVER THERE SOMEWHERE. PUT DOWN MY SWORD YOU PATHETIC MORTAL WRETCH!_

She gasped and doubled over as the Shadow's enraged voice boomed in her head, leaving her with an instant headache, and the cobra lunged for her.

She turned and slashed without a moment's thought. The blade flew up and severed the cobra's head in one fell swoop.

The moment it had been decapitated, the rest of its body collapsed into an inky liquid that seeped into the ground and vanished. Well, most of it did. A solid-ish looking blob of some sort lay quivering on the ground.

Allena remembered what Wilson had said about needing Nightmare Fuel for his studies. Was this the stuff?

The shadows all screamed in her head, and she felt fury pulse through the house. No time to worry about it. She left it there and ran for the door.

The blade felt perfect in her hand, like it was made just for her. Not too heavy, but with enough heft to feel really dangerous. It was balanced to a T, and as a terrorbeak barreled towards her and tried to block her way, she whirled expertly by it with a sideways slash. The thing crumpled to the side and squawked in pain, but quickly righted itself. It looked to have bled some ink, though, and once that had gushed out of it and seeped into the ground, the shadow looked smaller.

She passed it by and made for the door.

She saw double handles on the inside and figured it might have them on the outside, too. She yanked a machete off a shelf she ran by, skidded to a stop just outside the doors, slammed them closed, and slid the machete through the outer handles. Something crashed into the door, trying to force it open, but the machete held. The shadows would have to liquify again, and that would gain her a few moments.

Then, a bolt of pain shot through her head, and she stopped and clutched her brow with one hand.

_You little bitch. I had planned to break you over years, as I did him, but when I am done with you there will be nothing left for Maxwell but a jibbering mess._

Something was happening. She could feel the Shadow's power cascading downward through the mansion like a flood. She staggered forward, trying to escape, but—

It caught up with her. It flew past her, sweeping her into its thrall, and the world around her went grey. Veins of ethereal red light began creeping and pulsing down the halls, and she glanced back to see that the shadows were no longer going to be impeded by the doors.

They were passing straight through them.

They hissed in delight and slithered down the hall towards her. They seemed far more substantial than they'd previously been, and there was no longer any leeway for her. None at all.

She redoubled her pace.

She made it to the next set of stairs and saw with relief that, at the end of this one, there was a room that looked familiar. It was the entrance hall, the grand one lined with statues of Maxwell, with the black staircase and the gold railing and the _front doors._

As she made her way towards the room, however, a crazed whistling filled the hall and she was forced to juke to the left as a clockwork knight's head shot like a battering ram out of one of the alcoves lining the hall.

There were fourteen alcoves, seven on each side, and out of the first and last two sets hopped knights. Out of the third and fifth stepped bishops. And out of the massive, middle alcoves…rooks.

They were all stepping out clumsily, like they had never been activated before. Maybe they hadn't. Allena had dodged the first set of knights, and now she threw herself into a shoulder roll as the next set bent over and flung their heads out in their signature butting attack. She rolled under them, and their heads crashed together.

She heard a sharp humming as the bishops started charging their lightning bolts, and she knew she had about half a second to take cover. She shot past them as they turned to take aim, leapt at a clockwork rook, and grabbed onto its…rook.

Her arms barely reached around the castle-like horn, and she slid around it like a pole dancer on a pole several sizes too large for her. She dropped to the other side of the rook's head as the bolts of energy scattered against the massive clockwork beast.

It bellowed furiously and made to swing at her, but she was already gone. The next set of bishops was charging up their attacks, so she ran straight at one – it's eye widened in surprise – and she ducked behind it as its buddy fired.

_POP!_

The bolt of the first bishop's lightning hit the second bishop's lightbulb head and blew it up. It sank to the ground, busted, prompting the first bishop to made a wheezing, electrical drone that sounded like,

_Wuh, oh._

"Uh, oh, indeed," she mumbled as she dodged by two more sets of knights.

The shadows, cascading down the hall towards her, were slowed up considerable by the clockwork creations. Still, she could see that this would only grant her a few seconds. She reached the top of the stairs…

And froze. The Shadow stood in the middle of the room.

Allena looked out and grimaced. Everything looked strange. It was like she was seeing two pictures that overlapped imperfectly, and though they were almost identical there were just enough differences to make her eyes ache. One world was grey, shot through with veins of red that were creeping up the walls and across the floors and traveling up the staircase towards her. The other reality was full of gold and light, and the carnation on the Shadow's jacket was bright red. In this reality, it stood alone in the room and cast no shadow. But in the other reality – the grey reality—

She looked up at the wall behind it and almost dropped to her knees. The Shadow cast a shadow.

It was as tall as the Deerclops, though its limbs were not so spindly. Its arms were so long they lay against the ground, and were tipped with curling claws. Huge lumps bulged out of its head, possibly horns, and wisps of darkness were rising from its hunched back like tiny tongues of flame from a fire.

The door sat between its legs.

She moaned. It was gone for a moment as the world flickered back to color, then it reappeared. Its minions were approaching from behind, so she had to stumble down the stairs. She nearly fell.

The Shadow laughed. _Come, my dear. You See, do you not? You see how hopeless it is to resist? Kneel before me. Kneel, and I will show you mercy. Come._

She took a lurching step forward before she could even contemplate what it was saying, and she forced herself to stop. No. No. She couldn't.

 _You can,_ it crooned. _You can, and you will. Come, my dear. It is so much easier to just give in…_

She stood still. The shadows on the stairs behind her had stopped. They were swaying and shuddering as though in ecstasy, shrieking their praises to the being whose mere presence was enough to weaken the veil between worlds, to make her glimpse what lay beyond, and her mind was splintering—

No. No. There was a way out. There had to be. Where…?

Her neck went rigid. She turned her head. To either side of the staircase there were just plain, blank, grey walls, but she could have sworn…

_Come. Kneel. Acquiesce._

No. She focused her mind, willing herself to see the real world, and as it flickered back into color she saw something that did not seem to be present in the Shadow world at all.

A door. A door behind the stairs, to the left of them, where no door should have been. A plain, cherrywood door with a golden handle. The one she'd seen the first time she'd come.

She ran for it.

Everything in the world screamed at her as she sprinted for that door. The shadows on the stairs above her surged towards the railing, intent on jumping it and falling upon her, but she made it past them and grabbed the handle, throwing it open.

She stepped inside, closed it behind her, and in an instant the world was back to normal.

There was no grey, no veins of red. There were no voices screaming in her mind. No monster on the wall, no Shadow telling her to kneel.

All there was, was a dark room lit by small electric lights encased in smoky glass. It was a long room lined with bookshelves, hundreds of careworn cloth covers with faded lettering on the spines. There was a comfy, cushioned reading chair beside a lightly smoldering fire, a small table in front of it, and in front of the fire was curled a little catcoon. Catkit. Coonkit? Whatever.

There was a carpet trailing down the middle of the room past all the lamps and the chair and the fireplace, but it wasn't a fine, posh red carpet like the one outside. It was as old and careworn as the book covers, a deep crimson color with light yellow leaf and flower patterns.

At the end of the carpet was a tall, clear, crystal tank lit with soft, yellowish light. In the tank was suspended a woman.

Allena walked up to the tank. She didn't feel any trepidation. The woman inside appeared to be asleep. She was somewhat short, like Allena, and had dark hair done up in a cute bob cut. She was wearing a lovely, light grey dress with a black, silken belt looped around her waist. A red carnation was tucked carefully behind her ear.

She had really cute dimples.


	48. Race Through Darkness

Allena stood peering into the tank. She tapped on the glass and said, "Charlie?"

The woman's eyes snapped open and locked on hers. She looked quite surprised.

Allena jumped a bit at the sudden reaction, then calmed herself and tapped again. "Hey, are you Charlie?"

The woman nodded and spoke, but though Allena could see her mouth moving she could hear no sound. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

The woman – Charlie – seemed to grow worried. She looked around past Allena, and Allena asked, "Are you looking for the Shadow? It was out there just a minute ago, but I don't know if it can follow me in. It doesn't seem to be trying to, anyways. Hey, are you alright in there?"

Charlie nodded, but looked confused. She tried talking again, and Allena shook her head. "Nope. Still can't hear you."

Charlie stamped her foot with a look a frustration, an awkward move given that her feet weren't touching the floor.

This was Charlie. The real Charlie. Allena would bet just about anything on that. But what was she doing here? And what was with that shadow Charlie out in the darkness?

"Hey," Allena asked. "How long have you been in there?"

Charlie shrugged. Allena asked, "Days? Months? Years?"

Another shrug. She put her hands beneath her head and closed her eyes, miming sleep.

Allena frowned. "Okay, well, did you know that you have some sort of evil doppelganger running around trying to kill people?"

Charlie's eyes popped open in shock.

"Woah," Allena said, raising her hands calmingly. "It's okay. No one's been killed. A few minor injuries, that's all. We just can't help but wonder whether that's you or not. The you that's out there doesn't seem like you, but it doesn't seem entirely crazy, either. I once thumped it on the head and it went, 'ouch!'"

Charlie looked even more confused, and Allena realized she probably wasn't doing a very good job at explaining the situation.

Charlie pointed at Allena, tapped her head, and pointed at herself.

_You know me?_

Allena bit her lip. "Yeah, I know who you are. Um…your sister, Winona, is here, and—"

Charlie's face lit up at once and she pressed her hands to the glass, looking around wildly.

Allena made another calming gesture and said, "No, sorry, not _here_ here. Just in the Constant. This whole world."

Charlie looked disappointed, so Allena clarified, "Trust me, you wouldn't want her to be _here._ _Here_ is a really bad place to be. I'm trying to escape _here_ right now. Winona is back at our base with everyone else we've found. She has a bunch of friends keeping her safe, and she's comfy and well-fed. She'll be alright."

Winona nodded acceptance, then her eyes widened. She waved her hands for a moment as though trying to figure out how to convey what she wanted to say, and finally settled on a series of gestures. A tie. Straightening a suit jacket. Slicked back hair. Then, unless Allena was badly mistaken, whooshing a top hat off of her head and pulling a rabbit out of it.

She frowned. She wasn't sure about the rabbit, but the rest…

"Uh, Maxwell?"

She nodded, eyes wide, and looked around the room. She seemed almost desperate.

Allena swallowed. "Were you two…friends?"

Charlie looked back at her, and her features seemed to melt into dismay.

Allena pushed her hair back behind her ear nervously. Going by that expression, the answer was probably 'yes'. What was she supposed to tell this woman? That her friend was possessed by a demon? That he'd been trapping, tormenting, and killing people in the Constant for years? That everyone who knew him thought he was a monster?

She cleared her throat and said, "Uh, he's alive, but he's in some trouble."

At once Charlie looked relieved, and Allena realized that she couldn't bring herself to tell the trapped woman any of that stuff. At least, not so bluntly. Instead, she did what she could to put the most optimistic spin on all it possible.

"Uh, so he's sort of—"

_Possessed_

"—in trouble with this evil demon thing. I think—"

_Know_

"—it might be making him do some bad—"

_Evil_

"—stuff." Her nose was itching. She forced herself not to scratch it. "But I don't think he wants to. I think he's trapped, but I don't know where, and I'm trying to find him. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

Charlie's gaze sharpened as she said all of this, and she shook her head. She pointed at herself, pointed down at the ground, then mimed sleep again.

_No. I've been here, sleeping._

Allena sighed, but before she could say more Charlie pressed her hands against the glass. Her face became pleading. She started trying to talk again, her mouth moving at a million miles an hour, but Allena just stood there shaking her head. She couldn't hear anything.

Charlie gave up, fisting her hands in her hair and shaking her head miserably.

 _Dammit,_ Allena thought. _I have to do something._

Wait – she'd recently had a whole conversation with their ghostly friend that was nothing but yes or no questions. They'd been able to dig up a fair bit of information like that. Maybe she could do the same here?

"Okay, Charlie." She looked up. "I'm going to ask you a few question. You can nod for yes, shake for no, and shrug for maybe. Okay?"

Charlie nodded.

"Okay," Allena began. "First off, have you been anywhere but here since you came to the Constant?"

Charlie shook her head no, but then shrugged. _No, maybe._

"You don't remember being anywhere else, but you might have been?"

A nod.

"Okay. Are you okay in there? Safe? Healthy?"

A nod.

"Alright. Do you know how I can get you out?"

A shake.

"It is possible that I can get you out?"

A shrug.

"Do you want me to try? Right now?"

Charlie thought about this for a moment, then shook her head. She pointed at Allena, made a looking-around gesture, and mimed a tie.

"You…want me to look for Maxwell?"

She nodded furiously now, looking desperate. She lifted her hands. More.

"You want me to…help Maxwell?"

She nodded, then laced her hands in front of her and shook them.

_Yes. Please, please, please._

Allena let out a long breath. "You're really good friends, aren't you?"

Charlie crossed her arms in front of her chest and bit her lip, looking away. Then she looked back to Allena and placed her hands over her heart.

Allena felt a sickening swoop in her stomach, but kept her voice steady. "You love him."

A nod.

Allena looked down and rubbed her temples.

_'Old friend' my ass, Maxwell!_

How was she supposed to save him? She would be hard-pressed just saving herself. Escaping from this living hell might be too much for her, let alone getting _him_ out, too. She didn't even know if he could be saved. And if he could, did he even deserve it? After all the vile things he'd done, did he deserve it?

Allena was about to give Charlie some half-assed assurance that she would keep an eye out, try to help him if she could, but when she looked up she saw something that took the words right out of her mouth.

It was worse than pleading or despair. Charlie looked hopeful. Horribly, horribly hopeful. She just about glowed with it, and before she knew it Allena found herself saying,

"Yeah, of course I'll help him. I'll do whatever I can. We won't leave without him. I promise."

Those last two words tumbled out of her mouth like a ball and chain, clunking to the ground and wrapping itself around her ankle to restrict any movement she might make from here on out. Promises meant everything to her. She didn't make them lightly, and she always did everything in her power to carry through on them. But this promise…

Charlie's features relaxed, and she smiled gratefully at Allena. Allena smiled back at her, but it was hollow. She couldn't go back on this, but damn it all. What had she just gotten herself into?

She looked around the room. There were no other doors, so it seemed she would need to head back out the way she came. That wasn't exactly a winning proposition, but at least it seemed like the Shadow couldn't – or wouldn't – come in here. Maybe she could just poke her head out, see if anything wanted to bite it off, then duck back in until everyone left?

Ugh. She didn't want to get anywhere near that door. She decided to stall for a bit more time. "So, your sister's been pretty worried about you. She'll be really glad to know that you're okay. As soon as I help Maxwell, we'll come back for you and get you out of there, and we'll all head back up to camp. I'm pretty sure Maxwell's worried about you, too. He seemed pretty – um, excited – when I told him I'd seen you. Shadow-you, at least. Um. So, what was with that whole pulling-a-rabbit-out-of-a-hat thing earlier? Is that a Maxwell thing? Did he do…magic tricks?"

Charlie was listening patiently, and she nodded at this. She tapped herself on the chest and flung her hands out in an overzealous gesture of excitement, a big smile on her face.

"You were his assistant?"

A nod.

"Oh. That's cool. Did he perform professionally…?"

Another nod. Then she looked around the room, tilting her head curiously. She mimed scanning her surroundings again and pointed at Allena.

Allena sighed. "Yeah, I guess I should get going. Who knows how long it'll take to find him."

Charlie nodded, then clasped her hands in front of her chest. Her expression was one of gratitude.

 _Thanks. Thanks a bunch._ "Yeah, no problem. I'll…be back later, I guess."

Charlie smiled and nodded, then waved goodbye. Whelp. Time to get going, apparently.

Allena turned away, sighed heavily, and walked towards the door.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she was still standing in front of the door, staring at it in trepidation. She'd paused to pet the kittykit, sat down in the chair to retie her shoe laces, then she'd taken a few minutes to organize her backpack. She'd gone through a few stretches, legs and arms and shoulders and such, in case she needed to run again. She'd pulled out her new sword and made a few practice slashing motions with it. You know, to make sure it was still...working. She'd pulled out one of her jerky bundles and had a quick bite to eat. She'd looked around to browse the shelves of books, but hadn't been able to read any of the covers. She'd pulled out a torch and stuck it in her waistband, and slipped a piece of flint and a rock into her pocket for a quick spark. She would need the light when she got out there, assuming the pillars didn't light.

In other words, she'd done everything possible to put off opening that door. For the last thirty seconds or so she'd just been standing there, tapping her foot, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, appreciating the craftsmanship of the little golden handle. It was just an oval of wrought gold with a few wavy patterns, but it was still nice. Well-shined, too. Not tarnished at all.

She looked back over her shoulder to see Charlie staring at her concernedly. Allena smiled, gave her a thumbs up, then turned back to the door and took a deep breath.

_Okay. It's okay. Just open the door a crack, and when everything in the world jumps at you and tries to kill you, close it again. Easy-peasy._

Ugh.

She hefted her sword in her hand, grabbed the knob, turned the handle slowly, cracked the door open an inch, peered out…

...and saw that the room was empty. Colorful, and empty. No Shadow. No Maxwell. No monsters. No grey-world.

She looked up at the stair railings above her. Nada. She listened. Didn't hear anything.

She poked her whole head out looked up, making sure there wasn't anything clinging to the wall above her. Nothing.

She opened the door a little more and slid halfway out. She quickly looked behind the door in case something was hiding back there, waiting for her to leave so it could close it and lock her out. Nope.

She took a full step out. Still nothing.

She looked back at Charlie and gave her another smile and a thumbs-up. Charlie returned it with an encouraging shooing gesture. Allena felt like a baby bunny that had been hit by a bike, taken to the vet, fixed up, then brought back out set down in front of a big, open field of grass filled with fat, happy wild rabbits. _Go on! It's okay! You can do it!_

Then of course the baby bunny takes five hops forward and gets snatched up by a hawk.

She chased that mental image out of her head. It was fine. She was alone. Nothing to—

The door slammed shut behind her the moment she took another step and she yelped and started sprinting across the room towards the doors, wildly slashing her sword in front of her in anticipation of whatever was about to pop out and try to kill her.

She fully expected to be swarmed by monsters, but by the time she reached the doors on the opposite side of the room and flung them open, she was still alone. She ran down the red carpet, heading for the entry hall, sword still held out in front of her. Still nothing.

She got to the front doors and, expecting them to be locked, grabbed the handles and yanked backwards as hard as she could.

They were unlocked. She fell flat on her ass and the doors swung open and banged against the walls.

That was loud. Surely something had heard that and was coming to kill her. She jumped up and ran out to the garden.

She knew that there were clockwork statues out here, but as she made her way towards the golden gates they stayed stationary and inactive. The pillars were lit, spreading light all through the area, and Allena paused.

There was that orchard of pomegranate trees, their fruits plump and red. She'd never seen such tasty-looking pomegranates.

Her mouth watered. She looked around to make sure nothing was coming to kill her, and she quickly pulled out a small knife and ran over to the trees. There was a clockwork knight standing sentry six feet away, polished and regal, and she didn't take her eyes off of it while she sawed through the stems of about nine pomegranates and stuffed them in every spare bit of space in her packs. At least she wouldn't be starving any time soon. Water might be problematic, but pomegranates were juicy. They'd keep her hydrated for a bit.

She finally walked over to the gates. Tall, golden, and thankfully, open wide.

They opened onto darkness.

It hadn't even occurred to her not to flee the house. The house was where the Shadow was. And there was obviously something out here. Why else would it have paved, lit roads?

The pillars outside were not lit now, however, and she got the sense that that meant she wasn't supposed to leave. But the gates were open, so maybe she was? Ugh. Nothing was straightforward in this joint.

She pulled out her first torch, struck a light, and took her first step out of the mansion grounds.

 _It really is a nice house,_ she thought wistfully as she turned back to take it all in. She would have loved to have spent hours exploring those rooms, if only she could be sure that nothing in there would try to kill her. Or at least, not try too hard. Her gaze lingered on the few windows which were lit, and she could have sworn she saw a hint of jungle greenery in one of the top ones. Above that—

A chill of fear raced through her, tip to toes. She could just barely see the form silhouetted in the highest lit window, the edge of where the lights from the garden reached, and she was certain it was staring down at her.

She felt a distant ripple of anger pulse through the air, and the gates rattled. She jumped back just as they slammed shut, locking her out. Looked like she was doomed to darkness.

No. She would be fine. She had plenty of torches, and she knew Maxwell had the power to keep the darkness at bay. Hopefully it wouldn't take her long to find him.

She started off down the checkerboard road. Swirling slate spread out past it into shadow, but she didn't bother with it. She would find Maxwell at the end of the road, or not at all. Torch held out in front of her, she walked.

Everything looked the same as it had when she'd been there last. The road, the slate, the white Greek pillars, the narrow roads conjoining with a large one. When she'd come here last, she'd taken the main road at least half a mile in her race before coming to this little branch. She'd come from the left, and there hadn't been much in that direction, so she would head right this time.

She turned right and decided to take it at a light jog. There was no way of telling how long she would be looking, and she only had four torches – maybe enough materials for three more. She would need to find Maxwell, or a resource hub, before then.

Though she'd been running a fair bit that day – or night, who knew down here – she still felt pretty good. Whatever the Shadow had done to her after she'd died, it had left her body in excellent shape. Gone were the bruises and scratches and burns from the battle. Gone were the aches and pains that she tended to accrue from daily life. She wondered if her scars were still there.

She pulled up her sleeve to see that the mess of white tissue from the hound attack was still present. So were the claw marks from shadow-Charlie's last attack.

She pulled up her shirt and stopped dead in her tracks to examine the sight. Her entire abdomen was just one white plain of scar tissue in three overlapping sections.

She whistled, dropped her shirt, and kept jogging as if to leave the sight behind. Well, if she'd needed any proof that she had, in fact, been killed by that thing…

She heard nothing out in the darkness. Nothing crawling, nothing skittering, nothing howling, nothing chittering. The silence was starting to weight on her, so she sang quietly to herself whenever she slowed to a restful walk. About an hour in, her torch was running low, so she pulled out the next one along with another piece of jerky. If she didn't find Maxwell by the time she lit her last torch, she would head off-road to look for resources.

Another torch burned out. She pulled out the next one. That one burned out, too. She resolved to move faster and kept up a pretty heavy jog for the next half and hour. The road was straight and unending, and though there were many small roads branching off to the left and right, she kept to the main one.

Once she was forced to pull out the last torch she'd brought, she hunkered down to whip up three more with the resources she taken along. She also took a good twenty-minute break to skin and eat a pomegranate – sweet and juicy, a real treat – munch down a bunch more jerky, and rest her legs, and when she started up again she felt much refreshed. Three more torches. She'd been walking for miles. There was no way she could exhaust three more torches before finding something.

Two torches later, she was starting to panic.

As she pulled out the last one, she turned to head off-road. She needed sticks, grass, wood, anything flammable if she was to keep going.

The swirling grey slate extended maybe twenty feet past the road before giving way to cracked, dust bedrock. A few jagged chunks of stone were scattered about, but they weren't flint, they weren't sharp, and they weren't useful.

She walked parallel to the main road, counting on it not curving, and looked for resources. At one point she saw a withered shrub of some sort and ran towards it hopefully, but upon grabbing it, it crumbled to dust. She tried lighting the dust on fire, but no-go.

It was neither hot nor cold in this void, but she was starting to sweat. Maybe she needed to go further from the road?

She started to walk perpendicular to it, praying that she would find something that would let her make another torch, but she saw nothing until she got to a small ridge that cast a plain of shadow on the ground in front of her. It was so dark it almost looked like there wasn't any ground there at all. Probably a shallow trench. Maybe there would be more that way.

She stepped up the ridge and prepared to jump down it, but before she did she froze. Her torch didn't cast its light very far, and it wasn't quite reaching the bottom of the trench. Probably better to see how deep it was.

She'd taken one of the rocks she'd found earlier, and now she pulled this out of her pocket and tossed it in front of her.

The rock fell soundlessly. It did not hit the ground. This wasn't a dip, or a trench – it was a sheer drop-off.

Her heart began pounding heavily as she realized that she'd almost killed herself in her haste to find more light. She waited several more seconds for the _clack!_ of the rock hitting the ground, but it didn't come.

She waited another minute. Still nothing.

She felt like she was standing on the edge of the world, and the idea made her feel absurdly dizzy. She took a few steps back, turned, and ran for the road.

Her torch wouldn't last much longer. Another half an hour, if that. But maybe – maybe – this wasn't the sort of darkness the monster inhabited? Maybe evil-Charlie wasn't here?

She grabbed her flint and rock, ready to spark up more light, and jammed the torch into the ground, smothering it. Almost instantly she broke out into a cold sweat, and a distant roar echoed through the depths.

She could almost see it in her mind's eye, hurtling towards her at a thousand miles an hour. She clacked the flint a few times with lightly trembling hands, and the torch flared back into life. The presence receded. She could still feel it out there, though. It knew she was almost out of light.

It would wait.

She ran. She only had half an hour of light, then she was dead. Then she was the Shadow's.

Rather than alternate between jogging and walking, she alternated between running and jogging. Ten minutes, still nothing. Another five, she was tiring. She walked for a minute or two, then picked up running again. Ten minutes later…

Her torch was on its last leg. Was there anything else she could burn?

She had some rope. She wound the rope around the six inches of torch left. It flared a little brighter, but it wouldn't last long. She had another five minutes, tops.

She leaned forward into a sprint, but it was useless. She'd come all this way for nothing. The road was endless. There was nothing to be found out here. Why had she even come? Why had she assumed Maxwell was out here? Why would he be? She could have searched the entire mansion before risking this, surely it wouldn't have been so much more dangerous. Why hadn't she at least stocked up on more torches? Why hadn't she brought some pomegranate branches? Why…?

There was a light in the distance.

At first she thought it was her eyes playing tricks on her, or maybe that it was just a couple of sparks from the fading torch. But no. Far in the distance she could see two pinpoints of light – fires atop white Greek pillars, unless she was mistaken.

It was difficult for her to tell exactly how far away they were. The darkness skewed her depth perception, but the proportions suggested they were at least a quarter mile away. At least. Could she make it?

She gauged her torch. Two minutes. Could she sprint a two-minute quarter-mile after all she'd done already?

She needed to. She hurtled herself towards the light.

They barely seemed to draw closer at all as she ran. They didn't cast their light very far, but Allena thought she saw something illuminated by it. She was too far to tell what it was, though. Not a person, she thought.

Or…was it?

Never mind. Didn't matter. Run. Just run.

The torch was down to a couple of inches. It barely gave off enough light to keep the beast at bay. She didn't sense it just then, but—

She dropped the torch stub with a short hiss of pain. It had burned too low and singed her hand. She was now in the dark.

A roar echoed in the distance again. The lights were just ahead. She thought she heard something else, too – music, echoey and distorted.

It was coming for her. She focused on what lay ahead. The form ahead of her was a person. A person sitting in a chair. A shiny golden gramophone belted out a grainy big band number to his left. A small box on a stand was to his right.

The shadow was right behind her. Her legs were burning, she couldn't breathe. She was ten feet away.

It was closer.

She threw herself into the light with a breathless cry of terror as she felt a flash of pain across her shoulder blades. The shadow had clawed at her, tried to grab her, to keep her there in the dark…

But she made it.

Her momentum was enough to carry her into the small circle of light, and as she came to a stop she turned to look back. Barely, just barely, she could see the white pupils of the shadow's eyes reflecting a hint of pillar-light back at her. The pupils were locked on her like a cat's on its prey, but then they flickered up to look at something behind her. They blinked once. Twice.

Then they vanished. Allena flopped onto her stomach and sobbed for breath.


	49. A New Pact

Allena lay on the checkerboard tile staring out into the darkness. She was too tired to turn her head to see what she had found. She just stayed there recovering for a long minute, trying to gauge how badly injured she was. She didn't think the cuts were deep, but it was hard to tell.

"My…what have we here?"

She shivered, but did not respond. She needed another minute.

"Hmmm. I didn't expect you to ever reach this place. I built the mansion that far away for a reason."

She forced an arm under herself and winced at the burst of pain in her back. Still, it was superficial pain. Skin deep, not muscle. She would live.

She got up and turned to face Maxwell.

She stared at the figure for at least a minute without saying anything. This wasn't the Maxwell she knew.

He was slumped upon an inky black throne, and it was clear that he was bound to it. Shadows encircled his wrists and ankles, and long growths stuck up from the ground all around looking like spider legs that would curl around him at the first sign of defiance.

He was clothed in what looked like nothing more than a striped white nightshirt and a pair of long white sleeping shorts, both tattered and torn in several places. He looked too thin to be entirely healthy, and as pallid as a corpse. Pale was usual for Maxwell, of course, but while the Maxwell she'd met before had looked fairly fit (when he wasn't distorted beyond recognition, that was), the Maxwell sitting in front of her now looked like he belonged in a hospital bed.

His hair was slicked back, though. It was black shot through with faint threads of deep silver, and his grey eyes peered dully out at her from under a heavily creased brow. His expression suggested that his resting face was a light scowl.

He looked beaten.

She took a few steps forward. "Maxwell?"

"Yes."

She paused a few feet from him. "The real Maxwell?"

"The one and only. What's the matter, my dear? Find me hard to recognize?"

He sounded bitter. It was hard to tell, however, over the infuriatingly perky music being spewn by the shiny golden gramophone sitting on the floor to his left. There was what Allena recognized as a Voxola radio on a pedestal to his right. She looked at the gramophone and asked, "Would you mind if I turned that off?"

He looked at the device with deep-seated loathing. "You're welcome to try."

She went over to it, examined it, and found the switch. She flicked it. Nothing happened.

She monkeyed with it for several minutes while Maxwell watched her. The music, initially quite fun, was starting to drive her mad. She pointed at it and asked, "Would it be alright if I just…?"

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

She sighed, picked up the gramophone, and flung it against the stone. It shattered into pieces with a screech and fell silent. Just for good measure, she shuffled the wooden bits into a pile, pulled out her flint, and set them on fire.

Maxwell also sighed, but his was a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I've been listening to that song for an eternity."

Yikes.

She watched the bits of wood blacken in the heat, and as she did she considered her circumstances. She'd found him. She'd escaped the Shadow. But what now?

Well, she'd made it this far. She felt that she was entitled to some answers. "How long have you been stuck in that chair?"

Maxwell rolled his neck and said, "I haven't the slightest clue, my dear. Honestly, I stopped keeping track of time decades ago."

Her eye twitched. He'd been stuck in that chair for decades? "But how do you—"

"Hop around visiting you people? I can conjure a homunculus anywhere in the Constant. While I am possessing it, I am insulated from my real body; but it is always right here. Sitting. Waiting. Aching."

Well that explained how he could get around so quickly, and why he didn't die when she stabbed him. She didn't know exactly how to phrase her biggest question, so she just started talking. "I think I saw this version of you a few times. As a shadow on a wall. When I was talking to…"

"The Shadow. The demon. The one who stitched your soul back into your body."

She nodded. "Yeah. That. That isn't you, is it?"

He shifted slightly, as though trying to get more comfortable. "It is not. That being was present when I got here. It is something of the boss around here – all the other shadows obey it. Or maybe they are a part of it. It's difficult to understand, and even harder to explain. The Shadow has been somewhat more free with its knowledge lately, but not free enough to explain its true nature to me."

Wow. Maxwell admitting some degree of ignorance. Not exactly helpful, but at least she was getting somewhere. "What's your relationship with it?"

Allena realized she'd asked the wrong question immediately. Maxwell's eyes flashed with anger, becoming colder than the stone beneath her feet. "My _relationship?_ Who do you think has kept me bound to this throne all this time? _My dear?"_

She tensed at his tone and took a step back. He sounded absolutely livid.

He glared at her for a silent minute, then mellowed. "Oh, who am I kidding? What good is it to be angry with _you?_ You want to know what my relationship is with the Shadow? With Them?" He gestured with his head out into the darkness. "The same as yours, I assume. I am their entertainment."

Good Lord. Maxwell was as much of a prisoner as they were – more so, perhaps, given how thoroughly imprisoned he was. That didn't necessarily excuse his actions, but still…

Maxwell watched her curiously, and she wondered what expressions must have crossed her face during her brief contemplation. Well, there was still a lot to learn. She went on with her questions.

"All the things you've done to us – were those you, or the Shadow?"

He lolled his head on his neck. "Me or the Shadow? Most of the time, there is little difference. When I am possessing the homunculus, the Shadow is possessing me. I become a different person when it does. That is the only way I am able to visit you, however." His eyes rolled up to the dark ceiling above his head. "To project myself, to leave the throne, to create, to destroy; it is the Shadow's power that I exert, not my own. And when I am using it, I am susceptible to its influence."

That didn't exactly answer her question. She waited for him to elaborate.

His eyes dropped back down, and he gave her a sour look as he realized what she was after. "I would not have chosen to do all I have done, had it been only me deciding. At least…not most of it."

That was equal parts relieving and disconcerting. "What would you have done?"

"I am rather lonely out here, all by myself. I cannot say I wouldn't have pursued you to some degree. After all, who else in this godforsaken place has spared a moment's consideration for poor old Maxwell?"

His question was mocking, but Allena provided an answer at once. "Charlie did."

Maxwell stared at her blankly. "What?"

"Charlie. I found her. The real her. And practically the first thing she did was ask about you." She sat down and pulled out a pomegranate to skin. Now that her adrenaline was spent, she was starting to crash. She could use some sugar. "She's back at the mansion, A-Okay. Trapped in some weird glass holding tank, but otherwise fine. The first thing she did after I introduced myself was ask after you. She looked really worried. By the way, you used to be a stage magician?"

Maxwell's expression had morphed into slow shock at her words. "She's alive? _Sane?_ Charlie – the real Charlie, not the monster the Shadow has turned loose on the Constant – is alive and _in my mansion?"_

Allena nodded. "Yup. So, stage magician?"

She glanced up from her fruit peeling to see that he looked surprised at her reiterated question. "Yes. I used to be a stage magician. What else did she say to you?"

She looked back down at the fruit. "I always loved magic. Card tricks, rabbits out of hats, that sort of thing. She didn't really say much. Basically just told me that she was okay, not to worry about her. She asked me to help you."

At this, Maxwell's natural scowl returned, heavier than ever. "And I take it you told her that you would never deign to help a monster like me?"

Eyes still on her pomegranate, she said, "I promised I would do everything in my power to get you out of here."

It was a sign of movement that made her look up. He'd reeled back at her words, and was pressed against the back of the throne. His hands had clenched on the armrest, his muscles tensed, and his eyes were homed in on her face as though looking for any sign that she was lying.

Then, he relaxed back into a sneer. "And, pray tell, what possessed you to make a promise you would never keep?"

She finished skinning the pomegranate, and munched a handful of seeds. She licked the juices off her lips and replied, "If you'd seen her, you wouldn't have been able to tell her to piss off either. But I take promises very seriously."

She set the fruit down, pulled her knife out, and approached the throne. She didn't know what she was doing, she didn't know how to get out of this wasteland, and she didn't know how she could possibly hope to rescue Maxwell on top of everything else, but she'd made a promise to help him. She'd start by getting him off of that throne.

His eyes widened as she wound up to slice at the shadowy bindings that encircled his right arm. "I wouldn't do—"

She swung the knife down. There was a flash of red and the next thing she knew she was on the ground ten feet away, barely in range of the light. The knife was gone.

"…that." Maxwell finished belatedly.

She groaned and sat up. There were black splotches in her vision that were going away only slowly. She was reminded of the time she'd run up to look at some fenced in cows and had found herself flat on her back five feet away, her sister laughing her head off because her little moron of a sibling had just grabbed an electric fence with both hands and gone flying like the kid from Jurassic Park.

She cradled her head in her hands for a moment while Maxwell went on. "Trust me, I've tried everything to get myself out here. I have reason to believe that there are substances and magics which can disrupt and damage the Shadow and its creations, but I am not allowed access to them."

Allena tried to stand, but she wasn't quite able to. Instead she just crawled back over to her pomegranate and started picking at it again. "Ugh. Okay. Where can I get them?"

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Get what?"

"Whatever substances I'd need to fight the Shadow and get you out."

Allena jumped, mildly startled, as Maxwell erupted into raucous laughter. "Fight the Shadow? My dear, you do not _fight_ the Shadow. You survive the Shadow as long as you can, and then you die. Or, in our cases, you hope it grows bored with you and _allows_ you to die. You do not fight it, you do not hide from it, and you do not escape it."

Allena opted to ignore this. What he was suggesting didn't jive with her. "So…no one has ever made it out of the Constant? Not even once, in all the time you've been here?"

Maxwell opened his mouth to reply – but no sound came out.

He was hesitating.

A surge of hope flared up in her chest. "Someone _has_ made it out, then?"

He scowled at her again. "It happened one time, but the means that were used are no longer available. A fox's bolt-hole can only be used so many times before the hunter finds it and seals it off. Once was enough for the Shadow. It will not be so lax again."

"But it's possible to leave? A way can be opened?"

Maxwell looked irritated. "With enough power, yes. With the right spells and mechanics, certainly. With the correct materials and substances, absolutely. But you do not have the knowledge, you do not have the power, and you do not have the materials! _There is no hope!"_

Allena supposed she could give him some soothing placation or inspiring quote. She could berate him for giving up so easily, for not even looking for a way out. Instead, she took a more pragmatic approached. "Why?"

He glared at her. "What do you mean, 'why'?"

"Why is there no hope? You said it yourself – you have reason to believe that the substances we need exist. Even if _you_ don't have access to them, _we're_ free to move around the Constant. We might be able to get them. As for power, the power exists, too. Even if it takes a while to amass and store it, we can do it. How many lightning rods could we possibly need?"

"Fewer than you would suspect. And the knowledge?" He asked petulantly. "Unless you happen to know how to construct an interdimensional gateway, the rest is a moot point."

Allena bit her lip. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing by saying this, but she found her mouth moving regardless. "You mean like the Gateway Wilson made to get here?"

Maxwell nodded. "Yes. But as I'm sure he'll have told you by now, he has no memory of its construction. He will not know how to recreate it. It's not as though there's a handy blueprint lying around."

Allena stared at him silently for a long minute. Then,

"…No. You didn't."

The corner of her mouth twitched up. "I may have."

He was practically bristling at the news. "I recall him sketching out a blueprint on his drawing board, but that was decades ago! It could not still exist."

"A century, actually, but modern restoration techniques are pretty cool. They were able to recover and reproduce the blueprint perfectly."

Even as Allena said this, a sickening wave of fear crashed over her. Was she jeopardizing all of their plans by telling him this?

What a stupid question. Of course she was.

Her sudden doubt must have shown on her face, because Maxwell said, "You are an idiot for telling me this, of course. But if it's true…" He trailed off, head shaking slightly as he took the idea in. "Even I was not allowed access to that information. I was merely the conduit used to relay it to the man. If you were able to bring the blueprints here—"

He stopped, then scowled. "It still may not matter. I recall the Shadow laughing, stating that it had tampered with the knowledge before sending it. The device on those plans was not meant to function for more than a few moments."

Allena said, "Wilson has been studying it in-depth for months. He says he's found all the ways it went wrong the first time. All stuff to do with power overloads and thin wires."

Maxwell looked interested. "Well, perhaps it's possible that he could modify it to make the Gateway stable…"

But still, he shook his head. "Bah. It doesn't matter. Yes, you may be able to accumulate enough energy; but the fact is, there are other powers at play. The Shadow subsidized Higgsbury's trip here with its own magics. Without the Shadow's aid, you will need substances capable of focusing and channeling large amounts of magical power. Metals and gems that I have only seen a handful of times. Things that occur naturally only in this world."

Allena frowned. "Say, you aren't talking about a sort of geometrical orange metal, are you?"

Maxwell looked baffled. "What? How would you—"

"Krampus's cave."

The man looked torn between triumph and frustration. "Of course. It shouldn't surprise me that that foul thief would be able to sneak itself a little prize from the Shadow's trove. Still…"

Allena watched as Maxwell's face took on a series of expressions. Anger. Curiosity. Interest. Bitterness. Misery. Contempt.

Hope.

Then…scorn.

His gaze turned icy. His voice doubly so. "And tell me, my dear; If I were to help you and your little friends gather all that you needed for the Gateway, what would prevent you from leaving me behind the moment you got it up and running?"

Allena's heart dropped. "I won't leave without you. I promised Charlie—"

Maxwell wasn't interested. "Promises! Do you know why I am here, Miss Jones? Because of _promises,"_ he hissed. "I've been promised many things in my life. Wealth. Fame. Power. And look at me now! Look where those promises have gotten me!"

She watched him in dismay. She wanted to speak, to assure him that she wasn't going to turn her back on him, but he wasn't finished.

"You want my help? I will give it to you, but only on three conditions. Only once these are agreed to will I offer you what aid I can."

Allena clenched her jaw, but nodded. She suspected she already knew what two of the conditions were, and she was already intent on honoring them, contract or no. "Alright. What are they?"

"First," Maxwell said. "You will rescue Charlie."

That was no surprise. "Of course. I already promised Winona that. Everyone will be on board there."

Maxwell narrowed his eyes distrustfully at this, but after a moment's consideration seemed to relax. "Fine. Second, you must free me from this damnable throne and deliver me from the Shadow. I have spent enough time here."

Again, predictable. Allena had already promised Charlie she would do this, and she intended to keep that promise; but that wasn't the only consideration. "I'll agree to it, but you know my friends won't, and I don't know if I can do it on my own. I'll do what I can, but you need to know that it might not be enough."

Maxwell seemed to be expecting this answer. "Yes, which brings me to the final condition. If it seems that you will fail in either of the other two conditions, you will forfeit your freedom and remain here, with me, or else die with me. I require absolute assurance of this."

Allena felt a wave of disconcertion at his tone. "What do you mean by 'absolute assurance'?"

His eyes flashed. "I have learned many things in my time here. Among them, a strain of magic that deals directly with life…and death."

Allena got the sickening sense she knew where he was going with this. "You mean like how you and the Shadow brought me back after the Dragonfly killed me? How it kept me from dying after the hound attack?"

He nodded. "Quite. Now, we were able to exert this power over you only because you willed it. There is a certain etiquette to these things, you see; they require consent."

She said flatly, "You want me to give you my consent to kill me if I try to escape without you."

He stared at her in silence for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly at her.

She took a step back and turned away. That was too much. "If I gave you that kind of power over me, what would stop you from killing me at random? If you got cold feet, for instance?"

He rolled his head along his neck unconcernedly. "Nothing at all. But one of us must have faith in the other, or both of us are trapped. And I have put _my_ trust in enough people, I think."

She considered this. She didn't think Maxwell would just kill her willy-nilly. But that was the smaller part of her concern. "Will the Shadow have access to that power?"

"No," Maxwell said firmly. "So long as I work the spell - and I will work the spell - and consent was given to me, and me alone, the Shadow would have no say in the matter. As I said, consent is very important in matters of magic."

She didn't look at him. She kept staring off into the void. If she was wrong about this…

…then what? She died? She was already in the worst situation imaginable. If she died, she would return to Maxwell and the Shadow. If she turned him down, then what?

She still belonged to Maxwell and the Shadow.

She turned back to look at Maxwell, who was watching her patiently. He wanted to get out of here at least as much as she did. He wouldn't let her die so easily, right?

Anyways, there was nothing to lose from making this deal, and everything to gain. If she didn't take Maxwell up on this offer, none of them would ever be able to escape. And she'd already laid all her cards on the table – what was there to lose?

"So?" Maxwell prompted. "What will it be?"

Allena hated the idea that her life would be quite literally in the hands of Maxwell. She'd always at least had the chance to fight him off before. But by the sound of it, he would be able to just snuff her out without hesitation.

Absolute assurance.

But there was no other choice.

"Yes," she replied, voice low. "Yes, I agree."

She could see his breath quicken at bit at her words. "To everything? All three conditions?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Allena snapped. "I'll save Charlie, I'll save you, and I…"

Maxwell stared at her, eyes locked on her lips to watch those last few words spill out.

Well, in for a penny…

"…and if I fail to accomplish either of these, I…" She swallowed heavily and forced the words out. "…forfeit my rights to life and freedom."

She felt a slight chill pass over her as she said this. Maxwell went still for a long moment, then seemed to relax. "Very well," he said, voice tinged with renewed vigor. "Let us begin."

* * *

They had discussed it for several hours. They had a plan.

Maxwell would call the Shadow to the Throne and inform it that he had struck a new deal. He would tell it that Allena was willing to betray her former companions in exchange for freedom. Not freedom from the Constant – just from the pact she'd already made.

Allena had insisted that the Shadow would never fall for that. How could it believe she would betray her friends so easily?

Maxwell's response had been one of barely masked contempt. Evidently, the Shadow was very knowledgeable about human faults, but was totally ignorant of human decency. Fear, it understood. Love was foreign to it. It would accept her fear of it as an adequate reason for the betrayal.

Once the deal was 'officially made', she would be returned to Wilson and the crew. Maxwell had assured her that he would word the contract in such a way as to make her utterly unbeholden to it. This seemed a bit too good to be true, but she didn't really have grounds to question it, so she didn't really have any choice but to trust him. Again.

Once she was back at base, they would need to move quickly. Maxwell would keep the Shadow distracted as much as he was able, but it would otherwise be up to them to gather all the materials they needed. He'd assured her that she would have a way to find what she was looking for, but he'd also warned her that there were threats even he knew virtually nothing about. He could point them in the right direction, but they would need deal with what they found in it by themselves.

She'd asked him how he knew their conversation wasn't being listened in on. He'd told her that the Shadow had noticed her arrival at the Throne, but he had requested a private conversation. The Shadow wasn't happy, but it had permitted it under the assumption that she was a total non-threat. He'd also informed her that he was highly sensitive to the Shadow's presence. He would know if it was trying to listen in covertly.

He'd then gone over what to do after they had built the Gateway. Once that was done they would need to return to this plane – the Throne room, or the Epilogue as Maxwell called it. It had no physical connections to the outside world. Instead, they would need another Gateway.

Maxwell had long ago created a device that one could use to transport themselves there as a sort of game for his guests. No one had ever succeeded in it, and he'd long since grown bored of watching them try. The pieces still remained, however, scattered across the Constant. They were always located within a few miles of his visitors. There were four pieces, and once those were gathered, they would need to be taken to an assembly station.

She'd asked him where the pieces and station could be found, and he'd told her that would be a bit tricky. They moved around a fair bit, but there was a way to overcome that. A Voxola radio tuned to a particular frequency – she'd written it down on her arm so she wouldn't forget – could be used to locate them.

"Like that Voxola radio right there?" She'd asked, pointing to the one sitting on the stand right next to them.

He'd glared at her. "That one's mine. You can't have it. Get that Winona girl to build you another."

"Don't you think that will be a pretty big waste of valuable time?"

He'd narrowed his eyes at her, but had at last relented and let her take the radio.

Once they were in the Epilogue, they would rescue Charlie from the mansion, come for Maxwell, get him free, and he would transport them back to the surface. From there they would activate the Gateway, and…

"Checkmate," she'd said.

Maxwell had nodded appreciatively.

Now, the only thing to be done was calling the Shadow. This was likely the trickiest part; the entire plan hinged upon Maxwell being able to trick the Shadow into releasing Allena. If it was still sore about her escaping, it might not be willing to.

"Go for it," she said. She kept her voice as even as possible, but she was sick with fear. From all she'd learned, Maxwell had only limited power over the Shadow. He wouldn't be capable of protecting her from it if it decided to carry out its previous plans.

_When I have you, I will rip you apart. I will kill you, again and again and again..._

He nodded and closed his eyes in concentration. As he called to the Shadow she turned to watch the darkness again, waiting for the wave of nauseating cold that would announce its presence.

Maxwell said, "It is on its way. Remember, you need only play the part of the terrified victim. Leave the talking to me."

"No problem," she said, and this time her voice cracked a bit. She took a few calming breaths and turned back to get her backpack ready to go. She would need to take it with her.

She saw Maxwell looking at her curiously, and she realized by the slight tingling in her hands that the blood had fairly well drained from all of her extremities, including her face. She must have looked as pale as he was.

Allena saw with some surprise that Maxwell's expression seemed to soften imperceptibly. "Worry not," he said quietly. "I have everything under control. I don't intend to…"

He trailed off as they felt the sudden drop in temperature. The Shadow had arrived.

She turned to watch as it stepped into the circle of light. It was projecting Maxwell's form again, and was clad in the normal black suit and red carnation. It was also swirling a glass of wine.

Allena was standing right between it and Maxwell, and she moved to stand aside as it approached. Maxwell would do all the talking. She just had to leave it to Ma—

A dozen black arms shot out of the darkness and grabbed her. They picked her up and flung her back down to the stone hard enough to knock the breath from her body. As she lay there, gasping and stunned, the Shadow walked calmly over to her.

Black hands had encircled her wrists and ankles, leaving her spread eagle on the floor. She was now tied to the stone directly between Maxwell and his Shadow, totally unable to move, barely able to breathe. Its white eyes looked down at her, void of expression, and it said, "I believe I said that, once I was finished with my wine, I would pluck out your eyes and serve them to Mr. Carter as the olives in a martini."

Her gaze flickered to the glass of wine he had in his hand, and as he saw her looking at this he placed it directly over her mouth and poured it straight down her throat.

She coughed and choked as she tried to expel it and take another breath, but she was sure some got in her lungs. She was coughing so hard she thought her ribs would crack, she couldn't get any air now, and the Shadow was kneeling beside her.

Through her tears she saw its hand hovering above her face. "Now, right or left?"

She wrenched her head away as it reached for her right eye, and it lazily switched to her left. She jerked her head away again, still sputtering wine, but the hand followed her back and forth until a little black limb reached up and grasped her jaw, holding her head still. She felt those cold fingertips come to land on her right eyelid, gently at first, almost pleasant. Then the fingers turned clawed, forcing her eyelids open, and she still didn't have breath to scream—

"Ahem," Maxwell cleared his throat. "I believe I told you that I had struck a new deal with the girl. Perhaps we could discuss it before starting in on the…frivolities."

His voice was cold and uncaring, and Allena had to remind herself that he was only acting. Just leave the talking to Maxwell.

The fingertips, which were pressing painfully on her eye, relaxed and drew away. "I'm not interested in another deal. I'm interested in collecting on this one." The hand reached for her eye again, and she found enough breath to whimper.

Maxwell sighed. "Yes, as would I – as well you know," he added with a large dollop of disgust. The Shadow laughed, but Maxwell continued speaking over it, leaving Allena to wonder what he'd meant by that. "But sadly, it would damage our negotiations. You see, she's quite eager to escape from the consequences of her original deal."

The Shadow's fingers were now drumming on her eyelids, and Allena's shallow breathing had grown hitched with fear. "Oh, no doubt. But I have no time for people who seek to worm their way out of their bargains. And what could she possibly have to offer us now, when we already have everything?"

"Her friends. Life for life."

The Shadow's fingers stopped drumming. It stood up. It hummed ponderously. Then…

Its foot came up and stomped, hard, on Allena's right arm, breaking it. The pain was horrific, worse than anything she'd ever felt in her life. It was electric, deep, mind-numbing, and stunning. It sent her entire system into shock, and for several seconds she didn't even realize that she was screaming.

She just barely processed the Shadow's words over the piercing volume of her own shriek. "I'm listening."

Her eyes rolled around to Maxwell, who was looking down at her with pitiless grey eyes and a curled lip. He looked back to the Shadow and said, "You know that we do not have the power to simply slaughter the meddlesome pests. She will do it for us. In exchange for this, we release her from her bargain."

The Shadow quietly clicked its tongue as it pondered. Allena was still screaming through clenched teeth, thrashing her head back and forth as the rest of her body was totally immovable, and with a snap of the Shadow's fingers a tendril of darkness came up and wrapped around her mouth. She sobbed through her nose.

"I confess, the others have proven more resilient than I had anticipated. It would be quite handy to have such an effective tool against them. But the girl would essentially be selling her debt; distributing the price amongst her friends. I have never cared for the selling of debt…pay what you owe, I've always said…"

It stepped on her broken arm again and started rocking its foot back and forth. She was screaming through her nose, now, and it hurt to expel so much air at once. Flecks of blood and mucus were being expelled with each long, nasal howl, spattering down her face and over the shadow-hand. She was getting lightheaded, and blotches of black started to appear on the sides of her vision. Then the foot was gone, and the world became clear again.

"And yet consider what a delight it would be to watch. The sweetest, kindest member of their little family, killing them off one by one. Can you imagine the look in her beloved's eyes when the knife goes in? When the pain sets in?"

The Shadow made a sound that suggested a very particular type of ecstasy, and it made Allena feel sick to her stomach. She also vaguely noticed that it had not, as Maxwell had predicted, even questioned the fact that she was seemingly willing to betray her loved ones so quickly.

The Shadow's reaction to Maxwell's words was encouraging…until it spoke again. "Ah, tempting! But I cannot in all conscience allow her to get off with her bargain Scott-free, I'm afraid. Now – martini, Mr. Carter?"

It knelt down again and she felt the shadow fall from her mouth, and out of pure desperation she choked out, "Freedom from you, then! Give me to Maxwell, and leave me alone! I'll do it for that! _Just don't touch me!"_

She'd twisted her head as far away from its hands as she could. She was trembling, sweating, crying, and was very close to being sick.

But the Shadow's hand had stopped.

She glanced over to see that its white gaze had become distant, calculating. She would have held her breath in anticipation if she had any to spare.

Even Maxwell was silent as the Shadow thought the offer over. Finally, Allena felt the cool, hateful sensation of its fingers once again stroking her face. They traveled from her forehead to her temple, then down to the corner of her eye. It went under the eye and across, up over the bridge of the nose, smoothed over her eyebrow, and looped around in several figure eights.

Then it spoke.

"Very well. In exchange for the lives of half of your companions – I do not care which, so long as it includes the gentleman scientist – I will cede all claim over you to Maxwell. Does that sound like a deal?"

She didn't know if the wording was right. She delayed answering until Maxwell could give her some sort of hint. It wasn't hard. She just kept sobbing.

After a few moments of this, Maxwell snapped impatiently. "Well? Once Higgsbury and a few of the others are dead, you belong to me and me alone. Is it a deal or not?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes. Please, just…"

The Shadow sighed wistfully and tapped her arm. The darkness wrapped around it, squeezed it hard enough to make her shriek again, and then the limb went totally numb with cold. A few seconds of non-sensation later, they released her. Her arm was healed.

She felt the chill shadows snake across her shoulder blade as well, and her scratch from Charlie was also mended. The dark limbs fell away, leaving her free to move. She shoved herself away from the Shadow until she was pressed against Maxwell's throne. Maxwell's legs.

He was warm. She laid against that warmth as he continued his smooth-talking.

"Of course, it wouldn't do to have you turning your back on us, or delaying too long. I believe I have a solution to that, however. If you wouldn't mind…?"

She looked up, but he wasn't talking to her. The Shadow raised an eyebrow questioningly, then collapsed into nothingness.

She felt Maxwell's muscles tense briefly, and she realized that the Shadow must have possessed him. She stood up and stumbled a few steps away from him. It. Them.

She watched as his irises darted around for a few moments. Then he said, "Ah, yes…I see…very well." She got the sense that this was the Shadow.

Maxwell snapped his fingers and with a brief crackle and a flash of light, something fell out of the air into his hand. He said, "Allow me a moment to ready this…and you – shoo. I will cover this one."  
Maxwell this time.

Again, it was clear he wasn't talking to her. His eye twitched and he fell silent. She saw a vein in his head throbbing for a moment, and she wondered if they were arguing. Then he said, "Given that the deal is centered around you releasing your hold on her, don't you think she may be unwilling to allow you partial ownership of the amulet? I certainly wouldn't want to bet my life on your patience and good will."

After another moment of internal debate, Maxwell shuddered. A pool of darkness appeared under his feet, and it flowed away and coalesced into Shadow-Maxwell again. Maxwell, slightly dazed from the dispossession, hung his head for a moment and took several deep breaths. Then he shook his head and closed his eyes in concentration.

The Shadow looked at her and licked its lips. "Hmm. Look at all the ignorance on your face. You don't even have an inkling of what he's doing, do you?"

She stepped as far away from it as she could, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and shook her head. She stopped when she got close to the edge of the light, and glanced back fearfully.

The Shadow waved its hand dismissively. "Do not worry about the darkness here, girl. My most faithful servant in the shadows is not present. Normally, she is not allowed to inhabit this plane at all, but your presence somehow managed to briefly draw her here. I do wonder why she wants so badly to kill you?"

Maxwell seemed to be focusing hard on something, and after several moments of hefty concentration a whirl of shadows formed about his hands. With a light _pop!_ a book and an amulet fell out of nowhere. He opened the tome to a certain page and began reading it intently. As he did, he held the amulet out in front of him. It was gold, intricate, with a gem of deep, shifting violet. It was lovely, but also a bit disquieting. She couldn't quite say why.

The Shadow seemed pleased with the show that was just beginning. As Maxwell began to chant some sort of Latin incantation, the Shadow began chattering quietly to her. "Ha! Look at him – casting a spell all by himself, without any training wheels! It is so much harder for him to do such things without me," the Shadow explained. Its tone was one of extreme condescension. "He has some natural powers, of course. But they are limited. It is only with me that he has the power to rule this world. But look! There he goes!"

Allena got the sense that the Shadow's chatter wasn't helping Maxwell at all. The man's face was creased in extreme concentration as he spoke. The bindings on the throne had flexed enough to let him move his hands around a bit, and he was now holding the book in his left hand while the amulet hung suspended in the air before his right. She couldn't tell exactly what he was chanting, but she definitely caught the Latin roots 'umber' and 'mort' a fair few times.

Shadows and death. Awesome.

A high-pitched ringing noise had pervaded the air, and the Shadow stuck a finger in its ear and twisted it around several times before flicking its lobes very noticeably. The smell of ozone sprung up, and dark light began to flash around the amulet. As Allena watched, something interesting happened. The more intense the ritual got, the more relaxed Maxwell's expression became. By the time the last flash and crack of sound send Allena cringing away, Maxwell looked completely at ease. The amulet fell into his hand, and he held it out to the Shadow. "Well? Adequate work for a mere human, hmm?"

It inspected the amulet. After looking it over for a few moments, it tossed it back to him carelessly. "Passable."

Maxwell's lips almost turned up, and he looked over to Allena. "Come here."

She walked over to stand in front of him. Looking at the amulet, she now saw that it glowed with just a hint of that dark lightning that had shot about during the ritual. She didn't want to touch that thing, let alone wear it.

But it seemed that's what she had to do. "This amulet contains enough power to cause your heart to explode in your chest. A very quick, painful – ahem, painless, I of course mean painless – demise. Should I get the sense that your heart isn't in your task, don't expect it to remain intact for long."

He said this casually, and she had to keep herself from shying away as he held it out. Instead she reached for it, only to have him pull it back. "No," he said. "I will put it on."

She didn't move. He was sitting down. For him to put it on, she would need to…

Ugh. She really didn't want to, but she recalled what he said about consent. Even though it bothered her on a level she didn't even want to think about, she got on her knees before him. She knelt.

At once the Shadow said, voice high with equal parts rage and hilarity, "Oh, she kneels for _you!_ All the madness I could muster up, and still she refused. But for you, she bends the knee with nary a moment's hesitation! What a fine and subservient plaything she'll be for you, Mr. Carter. I'm sure you'll be looking forward to the culmination of her latest pact."

Maxwell again looked to the Shadow in disgust, and it laughed. There was no real humor in that laughter, though. Only bitterness and scorn.

He dismissed it and lowered the necklace over her head. Once it was on, she felt a small jolt of energy pass through her.

"There," Maxwell said. "You'll be pleased to know that I am the only one with the power to activate that necklace. Oh, and don't try taking it off. You cannot, and if you try to you will receive a rather unpleasant surprise."

She got up quickly and stalked over to her backpack, slinging it over her shoulders. "Fine. Is that all? Can I go home now?"

The Shadow made a noise of intense disappointment. "Oh, come now. Won't you stay for a drink? A martini, perhaps…?"

Allena looked frantically to Maxwell, and the Shadow sighed. "Oh, very well."

She opened her mouth to say goodbye to Maxwell, to make some bunk promise about killing her friends, to request that they give her plenty of time to plan things out, but the Shadow snapped its fingers and the entire world collapsed into darkness.


	50. Suspicion

When Allena began to wake, it was to the sound of frantic, wary voices on the edge of her awareness.

_…can't possibly know what he…_

_…do you want to do, leave her…?_

_…probably get a rope. We need to be…_

She groaned. Whatever Maxwell and the Shadow had done to ship her here, they'd clearly forgotten to use the packing peanuts this time. She felt thoroughly rattled.

The voices continued as a jumble for a while longer. Eventually they came into focus.

"…can't tell. I think so, but…no! Look, she's moving."

She'd forced her fingers to move, hoping that it would bring sensation back to her body, and sure enough she was soon able to start moving everything else. She blinked her eyes open and found herself staring up at the night sky.

There were figures all around her, several feet away, and she turned her head to get a better look. At once she felt immeasurably better. Wes, Winona, and Wolfgang were standing to her right. Looked like she was home.

They were all staring at her like something was wrong, though. Wes merely looked concerned, but Winona had her hand on his chest as though she felt she had to keep him from approaching. Wolfgang was standing with his arms crossed, staring down at her with an unreadable expression.

"It seems she's awake."

She turned at once to Wilson's voice. There he was, half-clad in his armor, spear in his hand, hair tousled from sleep.

Even his expression, which was clouded with some sort of serious tension, wasn't enough to keep the surge of relief she felt at bay. She tried to sit up, but felt something poke her chest.

She turned to see that Warly, who had been standing right in front of her, had taken a step forward and placed his obsidian spear lightly against her sternum. She gave him a confused look. His lips were pursed, and he looked like he wanted to apologize, but all he said was, "Why don't you stay down for a few minutes, Allena?"

She relented, lying back down, though all she wanted to do was hop up and go to Wilson. "Hey, Warly. What's up? Is something wrong?"

"Yea, you could say that," said Winona from her other side. "You ain't supposed to be here."

Wolfgang spoke next, and she thought she heard a bit of anger in his undertone. "We are seeing you die just three days ago. Maxwell, he takes you, ya? Says we never see you again? Says you belong to him now? Yet here you are, in big flash of black lightning. What happens, eh?"

Allena reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes, and the spear poked her again. She winced and lowered her hand. She was starting to get a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Uh. Right. I guess you guys would be pretty confused. I made a new deal with Maxwell. My freedom is just the first part of it, but the rest is pretty complicated. Maybe we could talk about it inside? It's kind of dark out here."

Warly, spear still aimed at her, said, "Hm. I think we can go over it right here. Why don't you start with what he wants?"

She turned to Wilson, who was still staring at her with what she now realized was distrust. Extreme distrust. That…wasn't what she'd been expecting. "Wilson?"

His jaw clenched and he tightened his grip on the spear. "What was the deal, Allena?"

Oh. They thought Maxwell had sent her back to hurt them.

She took stock of the situation as quickly as she could. She'd intended to tell them everything right off the bat, but if there was one thing she couldn't tell them now, it was about the deal Maxwell had struck with the Shadow on her behalf. The fake deal that had allowed her to return. That seemed to be what they were already expecting, apparently.

She felt her gut twist with an emotion she couldn't quite place, though it was akin to grief. They thought she had turned on them? That she was working for Maxwell? They really thought she would betray them so quickly, so easily?

Why?

She swallowed the emotion and forced her mouth to start moving. They didn't look like they'd be willing to wait long for an answer, so she'd just have to make it sound like Maxwell had more power to act than he really did. "Maxwell agreed to help us all get out of here in exchange for—"

She couldn't get a word out edgewise as everyone erupted into a chorus of disbelief.

"What would he want—"

"—really expect us to believe—"

"—man does not want anything but—"

Wes was, obviously, silent, but more than that he was still. He looked at her without an ounce of suspicion, only worry, and she stared back at him desperately. He shook his head, though. There wasn't anything he could do.

She waited for them to calm down, then she said, "No, you don't understand. He's stuck here too. He wants out. He'll help us escape, so long as we promise to help him get out as well."

Wilson spat on the ground in utter disgust, and Allena flinched. She hadn't seen him this furious since Christmas. "Help that monster escape? Unleash him upon the world? I don't think so. Why don't you try again?"

She looked at him in dismay, and saw nothing but anger and suspicion staring back at her. Her throat was tightening up, but she forced it to relax. "Wilson, please – you have to understand. He's not our biggest enemy here. Do you remember that dream I had a while back? About meeting Maxwell in that mansion, only it wasn't Maxwell? It was some sort of demon?"

"I remember your _dream,_ yes. I do not see how it has any bearing on the situation."

"It wasn't just a dream," she insisted. "That thing is real. That thing is the reason we're all here. It's just using Maxwell to accomplish what it wants, and Maxwell is sick of it. He wants out. He told me how to do everything, but…"

She trailed off. She could see from the shaking heads and scowling faces that they didn't believe her. Winona spoke up next and said, "Okay, whatever else is going on here, we can't stay out here much longer. Our torches are only going to stay lit for so long."

Allena tried to sit up again, but Warly poked her back down. "You'll have to excuse us, Allena. We already know Maxwell is capable of some fairly vile trickery. We cannot trust that this is not an attempt to destroy us. You understand, I hope."

No. She didn't. But she laid back down and waited to see what they wanted from her.

"Wolfgang will do the rope, ya?" Wolfgang said from her right.

"Yeah," Winona said. "Just be careful."

He grunted in reply, and Warly – who moved to her left – said, "Would you please roll over towards me? On your stomach, so Wolfgang can get your hands?"

Allena did as he asked, and she felt Wolfgang take her wrists and pull them behind her back. She felt sick and briefly afraid as her hands were bound. With a few quick, sharp movements she was trussed up to her elbows and incapable of moving her arms at all. Wolfgang was good at tying knots.

She tried to get up, but she was still dizzy from the trip. She toppled over the moment she got a knee under her, and she saw Wilson move automatically to help her before he pulled himself back and looked away. His jaw was so clenched he looked like he might crack a tooth.

She felt someone take her arm and steady her, and she looked up to see Wes leaning over her to give her an arm up. An immediate protest came up from both Wolfgang and Winona, but he glared at them hard enough to silence them.

Leaning on Wes for support, she got to her feet and walked back to the base. From the looks of things everything was pretty much back to normal after the Dragonfly attack. At least, there were no longer a bunch of glowing magma pools and dead lavae scattered about. It even looked as though the Treeguard had returned to its previous location – watching over the tiny sapling Allena had planted beside it to calm it after the hound attack, just barely illuminated in the faint glow of the crescent moon.

They brought her into the base and led her over to the campfire. Wolfgang had finished all of their chairs and set a few of them up around the firepit. The rest were presumably at the other base.

Hers was nowhere to be seen. Instead they sat her down on one of their old seats, a low log, and then walked off to converse amongst themselves. At least, most of them did. At Wilson's word, Wolfgang stayed there to watch her. He placed a large, meaty hand on her head and glared down at her over his big, bushy mustache while the others talked.

She looked over to the group to see that Wes was motioning furiously with his hands. She couldn't get the gist of what he was saying before Wolfgang manually turned her head back towards the fire. He didn't seem to want her listening in on the conversation.

After several minutes of this, they came back. Winona said, "Okay, here's the plan. We all need some shut-eye, but someone's gonna need to keep an eye on her until we can sort this out."

Allena didn't know what 'sort this out' meant, but she really hoped it just meant 'get used to having her back so we can let her go'.

Winona continued, "Wes is offering to take the watch, but…"

Wolfgang interrupted. "Wolfgang will do. You sleep. Will stay over here to keep an eye on her."

Winona nodded. "Thanks, Wolfman. We appreciate it. Uh…"

She looked at Allena, and for at least a moment Allena thought she saw a bit of pity in the look. "We'll talk more in the morning. But, you know, it's late…"

Allena didn't reply to that. The ropes were digging into her wrists, and her arms were already starting to ache. "If you're having Wolfgang watch me, could you untie me? Or at least tie my hands in the front or something?"

Winona shook her head. "Too dangerous. We'll fix up something better in the morning. Well…g'night."

And she turned and walked away.

Wes stepped forward, seemingly to help with the ropes, but Warly held him back. "It's just for tonight. Now, go on. You must get some sleep." He gestured for Wes to follow Winona, who was waiting by the exit with her torch in hand, but the mime stamped his foot and crossed his arms.

_I'm not going anywhere!_

She appreciated his concern for her, but it didn't look like it was going to accomplish anything. Winona walked over to him and whispered something in his ear. He gestured to her, though Allena couldn't see what he said from the angle, and Winona replied quietly again. At last Wes's shoulders slumped and he made to follow Winona out of the base.

He gave Allena one last miserable look over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

Wilson sighed heavily. She turned to look at him, but she'd barely caught his eye before he turned away and said, "I am going to bed." He quickly unstrapped his armor, tossed it carelessly aside, and slipped into his tent.

Warly, too, sighed. "Wolfgang, my friend. Are you sure you want to keep watch all night? I can help with this."

"No. Wolfgang will do. You sleep."

Warly said, "Very well. Wake me if you need a rest. Goodnight."

"'Night," Wolfgang grunted.

Within a few minutes the camp was asleep. Allena was sat in front of the fire, wide awake, wrists hurting, back starting to get sore. This wasn't a comfortable position.

She tried moving around a bit, but Wolfgang growled at her. She settled back down, but it was no good. She shifted her legs to try for better seating, and when Wolfgang once again made an intimidating noise she snapped softly, "Leave off, Wolfgang! I can't sit like this all night. I'll go crazy."

He was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "Forgive me, Allena. But I cannot trust you not to be…"

"Working for Maxwell?" She asked bitterly.

He didn't respond, but she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. They thought she had betrayed them.

A wave of abject misery washed over her, and suddenly she didn't care about some petty discomforts.

She sat in front of the fire and waited for day.

* * *

It was only four more hours or so until the sky began to grow pale, though goodness knows the time passed slowly. The pain in her wrists had been getting unbearable, but now she could hardly feel them at all so long as she didn't try to move them. That probably wasn't good, but she would take it over the pain any day.

Eventually Wolfgang had moved around to sit across from her, his club braced against the ground, elbow on the pommel as he rested his head. His eyes drooped, but never closed, and he didn't take them off of her for a minute. He really was a good guard dog.

She'd looked around and taken stock of them camp when he'd dumped a couple extra logs on the fire. Chester and Glommer were both sleeping in their normal places, but the base looked cleaner than it should have. She realized that this was because so much was missing.

A ton of the tools, parts, and supplies they'd been making were gone. She knew they'd been close to being ready for construction to begin when she'd died, but it kind of surprised her that things had gone on as quickly as they had in her absence. It looked like they hadn't even taken a day off. Unless she was mistaken, they'd already transported everything to the other base to begin construction.

So, they would be able to try the machine soon. She sincerely hoped it would work the way they'd built it, but she now suspected strongly that it wouldn't. Even if it did, she wouldn't be able to use it. Maxwell would see to that.

The necklace weighed more heavily on her mind than it did on her chest, and every now and then she was sure she could feel a shiver of power from it, something that made her heart stutter a bit behind her ribs. She was also sure this was just her imagination, but it was still uncomfortable.

There were still a few stars in the sky when she heard Wilson shuffling around in his tent as he awoke. She turned to watch as he emerged, took one look at her, and turned away again. He didn't seem willing to accept that she was back.

He went right to the kitchen and started pulling out the ingredients for tea. They'd gotten to the point where they were having it for breakfast most days, a sweet substitute for coffee. They normally just boiled up a pot on the fire, but Wilson didn't want to seem to come anywhere near her. Instead she heard him start up the stove and put a small pot of water in that. After that he just started puttering around the kitchen. It seemed like he was trying to distract himself.

The sky steadily brightened, and before long Warly came out of his tent with a wide yawn. "Good morning. I hope…ah…well, good morning."

He normally said, 'I hope everyone slept well', but given that Wolfgang was still glaring at her over the fire, and she was still tied up in front of it, he'd probably realized that would have been insensitive.

Wilson turned and said, "Good morning, Warly. I started on the tea. What do you want to…"

He was standing behind her so she couldn't see what had happened, but going by Warly's alarmed expression and worried, "What? Is something wrong?" She figured Wilson had seen something that bothered him.

She figured out what it was pretty quickly. He rushed over to her with a furious bark of, "Wolfgang!"

The man looked up, startled. "Yes?"

"How tightly did you bind her wrists?" He asked. She felt him grab her arms and she let out a loud wince. She hadn't moved them in at least an hour because they were only numb when she kept them still. At Wilson's slight jostling, bolts of pain had shot up both of her wrists straight into her shoulders.

"Eh, not too tightly…why?"

Wilson didn't reply. He just worked on the ropes in silence for another minute, and finally they fell away and left Allen free to move them.

Oh, jeez. No wonder he'd been so upset. Both of her hands were deep purple from severe constriction, and she could barely twitch her fingers. She tried shaking them lightly, but that was too painful. Instead she just laid them down on her knees and waited for the blood to start flowing again.

When Wolfgang saw her hands, he looked stricken. "Oh, dear. Maybe tied a bit too tight."

Wilson didn't reply. He just sat down next to Allena with a fierce glare at Wolfgang, grabbed one of her hands, and started rubbing it.

Instantly a torrent of painful sensation started flooding the limb and she jerked it away. "That hurts," she gasped.

His eyes flickered up to her for just a moment, then he looked down and reached for her hand again, taking it firmly in his and preventing her from tugging it away again. "I'm sorry, my love, but we need to get the circulation going. The damage could be severe if we don't."

At the words 'my love', she wanted very badly to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him, but she got the sense Wolfgang would probably stab her if she tried. Anyways, she still couldn't move her arms that much. Instead she just sat there and, as painful as it was, let him force the blood in her hands to start moving again.

She watched his face as he did this. It was so good to see him again. She wished he felt the same way about her, but that wasn't in the cards just then.

As he helped her with her hands, Warly got started on breakfast. "I will do the tea," he said. "And perhaps a fried tallbird egg and some roasted frog for breakfast before we get to work?"

He received three halfhearted grunts by way of reply, and didn't try asking them again.

Twenty minutes later her hands were no longer an alarming, dusky indigo hue, and Wilson let them go and stood up. She instinctively tried to get up with him, but an automatic movement from Wolfgang made her realize that even if she was free to move, she still wasn't free to move. She stayed sitting with a pang of sadness, and Wolfgang relaxed.

"So I guess you're getting started on the Gateway soon?"

Wolfgang looked like he might protest to her inquiry, but Wilson waved him off as he sat down with two cups of tea. He handed one to her and said, "We've already begun construction. It should be ready to run in about a week."

"A week?" She asked. "That seems long, if you've already started. Anything go wrong while I was away?"

He didn't look at her as he talked. "It's more complicated than I'd anticipated, and we would rather wait to store up another thunderbolt of energy. Shouldn't be difficult – it's been storming on and off since you left."

Since she 'left'. Well, that was one way of putting it. "Maxwell says that it'll take a lot more energy to get out than it took to get in. Magical energy."

Wilson's eye twitched and he asked, voice too calm to be entirely convincing, "Did you talk to Maxwell about the Gateway?"

A wave of nausea hit her. Had she really just said that?

Her mouth opened, but it took a few seconds for her to speak. "I…didn't really have a choice."

Wilson's muscles tensed. He wasn't looking at her. "Wilson, I'm sorry, I—"

He stood up and, without warning, flung his cup against the base where it shattered against the stone wall. She cringed. "Wilson, please, listen..."

But it was too late. He grabbed a spear off the wall and stormed out of the base.

She could feel both Wolfgang and Warly's eyes on her, and she felt a deep surge of shame. They suspected her of being capable of betraying them, and it occurred to her that – even if she hadn't meant to – she already had. She still believed that Maxwell's true motives were the same as theirs, but the fact was she had imperiled all of them by telling him about the Gateway. What if the Shadow found out about it?

Wilson thought she was a traitor, and she hardly even had grounds to defend herself. She buried her face in her hands and felt hot tears start to pool in them. She would gladly have taken a broken arm over this feeling any day.

She didn't look up until Warly finished cooking breakfast and set a plate down next to her. "Thank you," she croaked.

"Enjoy," he replied automatically.

He sat down next to Wolfgang and struck up some casual conversation as Allena picked up her plate and fork and took to staring at the meal. "So, Wolfgang, you and Wes are stocking up on the lumber today, yes?"

"Yes," Wolfgang replied. "Both bases are getting low. Wood will not last much longer. Was that last rain. Very chilly, wet, needed much more for nighttime fire."

"Ah, yes," Warly said. "This land has such chilly springs. Nothing like what we have at home. What about you, Allena? Are the springs and winters very chilly where you come from? I have never asked."

She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. Her food sat untouched on her lap, and she figured she probably wouldn't be able to eat a bite of it. She didn't look up as she replied, "Cold. I come from Maine. Lots of snow and ice in the winter. All year round up in the mountains."

"Brrrrrrr!" Warly replied in jovial dismay. "Not my cup as tea, as you Americans say! I prefer the warmer places of the world. Sandy beaches, swaying palms. In the summer the ocean is like bathwater!"

"Sounds nice," she said dully.

Wolfgang asked, "Hey, Allena, where you go after Maxwell pick you up and carry you off, eh?"

Warly fell silent as the question dropped, and Allena just said, "It's kind of complicated. Maybe we should wait until everyone is ready to hear it?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Warly said quickly as Wolfgang raised a finger to protest. "We will wait for the others. Normally we all meet over there after breakfast, so once we are done we can head over."

She nodded and went back to staring her meal. They went back to eating. Eventually she just set it aside and ignored it, and Warly sighed and took it away. They were ready to get going.

Wolfgang approached her with the rope again, and Allena grimaced. "Come on. Please not that again."

"Am sorry about hands. Wolfgang will not tie so tight this time."

She hesitated, and he yanked the rope taut a couple of times, prompting her to turn around. She did so with a heavy sigh, keeping her discomfort to herself as he bound the ropes. They were looser this time, but only slightly, and the position put her shoulders instantly back in pain. Warly picked up his spear and gestured to the door. "After you."

She went, Warly and Wolfgang close behind her as they made their way across the plain. Allena gasped as she caught her first proper sight of the Vargwood since the battle. It was nothing more than a field of blackened pillars erupting up out of soft white ash. It was a sad and shocking sight.

She looked up at the Treeguard as they passed by it to see that several of its branches were still charred. She wondered if it felt the loss of the forest as she would the loss of a town or city to a wildfire or other natural disaster. "Hey," she asked as they passed the lone sentinel by. "Where's Wortox been? And Webber?"

"Webber is coming by later today with more webs. Wortox…hasn't been around for a while."

That was worrying. She still didn't understand why the imp thought himself responsible for the Dragonfly attack, but she hoped he wasn't beating himself up over it too much.

They reached the base to find everyone sitting around the firepit in discussion, breakfast plates stacked up on the table. They all turned to Allena as she came in, and she quickly looked down at the ground. She imagined Wilson had already told them about her ratting their plans out to Maxwell.

If he had, however, no one seemed interested in talking about it. Once they were all present Winona said, "Alright! I figure we ought to get to work pretty quickly. Wes, Wolfgang, you're on lumber. Wilson and I are working the machine. Warly, you do your thing. We'll just leave Allena in here for the time being; we'll be in and out of the base all day, no need for a guard."

"Shall I keep an eye out for Webber?" Warly interjected. "I do not know if it would be best for him to see Allena in this state. He will not understand why we are keeping her tied up."

"Yeah," Winona said frettingly. "I guess you ought to. What time did he say he'd be by?"

"Around noon."

Wilson spoke up. "Just make sure he doesn't come in here. We'll just ask him to help cart lumber to the main base. Now, shall we?"

Wes began pointing at Allena and gesturing again, but at this point everyone was ignoring him.

She still appreciated his insistence that she was okay, but it wasn't going to do either of them any good. "Don't worry about it, Wes. I'll be fine."

He still didn't look happy, but when he went to tug on Wilson's sleeve to get the man's attention he ripped his arm violently away and left in a huff. Winona looked vaguely irritated with him, but just sighed and shook her head. Then she looked to Allena and said, "Let us know if you need anything, alright?"

"I need to pee."

She groaned. "Ugh. Right. This is gonna be a long week."

* * *

By early afternoon Allena's arms were hurting badly again, and she was regretting skipping breakfast. She'd heard Webber arrive and ask why he couldn't go in the base – Warly had just barely caught him – and Warly had fed him a line about lots of delicate parts that were arranged in certain orders and couldn't be disturbed. Wilson's orders.

She wanted to see Webber, but she could understand why they didn't want him seeing her. Still, she wanted to make sure he was alright. When Warly popped in a while later and she told him this, he waved a hand airily and said, "Do not worry about him. He's been fine. He doesn't seem to understand the concept of death as it relates to someone he cares about. He just kept asking us when you'd be back. We've stopped trying to explain it to him."

Well, that was equal parts depressing and relieving. The imagine of Webber wandering around asking, "When is Allena coming home?" Kept popping into her head, making her want to cry, but at least in this case she actually _was_ coming home. In fact, she was already here. Webber just didn't know it yet.

Everyone had been coming in and out of the base all day. They always paused to ask how she was and if she needed anything…except for Wilson. He behaved like she didn't even exist.

She was getting by by telling herself that this behavior would only last so long. They couldn't stay suspicious of her forever. As much as Wilson's…problems…with her hurt, they were temporary. They would recover from this.

That said, she wasn't sure her arms would. They felt like they were on the brink of falling off, and when she'd asked to be able to move her arms the last five times she'd been told that they would take the ropes off at dinnertime.

Breakfast and dinner. At least Krampus had usually let her out three times a day.

Thinking of Krampus made her think of Wortox. She really wished he would show up. She would honestly accept his help getting out of these ropes in a heartbeat, however the others felt about it. She remembered, with some pain, the last meal she'd had with the others as a group – when they'd all sat around the fire chanting, "Wortox! Wortox! Wortox!" in the hope that it might summon him.

"Wortox, Wortox, Wortox," she mumbled under her breath. "Wortox, Wortox, Wortox."

The others had at least been kind enough to set up a sleeping bag so she could lie down and nap rather than sit on a hard log all day. She had to lie face down, otherwise it would be even worse on her arms, but at least she was horizontal.

She thought she may have dozed off mumbling Wortox's name, because a while later her eyes snapped open as she was hit with a sense of being watched.

She got up and looked around the base, but no one had come in. From the sound of it, they were all still working on the machine. Who…?

Then she saw the shadow on the ground – a form was crouched on the wall of the base. A form with two curling horns on its head.

She turned around and almost smiled as she saw Wortox staring down at her with his wide white eyes. She _almost_ smiled. But if all the others were suspicious of her over what had happened, how much more so would Wortox be? He could smell debts and dark magic like she could smell bacon frying on the stove. He would know that something wasn't right with her.

Wortox's expression was difficult to decipher. His head was slightly tilted, as if in confusion, but at least he didn't look hostile. She opened her mouth to greet him but he leaped from the wall and landed right in front of her, making her hop back.

"Woah!" She said. "Hey, Wortox. Uh…I'm back. Good to see you."

He didn't say anything. He just stuck his nose in her face and started sniffing.

Well, there went the hope of him letting her out. No way would he trust her after all he was undoubtedly smelling on her.

He ran his nose up and down and all around her, like a dog greeting a new friend. She started chatting halfheartedly. "The others said you took off right after the Dragonfly thing. Have you been alright? I've been better, myself, but at least I'm alive again. And free. Kind of free, I mean. The others are kind of keeping me tied up. I guess you can figure why—"

Wortox stopped sniffing. "Figure why?" He asked. "Figure why? You are back with us, alive and well. I do not know how, but I hope you will tell. As to why they have you tied up – I do not know."

"You don't know?" She asked in mild disbelief. "But you can smell dark magic and stuff, right? Aren't you suspicious at all? You know I'm not…"

She trailed off. What, exactly, was she 'not'?

Wortox scratched his head. "I know you have made more bargains, and I certainly smell a nasty spell upon you, but why is this reason to tie you up?"

She looked down and away as she said, "The others think I've sold myself out to Maxwell. They think I might have been sent back to hurt them."

Wortox's nose twitched, and he bleated sharply. _"That_ is the reason why you are bound?! I have never heard reasoning so unsound! Come, let me get you out of those ropes!"

She let him untie her, but she was still confused as to why he wasn't suspicious at all. "Why do you assume I'm not dangerous? You can smell the dark magic on me. Don't you think I might be a threat?"

"I can smell many things on you," he said as his nimble fingers worked at the knots. "Magic and new bargains, yes; but beneath it all, you are still Allena. If you had been altered so greatly that you would betray those you love, you would not smell like yourself at all."

The ropes fell away and, with a groan of relief, she let her arms swing back to her sides. "Thank you. That was really starting to hurt."

She heard someone approaching, and her heartrate shot up. She really hoped it wasn't Wolfgang.

She decided the best thing to do would be to sit down and not look threatening. She took to her sleeping bag again and began rubbing the blood back into her hands. They weren't purple this time, but they sure weren't entirely pink either.

Oh, good. It was Winona. She did a double-take when she saw Wortox, who gave her a wave and a small smile, but when she saw Allena she scowled. "Oi! What do you think you're doing?"

"Sitting on my sleeping bag, talking to Wortox. What are you doing?"

Winona splayed her hands out in a 'seriously?' gesture. "You're supposed to be tied up. Eh, Wortox, it's good to see you, but did you let her go?"

"Yes," he replied, and crossed his arms. "And I will not see her tied up again. Why do you treat her so? Are you not happy to see her returned?"

Allena watched as Winona's features morphed into guilt. "Of course I am. It's not that, it's just…look, we don't know what happened to her down there, and she's been saying some awfully funny stuff. We just don't know if we can trust her."

Wortox sat down next to Allena and began picking at his claws. "How easily mortal trust is broken. And after she gave her life to save all of yours! A cruel way to welcome her back."

He sounded like a schoolmarm chastising an ill-behaved student, and Winona's face scrunched up in a very un-Winona-like cringe. "I know, I know, it's just…"

Wortox snorted. "She is still the Allena you knew and loved. I can smell that much on her. A bit more cursed, perhaps, and I sense she's incurred even more debt than the last, but she is very much still herself."

Winona frowned, but there was another expression there. Something like...relief? "What do you mean by cursed? What's wrong with her?"

Allena bit her lip. Now that she knew the others didn't trust her, she was having second thoughts about telling them about even the real deal she'd made with Maxwell – about how if she tried to leave without him, he would kill her. They would just assume she was trying to manipulate them into not completing the Gateway.

Damn. Well, she figured odds were better than not the Gateway would fail anyways. She would just wait and see what happened, and if they really got it working…

Well, she'd cross that bridge when she got to it. Or, to be more precise, she wouldn't.

"It's complicated," she explained carefully. "Basically, the curse just makes it more difficult for me to avoid paying up on my latest bargain. He doesn't want to spend another few months sending debt collectors after me. It'll just make it easier for him to get me back down there if I screw up."

It occurred to her that she had used a lot of words to relay relatively little information – a textbook sign of lying. Winona picked up on that, and her eyes narrowed.

Then Wortox – bless his soul – hopped in to cover for her. "Yes, I can sense that the curse forges a connection between you and Maxwell. Am I wrong in thinking that, should he grow irate with you, it will weaken you to some degree?"

Did having your beating heart explode in your chest constitute weakening? Technically, yes. "Yeah. That's it in a nutshell."

Winona seemed to relax. A bit of understanding flashed in her eyes, and her expression softened. "Okay, I get it. We'll talk about the deal you made later. For now, I guess you can just hang out."

Oh, thank goodness. She wasn't going back in the ropes. "Alright. I'll stick to the base so you can keep an eye on me. I can do tools or weave rope or something until dinner tonight. But does this mean I can see Webber?"

Winona rolled her head along her neck thoughtfully. "I think so, but let me check with Wilson. He's really been lookin' after Webber these last few days. Been into taking care of the kid. Oh, and yes please on the ropes. We need more of 'em."

Allena's eyebrows popped up. Wilson had taken on parenting Webber? "Wow, that's really good to hear. Alright, just let me know when I can see him."

The thought of Wilson still made her miserable. When was he going to get over this whole thing?

Her thoughts must have shown in her face because Winona said, "Hey, buck up. Wilson's just upset about the whole 'Maxwell knows about the Gateway' thing. I've been talking to him, though. What can Maxwell really do, eh? We've beaten everything he's thrown at us. And he just did the Dragonfly. He can't possibly have another monster like that up his sleeve already."

At this, Wortox perked up and said, "Oh, definitely not! He won't be making any more big monsters any time soon, I promise you!"

They both looked at him as he said this. He sounded a bit too confident. "Yeah?" Allena asked. "What makes you say that?"

Wortox's ears dropped down and pressed against the side of his head, and he started twiddling his thumbs. "Oh, no reason…"

Well, that definitely had something to do with his belief that he'd been the cause of the Dragonfly attack; but whatever the problem was, it could wait until later. "Okay, well, we can go over everything we know at dinner tonight, okay?" Wortox looked relieved at this. "Until then, maybe you can just hang out here?"

It occurred to her that Wortox may have been hungry. He'd certainly looked starved for souls before the Dragonfly fight. "Or maybe you could go hunt some spiders or something? If you're hungry?"

At this, Wortox perked up even further. "Oh, yes. I am still a bit peckish. Perhaps I will go grab a bite to eat."

Winona nodded. "Yeah, alright. Those spiders have actually been getting kinda uppity the last few days. A good culling is probably what they need. Oh, and bring back the glands and silk if you can, hey?"

Wortox's nose twitched. "Hey!" He replied brightly, and took to his feet. He jumped up onto the wall of the base, gave Allena a wave goodbye, and took off towards the Northwood.

Once he was gone, Winona looked back at her. Then she frowned down at the ropes on the ground.

Before she could say a word, Allena snapped, "I'm not putting those things back on. My arms are about to fall off as it is. Have you ever had your hands tied behind your back for almost twelve solid hours? It HURTS."

Winona clicked her tongue. "Yeah, okay, okay, don't get your knickers in a twist. Just stay where we can keep track of ya, okay?"

"No problem. I'll even get an escort to take me potty, if you want. Just be sure to tell Wolfgang not to stab me, okay?"

At this, Winona laughed. As soon as Allena heard that sound, a small knot of tension inside her relaxed. That was a really good sound to hear. "Yeah, will do," Winona replied. "In fact, I'll do that first. Then I'll talk to Wilson about Webber and get back to you, okay?"

Allena nodded gratefully. "Okay. Thank you."

Winona turned to go. Before she left, though, she turned back and said, "Hey, Allena – it's really great to have you back."

Allena didn't reply. She just nodded. It was really great to _be_ back.


	51. Fears Allayed

After a while, Webber came ripping into the base squealing like nails on a chalkboard. He rounded the corner and almost bashed straight into a wall before spotting Allena and righting himself.

Allena had been weaving ropes. She now set these aside, grinned, and stood up. "Hey, Webber. Guess who's back?"

His face split into the widest smile she'd ever seen. He ran at her yelping, "Allena! Allena is back! We missed Allena so much!"

He tackled her in a hug, all four of his face legs wrapping around her as well, and she hugged him back with equal enthusiasm. "I missed you too, Webber. Hey, I hear Wilson's been taking pretty good care of you, yeah?"

Webber nodded, not quite letting go of her. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! Been very nice, even gave Webber a hug! Kept trying to tell me you weren't coming back, though. Shows what big silly scientist knows! You were only gone four days!"

Four days? Looked like she'd been unconscious in the Epilogue longer than she'd thought. He let go of her and stepped back, but he was still bouncing on the balls of his feet and his extra legs were twitching madly in excitement. "Where did Allena go? Was it fun? Did you bring back a souvenir for us?"

"No souvenir, I'm afraid," she said. "And it was certainly interesting. I'll tell you guys all about it tonight. Now, are you busy, or would you like to help me weave some rope?"

Webber whined, "Where did Allena go? Wanna hear about it _now!"_

She wagged her finger at him chastisingly. "No whining. You can wait until tonight, just like everyone else. Besides, we need more rope for the Gateway. And you're really good at weaving. What do you say we work for a couple hours, then we can all enjoy a nice dinner and some good stories, okay?"

Webber wasn't entirely happy about it, but he relented. "Okee. Can we sit next to Allena, though?"

"Yeah, of course. Here's some grass. Let's see if we can't get a few yard-length ropes done before dinner."

Allena had assumed that when Webber asked her if he could sit next to her, he'd just meant to weave the ropes. But by the time they went to dinner that night, he'd hardly left her side at all, and he plonked down right next to her when she went to sit down by the fire.

Wilson still wasn't looking at her, and Wolfgang had insisted upon escorting her to the base, spear still in hand, but at least she wasn't tied up anymore. What's more, Warly and Winona both seemed pretty warm towards her.

Wortox had stuffed himself on spider souls, so when he came to dinner it was only for the stories. The rest of them sat down to enjoy a delectable stew Warly had made for them – beefalo and vegetable, with buttered bread on the side. Smelling it had really cheered Allena up. Warly knew it was her favorite dish of his.

Now, stew in hand and Webber to her right – where Wilson usually sat – she settled down for her first dinner back with the crew.

Wolfgang had moved all of their chairs back over for the occasion, including hers, though Allena was still sitting on the log so Webber could be right at her side. He was just about as happy as could be, and as they all tucked in she could feel his little head-legs occasionally reaching over and poking her, as though to affirm that she was still there.

"So," Warly began. "It seems the gang is back together again. We even have our good friend Wortox here with us tonight."

Wilson nodded, brow furrowed. "I would have liked to start out with Allena's tale, as it is most relevant to our current situation. But as our impish friend is the only one not taking a meal tonight, and no doubt everyone else would like a chance to eat before jumping into story-telling, perhaps he could start off by telling us what he knows about Maxwell and his creations?"

Wortox didn't look overly happy, but he nodded sullenly. "Yes. I suppose so." He was sitting cross-legged, and he began picking dirt out of his hooves as he talked – something Allena knew he only did when he was upset or anxious. "You are all aware that, ever since I gobbled up Krampus, I have had to eat souls to stay healthy and full, yes?"

There were nods and uncomfortable looks all around. Pretty much everyone still found that creepy, including Allena, but she wasn't about to judge. So long as he wasn't hurting anyone - other than the things whose souls he was eating, obviously - she didn't see that him eating souls was any worse than them eating meat.

"Well," Wortox continued. "I also found that I can use them for things other than eating. For instance – Hopping!"

He stood up and pulled something out of his pocket. Everyone peered at it. It was a sort of swirling red ball of smoke. Wes, who was sitting next to Wortox, leaned away from it with a wary look, but Allena, at least, recognized it for what it was. She'd seen it before, when Wortox's curse had manifested. It was a soul.

The soul glowed brightly for a moment, and with a light _pop!_ Wortox was gone.

Everyone gasped. Wes stared at the spot Wortox had just vacated with an expression of total shock.

"Wortox?" Allena called in mild alarm.

"Over here!" Wortox called back. It sounded like he was just outside the base, and sure enough he came bounding over the wall a moment later, back into his seat. "Here one moment, gone the next! This is just one thing I can do with a soul."

Wes silently clapped his hands, impressed, and Winona whistled. "That's pretty neat, bud. What's it got to do with the Dragonfly?"

Wortox wrapped his tail around him and started grooming the tuft of fur at its end. "About three weeks ago I sensed some power being amassed down below, where Maxwell crafts his spells and beasties."

At this, everyone's attention sharpened. Wilson seemed particularly interested. "Maxwell has some sort of monstrous workshop? Where? In the caves?"

Wortox shook his head. "No. Lower, lower, very low. Far below the caverns beneath your feet." Wortox scratched a clod of dirt out of his tail and shook it out before continuing. "I wanted to see what he was working on. I wanted to be able to warn you of it, to give you time to prepare, if need be. The hound mound so took you by surprise, I just thought…"

Allena asked, "Is that what you meant when you said you were just trying to help?"

Wortox nodded, neck still craned downward. She got the feeling she knew what was coming next, but she stayed silent and let him talk.

"With only one soul, I cannot Hop very far. But I thought that with more, I could go wherever I desired! I gathered ten souls and smashed them together into one big soul-lump. Then I gathered ten more, and did the same again. I thought I might use ten to Hop to Maxwell's lab, and ten to Hop back."

Wilson said, "I suppose that makes sense. So you created these two…soul amalgamations. Did they work?"

Wortox said quietly, "One of them did."

That didn't sound good. "And the other one?" Allena asked.

He looked around the circle of faces beseechingly, as though begging them to understand. "Please, I did not mean for it to happen; but when I arrived, I was taken by surprise! Maxwell's Shadow overcame me. It took the other soul."

Wilson's eye twitched. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

Wortox was now wringing his hands – an endeavor made a bit tricky due to his long, curling claws. "The other soul. The Shadow took it. They use souls to power their creations. Maxwell shapes them, the Shadow empowers them. There is no shortage of souls, but the larger the construct, the more it requires. Most souls are incompatible with each other, and you cannot stuff such souls together in a single body. The results are…messy."

Wilson looked like he wanted to interrupt again, but Winona leaned forward and said, "Lemme guess. He took your big ol' whopper of a soul and used it to power the Dragonfly."

Wortox's ears drooped, followed by his entire head, and his shoulders. "Yes," he mumbled. "The Shadow overpowered me. It took the meta-soul and chained me up. By the time I broke loose, in answer to your calls, it was too late. The Dragonfly was done."

Wes's face screwed up with pity, and he patted Wortox on the back. Wolfgang, however, seemed to totally bypass the origin of the Dragonfly and instead said, "Wait, you are saying that our little Wortox chanty-chant worked?"

Wortox could not reply to either response before Wilson burst out, "Stop! Will you please explain what you mean by 'the Shadow overpowered you'? Would you please explain why you keep talking as though there are _two beings_ at play here?"

Wortox looked up, nose twitching, and Wes withdrew his hand. "You do not know of the Shadow? Has Allena not informed you of it?"

Winona, who had just finished her stew, set her bowl down. "Uh, she mighta mentioned something about a Shadow. But it seemed kinda far-fetched."

Wortox _tsk'd._ "You would do well to have more trust in your friend. For this world's most recent addition, she knows far more about its true nature than any of you."

Wes crossed his arms and nodded, then wagged his finger at Wolfgang, who looked a bit sheepish. Wilson looked fairly indignant at Wortox's reprimand, but Winona stepped on his foot before he could say anything. "Okay," she said. "Well, why don't you tell us about this Shadow, then Allena can tell us her story."

Wortox nodded. "Very well. This world is governed by a being far more powerful than Maxwell. It is a demon of sorts – soulless and foul. If it is true to the nature of demons as I know them, then its singular purpose is to cause suffering. This is, as you humans say, its 'bread and butter'."

"So, what, it feeds off of human suffering?" Allena asked.

"Quite," Wortox said. "Or at least the suffering of anything with a proper soul and mind. It is likely that this being is responsible for the destruction of this planet's native inhabitants."

Wilson raised a finger. "Wait. Are you telling me that this world was once peopled, and that this Shadow caused that people's extinction?"

"I do not know if they are extinct, but I have certainly never seen one. But the extinction of an entire race is certainly within the capability of a powerful demon, yes."

There were uneasy looks all around. An entire sentient race, destroyed.

Winona swallowed heavily. "Uh, is there any chance that this thing could do the same thing to our world?"

Wortox shook his head. "Likely not. A demon cannot travel as freely as you or I. It would need to be summoned into your world, and that would be quite a feat."

"Why?" Wilson asked. "What is to prevent someone on Earth summoning that thing and letting it loose on humanity?"

Wortox, who seemed quite confident with the topic, answered, "In order to pass from this world to yours, someone would need to open a door. When the demon was small and weak, as it likely was before coming to this world, it would have required a small door, and consequently little power to open it. But now that it has devoured an entire world…"

"Is too fat," Wolfgang said in dawning comprehension. "Demon is too fat to get into our world."

Wortox twitched an ear in Wolfgang's direction. "Quite. It would take astronomical power to bring it to Earth. But," he continued. "It still requires suffering to nourish it. It still requires people. Since it cannot go to humanity, it seems to have taken to transporting humanity to it."

Wilson's eyes widened in understanding. "That…that is why we were brought here? That is why we are living in this world? To suffer for a demon's nourishment?"

Wortox nodded cheerfully. "Yes! You are catching on!"

There seemed to be mixed reactions to this. Some of them looked relieved to at least know what was going on, while others looked revolted or depressed.

Webber, however, looked downright smug. "Ha! Well, nasty demon isn't getting anything from Webber! I am not suffering! I have friends and family. I am happy!"

"Atta kid," Winona said, reaching over to pat him on the back.

Warly said, "Here, here," and raised his cup.

Wortox looked worried, though. "Yes. Many of you are happy. But that…is not good."

"Huh?" Winona said. "How is it not good that we're happy?"

"Because," Allena said with a sinking feeling. "If we're happy, we're not suffering. If we're not suffering, we're not feeding it. If we're not feeding it…"

"It will come for us," Wilson concluded grimly.

Wortox sighed. "Yes. That is likely. Now, is there anything else you want to know about the Shadow?"

Winona spat a loogy into the fire. It hissed unpleasantly, and she asked, "Allena said that thing was controlling Maxwell. That true?"

"Yes, I believe so. It uses his form, it possesses him, and if I am not mistaken, it does this against his will, to some degree."

Wilson narrowed his eyes, then frowned. He looked down as his stew with a fretful furrow in his brow, then said, "Very well. Allena, would you care to recount your story?"

His voice was lacking the simmering hostility it had had all day, and Allena looked at him closely. Was it possible he was relenting on his suspicions?

She sure hoped so. Only time would tell, though. Time…and her story.

"Yeah," she said, setting the last few bites of her stew aside. "No problem."

Before she could begin, though, there was a minor commotion. Night had only just fallen properly, and with it came yet another guest.

Everyone paused to watch as their pale, ghostly friend floated serenely into camp. She paused at the entrance to the base and looked over at them, as though waiting to be sure that she was indeed invited, but when she saw Allena sitting there she darted right over and began inspecting her closely.

Allena stood up. "Oh, hey. Good to see you again."

The ghost had a very odd expression on its face – almost offended. Wilson said, "Ah, yes. We mentioned your passing to her the last time she dropped by." He addressed the spirit directly. "As you can see, ma'am, Allena has returned to us. She was just about to recount her situation from the beginning. Perhaps you'd care to join us for the tale?"

The ghost quivered, then mellowed with a curious expression. She nodded.

Before she could settle herself, however, Wortox bounced up and stuck his face right in hers. "What is this?" He said, voice rife with intrigue.

The ghost leaned back, looking irritated at the intrusion into her personal space, but Wortox pressed forward again, sniffing loudly.

It occurred to Allena that ghosts were basically just floating souls, and she panicked a bit. "Ack! Wortox, don't eat her!"

Wortox leaned back. "Oh, I would never! That would be quite discourteous, as well as foolish on my part. I have never seen anything quite like you!"

The spirit glared at him defiantly, as though demanding that he explain. Wortox did. "It is simply that normally, a soul fragments when its owner dies, leaving behind only traces in the mortal realm, unless a bargain has been made to keep the soul bound somewhere – as occurred with Allena, her soul having been bound to her body. But your soul seems to have remained whole and untarnished, sans any such deal!"

Allena thought that was pretty interesting. "Is that why she's still around? Because her soul didn't fragment?"

"Yes," Wortox said. He sounded like he was pondering something. "I wonder…"

He and the spirit gazed at each other for a long, quiet minute. Then, Wortox's ears twitched. "Ah, forgive me for my rudeness, good spirit! You simply caught me quite off-guard. I am Wortox, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance." He bowed deeply.

The spirit still looked a bit ruffled, but seemed to nod in acceptance of his apology. Then she turned to Allena and nodded to her as well. Translation: _please, go ahead._

Allena turned her attention back to the story as the spirit took up her normal place around the campfire – directly opposite of wherever Wolfgang was sitting.

She considered how best to start. Frankly, it was still a bit fuzzy to her. She could just start with where she woke up. But then again, perhaps she should start with the dream she'd had the prior month, in which she'd first been introduced to the mansion.

Then she saw Wes waving at her, and once her attention was on him he mimed out writing on a piece of paper, shaking hands, then gave her a 'go on,' gesture.

Oh. Right. The bargain. "Oh, jeez. I…have something to tell all of you."

"Is it about how you made a deal with Maxwell to trade your eternal servitude for triage after a hound attack?" Winona offered.

Allena covered her face with her hands. "Did Maxwell…?"

"Yes," Everyone said.

Well, at least they'd had time to process it. "Yeah, it was after the first hound attack with Wilson. I was pretty badly hurt. Actually, I think I may have died."

Wilson nodded without looking at her. "Yes, he said that was what happened."

Her heart clenched at the pain in his voice. She wanted to reach out, to assure him that it wasn't his fault, but she forced herself to go on with the story.

"Well, Maxwell offered to heal me. To bring me back to life, and in exchange I would have to stay with him the next time I died." She paused, then said, "Well, actually, the first deal he suggested was that he would heal me in exchange for permission to kill…one of his other prisoners."

She'd hoped to skip over this without any more details, but three people immediately asked, "Who?"

She bit her lip. "Uh, I'm pretty sure it was Wolfgang."

Wolfgang _hrmph'd._ "Eh? Maxwell is wanting Wolfgang dead, too?"

The spirit eyed him interestedly, and Wolfgang shivered. Allena nodded, but before she could move on, Warly said, "Wait, you could have traded Wolfgang's life for your own – a total stranger to you at the time, I believe – and you did not?"

"Of course not," Allena said, shifting in her seat. "I didn't have the right to trade anyone's life for mine. I'm not a monster. But back to the other deal," she rushed on as the spirit gave her an appraising look. "I didn't want to risk being enslaved to Maxwell, but I thought that if we could escape before I died, he wouldn't be able to make me pay up."

Wortox bleated, "You made a promise you never intended to keep?! For shame!"

Allena blushed, but said, "Oh, come on! It was a demon! Is it really wrong to lie to a demon?"

Wortox gave her a piercing look. "Did you know it was a demon at the time you made the pact?"

Allena looked down, embarrassed. "No."

Wortox let out a long breath through his nose, and it puffed warmly against her. "Were it only the Shadow, I'd have no complaints," he said. "Demons are oathbreakers, through and through. But the oath wasn't just 'twixt the demon and you. What of Maxwell? An unpleasant man, but a man, nonetheless. And terribly lonely, I expect. A promise made to _him_ must be kept."

She bit her lip. She'd been trying to justify how easily she'd justified dismissing his claim on her, but Wortox had a point. She'd never had any respect for people who broke their promises, but she would have broken that one without a moment's hesitation had she been given the chance.

…But she hadn't. "Well, there isn't much point going over it now. I promised that the next time I died, I would belong to him. I died. He collected. Or, rather…the Shadow did."

She pushed a strand of hair out of her face and went on. "A while back I had a dream where I found myself in this great, dark wasteland with nothing around for miles but a giant mansion. In that mansion was Maxwell. But it wasn't Maxwell."

"The Shadow," Wilson interjected.

"The Shadow," she confirmed. "When I called it out for what it was, it wasn't happy. It told me that it was angry at me for showing Maxwell the picture of Charlie. It didn't want him knowing she was alive, for some reason. It…"

She thought back on exactly what it had said, but there was no way she could talk about that. "…it was pretty angry," she finished. "It showed me the mansion to remind me of the promise. You see, Maxwell had built that mansion for me, as a place I could live the next time I died. That was where I woke up after the Dragonfly attack."

Winona asked, "He built you an entire mansion?"

"Yeah," Allena said. "Apparently he can basically make whatever he wants in the Constant, with the Shadow's power. He made this mansion, and let me tell you, it was actually pretty amazing. I didn't see a ton of it, I was too busy trying to get out, but there was a room that was nothing but a jungle, and another that was like a superstore filled with every kind of tool and material you could hope for, and one was just a big ol' room full of puppies—"

"Puppies?!" Wilson and Webber both blurted out. Wilson sounded disbelieving and perhaps a trifle disgusted. Webber sounded delighted.

"Puppies," Allena confirmed. "And kitties. According to the Shadow, he didn't know what I would like, so he made just about everything. I mean, most of the floors had at least four rooms, and I don't even know how many floors there were. I started on the sixth or seventh floor, but there were stairs going up."

Wes cocked his head, and Warly looked intrigued. "Wait, you are telling me that he made this mansion to please you? To make you happy?"

She nodded uncomfortably. "Yeah, I guess so."

"But why?" Wilson asked, almost angrily. "What would that monster care for your comfort?"

Allena shrugged and said, "I don't think Maxwell ever wanted me to suffer. The Shadow did, and he was usually under its influence, but Maxwell…"

She shook her head. "Never mind. I'll get to that. So when I woke up it was to the Shadow. I asked it where Maxwell was, but it just told me he wasn't there. I'd seen the outside when I'd gone there in my dream, and, don't ask me why, I kind of got the idea that Maxwell – the real Maxwell – was out there in the darkness somewhere. So I ran from the Shadow and made for the ground floor."

"Oooh, bet it wasn't happy about that," Winona remarked.

Allena clicked her tongue. "At first it didn't really care. It didn't seem to think I was a threat. It just sent some of its minions after me and kept an eye on me as I ran. Oh. Before I go on, has anyone here not seen those crazy shadow monsters than show up when you start to go insane?"

To Allena's surprise, everyone shuddered – even Webber and the spirit. "Icky crawlies," he said.

Winona looked pale. "Yup. Seen 'em. Don't care for 'em."

"Wolfgang did not like scary shadow monsters! Wes scared them away, though."

Wes tapped on his head and pointed at Wolfgang, then leaned over and hugged the man's big, burly arm. Looked like they had scared off each other's shadows.

Warly said, "Mine looked like sea serpents. Or, as the legend goes, the Loch Ness monster."

Wilson did not say anything, but she knew he'd seen a few. She'd never asked him about the time he'd driven himself insane to hunt them, and honestly she still didn't want to.

Only Wortox didn't look disturbed. "They dwell in a plane apart from ours. Only the power of our own perception can bring them close enough to do us harm."

Allena snorted. "Tell that to the Shadow. After I grabbed this sword in the…"

She trailed off. Holy crap, she'd forgotten all about that. "Hey, where is my backpack? Can I have that?"

Wes jumped up and went off to fetch it. He brought it back to her and she rummaged inside for a moment. Good, her pomegranates were still fresh!

And also…

She pulled out the sword. "I found this in one of the rooms. I used it on a shadow-monster, and it killed it in one blow."

Wilson ogled the blade. _"What?_ The shadows I fought were twice as tough as the average hound. It took everything I had to kill just a handful, one at a time. You say you killed one _in_ _a single blow?"_

"It was a lucky hit," she said hastily. "But back to what Wortox was saying, I wasn't insane at the time. The Shadow just conjured them and sent them right after me. Then, after I got the sword, it got…pissed."

"Pissed?" Winona said curiously. "How pissed we talkin'?"

"Pissed enough to, I don't know, split the world into two dimensions or something?"

Wortox's eyes widened. "Come again?"

This whole part still gave her a headache to think about, but she gave it a shot. "I don't know. It was weird. One moment everything was normal. The next moment, the whole world went grey, with these red veins of light crawling up the walls. I got to the entrance hall, and while I was standing there it was like the world kept flickering back and forth between the normal world and the crazy world."

She saw with some disquiet that Wortox's fur was bristling like a spooked cat. "I don't know how to describe it except that it was a bit like having double-vision. It was freaky, because the two worlds were a little bit different. In the crazy world, the Shadow had a sort of shadow itself. Something huge and hulking. I don't know what."

Wortox sucked in a sharp breath. "You glimpsed its true form. That is quite rare."

"Why?" Wilson asked curiously.

"Demons do not like their true forms seen," he said nervously. "To slay a demon in its true form is the only way to kill it, truly."

Allena waved her hand dismissively. "Well, we aren't killing this thing. It was at least as big as the Deerclops, and it has some nasty tricks up its sleeves. But that's not important. What matters is how I got away."

Webber's head legs prodded her. "Oh, yes! How did you get away from scary shadow-monsters?"

"Well, in the crazy world there was no way out. But when I was seeing the real world, I saw a door against the back wall that wasn't there in the crazy world. I forced myself back into the real world and ran for the door."

Wortox looked impressed. "Oh, my. You were able to wrench yourself from a dimensional shift? That is quite a feat of will!"

"What was behind the door?" Wilson asked impatiently, clearly not willing to let Wortox go off explaining the nature of dimensional shifts.

"Charlie," Allena said.

At once, Winona's eyes widened. She leaned forward and said, "What?! My sister?"

Allena nodded. "Yeah. It was her, but it wasn't the shadow-Charlie we know. I mean, I don't know what your sister is normally like, but this Charlie seemed pretty…normal."

Winona was lightly snapping her fingers. "What was she like? What did she say? Is she okay?"

"She was nice. She didn't say anything. She was trapped in this weird light-box thing, and I couldn't hear her. She was totally okay, though. I guess she's just been sleeping all this time."

Winona looked a bit disappointed. "You couldn't talk to her?"

"It's not that," Allena said. "She could hear me, I just couldn't hear her. I talked to her the same way we talked to our friend here," she said while nodding to the spirit. "Yes or no questions. She could at least mime stuff to me. Basically, I got that she was trapped in there. She wasn't in any trouble or anything, she's just been sleeping since she arrived in the Constant. Also, she was really excited when I told her you were here, Winona, and I promised we would come back and help her." Then, in a very quiet voice she added, "Oh, and, uh…that I would…help Maxwell…if I could…"

Wilson's eye twitched. "Come again?"

"Uh, that I would…help Maxwell…if I could?" She repeated a bit more loudly.

She hunched her shoulders against the blowback she was sure she was about to get, but everyone just looked at her questioningly.

Winona groaned. "Ugh. I guess she asked you about him? I know she was pretty crazy about him; but seriously, didn't you tell her he was a sick, evil, twisted psychopath?"

Allena started twisting a lock of her hair in her hand. "I couldn't! The way she looked when I told her he was there too, when I told her he was in trouble…I couldn't just tell her he was a monster!"

"Why not?!" Wilson exclaimed.

"Well, I think she's kind of in love with him," she said meekly.

Wilson's face turned red. He looked like he was about to say more, but he just gaped like a fish out of water. Finally he folded his arms and withheld his complaint. "Fine then. You promised to try and help Maxwell. Continue?"

"Well, after that I made it out of the mansion. I'd grabbed a ton of torches from the storeroom, so I was able to keep myself out of the dark long enough to find Maxwell. And guys, he is not what you think he is."

Wolfgang snorted. "Oh, do not tell Wolfgang he is some poor, tortured soul who is so very sorry for killing many people and trapping us all here!"

Allena replied, "Oh, hell no, he didn't apologize at all."

There were scowls all around at that, but Allena went on. "But really, he's not the monster he seems like when he visits us. You see, when we see him, we're only seeing a projection of him. His real body is in that place, a place he calls 'The Epilogue'."

Wilson snapped his fingers. "He once mentioned that place to me. He said, 'I'm half tempted to invite you to the Epilogue…but what's the use of losing my favorite guest to a silly game?' I had no idea what he was talking about."

"The Epilogue is where his physical body is," Allena said. "It's where he's trapped. He's completely bound to this shadowy throne, and the only way he can 'leave' it is by projecting his consciousness somewhere else. But he can only do that with the Shadow's help, I think, and whenever he's using the Shadow's power, it influences him."

Wortox jumped in. "Oh, yes! I believe I saw this, once. Maxwell arrived after visiting you here, in the overworld. The Shadow's presence departed, and once it was gone the man seemed quite drained. Pained. He didn't look happy, at any rate."

Wilson hummed. "Very well. Maxwell, like us, is trapped in a miserable hell-hole. Boo-hoo for him. How did you convince him to let you return to us?"

This was where it got tricky. They suspected her, to some degree, of teaming up with Maxwell. Here was the part where she told them she actually _was_ teaming up with Maxwell.

She took a deep breath and said, "I made a deal with him. In exchange for letting me come back and help finish the Gateway, I have to do three things for him."

"Three?" Wolfgang asked. "What are three things?"

"First," Allena said, putting three fingers up and lowering one as she spoke, "Free Charlie and get her to safety."

Winona laughed at this, but it wasn't a happy laugh. It was a bitter, satirical laugh. "Oh, you're telling me he wants to help my sister? Bull…"

She looked at Webber, who was still sitting quite happily next to Allena, listening intently to everything that was being said, and Winona continued, "Uh, well, bull. He's the reason she's here in the first place!"

"I won't contest that," Allena said calmingly. "But you've got to know – the first time I showed him her picture, he actually got into a fight with the Shadow. He'd believed she was dead all that time, and he seemed livid when he found out the Shadow had lied to him. When I told him that Charlie was okay, and that she wanted me to help him, he was as off-guard as I've ever seen him. Helping her was the first thing he asked me to do. The second was, obviously, help him."

She saw a few clenched jaws at this. "Look, I'm sorry, but I promised I would do what I could to help him. He's been stuck down there for decades at least. He wants out, and he won't take 'no' for an answer."

Wilson shrugged callously. "Well, we'll do what we can to save Charlie. But Maxwell can burn in hell."

Wes looked at her with wide eyes, and held up three fingers, lowering them one at a time.

_What was the third condition?_

She answered without bothering to voice his question to the others. "The third condition is that if I fail at either of the other two conditions, I have to stay here."

Wilson didn't look too impressed. "Bah. He's exhausted all of his ploys. I'd like to see him try to keep you from leaving once we have the Gateway up and running."

Winona already knew what the problem there was, though. "That's where the curse comes in, isn't it?"

Wilson's brow creased in confusion. "Curse? Come again?"

Allena sighed and pulled the purple gemmed necklace out of her shirt. "He gave me this necklace to make sure I don't try to double-cross him. It'll weaken me if I try to leave."

At this, Winona said, "I've said it once tonight, I'll say it again. Bull. We know you, Allena. We know you always tone down the bad stuff. That thing will kill you if you try to leave without him, won't it?"

She opened her mouth to deny the charge, but the hesitation she gave while trying to find the words was more than enough for them.

Everyone looked a bit sick. Except for Wilson. He just looked thunderous. He got up, came over, and knelt down beside her. She tensed, but didn't move away.

"If this is keeping you from leaving here…" He reached out and took the necklace in his hand.

His eyes narrowed. "Then it needs to go."

He fisted his hand, tensed, and before Allena could react he tugged as hard as he could, and—

Violet light; a yelp of surprise from Wilson; and pain. Blinding pain.

She wasn't sure how long she was incoherent, but the next thing she knew she was lying on her back with her legs over the log, as though she'd fallen straight back. Webber was crying, and Winona was leaning over her saying, "—okay? Allena, hey! Are you okay?"

"Uh…huh," she groaned groggily. Everything was hazy, and it felt like she'd just been tazed in every part of her body simultaneously. The spirit was looking down at her, clear concern present in its eyes. Then it whirled around and glared at Wilson.

Wilson was sitting a couple feet away looking horrified. He was also smoldering slightly. She looked at Winona questioningly, and she rolled her eyes and said, "When that blast of light went off he screamed like a five-year-old and fell into the firepit."

Wolfgang, who had just come up behind Winona, chuckled. "Was very funny to watch. Eh, but is not funny that Allena is hurt. You are okay, ya?"

She nodded, but still didn't sit up. So that was what Maxwell had meant when he'd said she'd get an unpleasant surprise if she tried taking the necklace off.

It took about ten minutes for her to recovery fully. "Ugh. Let's not try that again, okay?"

Wilson winced and nodded. "Yes, of course. My apologies. So if we fail to rescue Maxwell and Charlie, we risk losing you. Is that correct?"

"If _I_ fail to rescue Maxwell, yeah. I'm not putting your lives on the line on account of my deal, though."

Winona said, "Woah, woah, woah. Hold up. Do I hate Maxwell? Yeah. Would I love to see him thrown into an industrial garbage compressor and spat back out as a cube? Sure would. But I for one ain't leaving you out to dry on account of my grudge. Everyone else here is welcome to leave. I'm staying until we can all get home."

Wes nodded concurrence and lightly punched Winona's arm in support.

Wolfgang nodded. "Yes. Wolfgang will help, too. Can smash little man once we are home safe and sound, anyways."

Warly nodded easily. "Indeed. You saved my life. Twice! I would be remiss if I did not even attempt to return the favor."

Wortox chimed in, "Your predicament is, in part, my fault. I have a debt to pay. I will help."

Webber just said, "Webber will help, too! What are we doing?"

Allena smiled at him, but didn't answer. Her focus was on Wilson.

He was back to sitting in his own chair, lovingly carved with scientific implements, quills, and books. His hands were running through his hair, and he looked incredibly tired, but when he looked up and saw her staring at him, he stood. He came over to her again, but this time sat down beside her.

He touched her shoulder. "Allena, my love…all of this, is it true? The Shadow, Maxwell, these debts upon debts…is this truly the predicament we've found ourselves in?"

"Yes," she said, and her words failed her. Of all the promises she'd made, one stood out to her now more than ever…and it seemed to her that, despite all of her care and precautions, she had broken it to pieces.

She'd promised not to be a burden to him. Now, because of her, he was burdened with an unbearable task – rescuing his greatest enemy.

All she could say was, "I'm sorry."

She felt like all she deserved was dismissal and scorn. Not the kind of support her friends were offering her. Not their trust, or their forgiveness. Definitely not Wilson's.

He nodded and stood up again. He went to their tent, rustled around in it for a moment, then emerged.

He came back and knelt down beside her. "Saving Maxwell…frankly, I'd find it more pleasant to claw my own eyes out. But if that is what I need to do, I will do it. But just as Maxwell has burdened you with a symbol of your promise to him, I would ask you to carry a symbol of our promise."

She tilted her head in confusion. Their promise? "Which promise?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I certainly hope you haven't forgotten already. Perhaps I should have given this to you earlier as a reminder, but I was waiting for a better opportunity. I suppose this one will suffice."

He held out a small wooden box. It looked like a ring box. There was a hush around the firepit as she opened it.

Inside, on a cushion of white rabbit fur, was a ring. The band was gold, shiny and smooth, with simple, miniscule leaf designs fanning out to either side of the gem. The gem itself was as large as a honey bee, shined and shimmering, and it was as green as soft meadow grass in spring.

Her throat closed up. She held out her left hand, and Wilson slipped the band on. It fit her ring finger perfectly.

"You'll pardon me for skipping the engagement ring and going right to the wedding ring," Wilson said. "But I was rather impatient to see you in it. What do you think?"

She stared at the ring until her eyes blurred with tears. Then, she flung her arms around Wilson and buried her face in his neck. "I missed you," she choked out. "I know it was only a few days, but I missed you."

He hugged her back, and all the pain of the last few days disappeared between heartbeats. All her debts, all her vows, all her curses and worries and problems – it all stopped mattering.

Then Webber went, "Aww! Allena and Wilson, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage-"

Winona interjected, "Then comes Webber in a baby carriage!"

They broke apart with mild sighs. They were both used to it. Warly smacked his forehead in exasperation, and Winona and Wolfgang both roared with laughter while Webber stuck his tongue out at them. Wortox chuckled too, and Wes gave them two thumbs up.

Wilson sat back, clapped his hands, and said, "So! The new plan is as such: Finish preparing the Gateway, give it a test run to make sure it works, go rescue Charlie and Maxwell, return here, and we're homeward bound! Any objections?"

Allena winced. "Uh, yeah. Slight problem about the Gateway…"

* * *

After two hours of detailed explanation, it was bed time. Wilson had just lain down, and Allena was kicking off her shoes.

She'd told them about the problems with the Gateway, and how they would need to go on an expedition to acquire the materials for it. Then she'd told them all about finding the parts of Maxwell's teleportation device. They'd decided that they would send Wolfgang, Warly, and Webber to retrieve the parts. She, Wilson, Winona, and Wes would go on the expedition to the caves. Wortox would work on gathering intelligence to prepare them for rescuing Maxwell and Charlie. He would also Hop back and forth between the groups to offer assistance as needed. Once they were all back safe and sound and the teleportation device was finished, two of them would go on the trip to rescue Maxwell and Charlie. Maxwell had said only two people could use the device at a time, so they'd have to choose carefully.

But that was all to start tomorrow. Just then, she didn't care a lick about any of it.

It was hot enough out just four days into summer that they only needed a thin blanket to keep them warm all night. A thin blanket...and each other.

She pulled the blanket back and laid down right at Wilson's side. She hooked a leg over his, draped an arm over his chest, and laid her head on his shoulder.

He returned the embrace, smoothing a hand up her side and kissing the top of her head. "Last night I went to sleep believing I would never experience this again," he said sadly.

She pressed herself more tightly against him. "I'm sorry."

He squeezed her hip. "Why must you always apologize, my love? What have you to be sorry for? For dying to save our lives? For suffering that Shadow's ire in the underworld? For giving us a genuine chance to escape this world?"

"For making you grieve. I was only down there a day by my clock, and I knew you were safe and sound with the others. It was three for you, and as far as you knew, I was gone forever."

His eyes turned down to look at her, and she savored the warmth in them. "As I have said before, whatever pains your loss caused, they have been mended by your return. I cannot say the last few days were easy on me. They were not. But they are over."

She stretched her neck to reach him, and he leaned down to meet her in a kiss. Then he laid back down, eyes closing, and he said, "Sleep well, my love. Our last adventure begins tomorrow."


	52. Shocking!

They were all packed and ready to go.

They'd spent one day preparing for the expedition, and now, just three days after her return, they were on their way. Allena, Wilson, Wes, and Winona had everything they would need for the expedition. Wilson had most of their miscellaneous supplies. Wes had all of their food and water. Allena had their medical supplies, light sources, and emergency goods. Winona had the camping supplies. Everyone had at least one weapon.

Wolfgang, Warly, and Webber were also packed and ready to go. Glommer buzzed at Webber's side, and Chester hopped alongside Warly. They'd decided it would be safer to keep the pets aboveground.

Allena had given them the radio and the frequency, and it was already pinging just the way Maxwell had said it would. Everything was ready. Now it was time for goodbyes.

Allena stepped forward and gave first Warly, then Wolfgang, a hug. "Stay out of trouble, guys."

"But of course," Warly said, returning the hug warmly.

"Ah, you worry too much!" Wolfgang responded, clapping her very lightly on the back. "Like mama-hen. Wolfgang will be fine, keep others good and safe. Even little spider boy!" He patted Webber on the head. "You just watch out for Wes, eh?"

"Of course," Allena said. Wilson also nodded, clapping the mime on the back. Wes rolled his eyes, but didn't seem to really mind.

She turned to Webber and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Stay safe, Webber. Take good care of yourself. I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Webber nodded. He wasn't the least bit distraught. He was used to being away from them for long periods of time, after all. Still, he asked, "You are sure you do not want Webber to come with you instead? Can keep you safe from spiders!"

She scratched his head behind his spider legs, the way he liked, and he trilled happily. "No, you go with Warly and Wolfgang. Maxwell said he liked hiding his toys where there were lots of nasty monsters to guard them. There will probably be a spider stronghold somewhere along the way. Just do what you can to help, and I'll be back here before you know it."

"Okee. Allena stay safe, too! Will see you soon!"

He gave Wilson a hug, which was returned gingerly. Wes and Winona were both more enthusiastic, Winona having a soft spot for the spider-kid and Wes just being a cuddly sort of guy. "So," Winona said as Webber walked off. "We missin' anything?"

"I certainly hope not," Wilson said sharply. "I made a detailed list of everything we would need, and we spent the whole of yesterday packing. My lists are comprehensive. So long as you lot all followed them, we'll be just fine."

"Eh, Wolfgang may have skipped a few things. Did not look very important."

Wilson whirled around, face red, ready to lecture him, but the man was already chortling. "Am kidding, am kidding! Just wanted to see how science man would react."

They all laughed, though it was a bit tense. This was probably the most dangerous thing they'd done to date, aside from the Dragonfly encounter. None of them were overtly nervous, but the moment of goodbye certainly held gravitas.

"Alright," Wilson said, pulling out his travel map. "We will head southeast, past the tallfort and towards Winona's old encampment until we hit the caves. You three will head southwest, as that's where you determined the nearest object was, yes?"

Winona nodded. She'd gone out early that morning and taken a series of readings. Based on the minute changes she'd heard in the pinging, she'd come to the conclusion that the object was southwest, towards the Pigwood. She'd shown Warly how to determine that so he would be able to take care of the navigation from there on out.

"Good," Wilson said. "Any questions or clarifications before we go?"

Webber raised his hand.

"Yes, Webber?"

"Will Wilson bring us a souvenir when he comes back?"

Wilson sighed heavily. "Yes, Webber. I will bring you a souvenir when I get back."

Webber squealed happily. With no other questions, they all set off.

They waved goodbye to each other once they reached the Vargwood, splitting off to the east and west. It was a bit creepy, striding through the burned and blackened forest, their feet sinking past their ankles in the ash. Easy to recall what it used to look like, and disquieting to see how rapidly such things could change.

Allena stopped and looked back, watching Webber, Wolfgang, and Warly slip out of sight, a swirling cloud of soot left in their wake. Only once they were properly gone did she run to catch up with the others.

Wilson was heading the group, but a short way into the walk he had Winona and Wes take the lead as he fell back to the rear. "I never asked," he said as he drew level with Allena. "Are you sure you're up for this trek? You were disemboweled less than a week ago. Are you certain you're alright?"

"Yeah," she said. "When I woke up I'd been completely healed. I felt better than I have in a long time. No more aches and pains, no more rashes or sores; I'm all good. What about you guys? Were any of you hurt?"

Wilson shrugged. "A few minor burns and scrapes. Nothing worse than a bad case of sunburn, all mended with salve. Are your arms okay? Your hands? I know that your confinement was uncomfortable."

She replied as casually as she could. "Oh, they're fine. A little sore, but mostly fine. A cup of tea and some rest was really all I needed."

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "Allena, I'm sorry for the way we reacted to your return. Distrusting you, tying you up; after all you had already been through, it must have been unbearable. I, in particular, was cold in the extreme. I am so sorry I treated you that way."

Ah. She'd figured that would be coming eventually. Ordinarily she would have just dismissed it, told him everything was fine; but if she was being honest with herself, there was still some lingering hurt over it. It would be better to address it early rather than just hope it went away. "Yeah. That wasn't great to come back to. I mean, I get why you did it, and I don't blame you for being careful, but it was really difficult to see you so angry with me."

His answer was prompt and alarmed. "Angry? With you? No! Please, do not misunderstand. I was angry, yes, but it was more with myself than anything. I did not know whether you were truly you or whether you were some ploy by Maxwell – like the way he cast your voice out of the Island Thornwood to distract Wes during the Torrent. I thought if he could do that, he may be able to impersonate you. I just told myself I couldn't afford to let my guard down, even a little. I clung to the anger as a way to keep everything else at bay. But I was never angry at you."

"Wait," she said. "You thought Maxwell was impersonating me?"

"Of course," he said quizzically. "Or else that he had cast some sort of spell on you. Why? You didn't think we thought you had betrayed us of your own volition, did you?"

He must have read the helpless look on her face, because he gave her a sad, lopsided smile and reached out to touch her. "Allena, you ridiculous girl. How could we ever think you would betray us? You are the best of us."

She blushed, first with embarrassment, then with shame. Why had she believed they had thought her a traitor? Had she really assumed the worst of them so quickly?

Then the relief set in. They'd never distrusted her. Only Maxwell, and the Shadow.

That was actually really good to know. "Thanks, Wilson. I think I needed to hear that."

"No doubt. I can only imagine was yesterday must have been like for you. Thank goodness Wortox showed up."

"Did someone say my name?"

Wilson started like a spooked cat, then turned around with a disapproving look. Wortox had appeared out of nowhere just behind them. "Must you always sneak up on us?" Wilson demanded.

Wortox twitched his nose and said, "I do not always sneak up on you. I can think of at least two times that I have come through the front door!"

Allena laughed, and she saw that Wes and Winona had both slowed down to let the three of them catch up. "Hey, Wortox," Winona said. "What'cha doing here? Ain't you supposed to be off looking for clues on how to break my sister out?"

"Yes, among other things," he said cryptically. Allena got the sense that he was interested in some independent research, though she wasn't sure of the topic. "And I will depart soon. I just wished to share a bit of advice with you. If you get a shivery feeling on the back of your neck – a sudden chill, a sense of dread – speak of nicer things. The Shadow may be watching, listening, and it would behoove us if it were to be misled. Perhaps chat about an adventure of exploration? Muse on what you may find? But do not make it seem as though your goal is charted. If it discovers our true goal, it will likely make things very difficult for us."

They all traded looks of concern. "Gotcha," Winona said. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Maxwell said he'd try to keep the Shadow distracted," Allena added. "But who knows how much he'll be able to? I think an extra precaution like that is a good idea. Can you tell the others that?"

"Right away. Good luck! I will see you soon!"

"Alright," Allena said. "Good—"

But Wortox had already pulled out a soul. Before she could even finish her sentence, he'd vanished with a light _pop!_

"—bye…"

Winona rolled her eyes and struck up a conversation about how weird Wortox was, what with all the appearing out of nowhere and periodically rhyming. Allena told her about how much he loved poetry, and how she'd told him a bunch of Shel Silverstein and Ogden Nash. Wes recognized Ogden Nash, who had apparently reached critical acclaim sometime in the nineteen thirties, and would have been very popular around Wes's era.

Wes was thrilled when he mimed out a praying mantis and Allena immediately recognized the poem he was referencing. "From whence arrived the praying mantis?" She recited. "From outer space, or lost Atlantis? Glimpse the grin, green metal mug, at masks the pseudo-saintly bug. Orthopterous, also carnivorous, and faintly whisper, 'Lord, deliver us!'"

She spent the next hour or so entertaining them with poems. Once they got out of the woods and the sun started rising, however, it got just a bit too warm to walk and talk comfortably. They all fell silent.

* * *

They stopped every few hours to rest their feet and shoulders, have a quick snack of jerky, and get hydrated. Then they kept going.

It went like this for about three days; Wortox popped in once to check on them, and to inform them that party two – Wolfgang, Warly, and Webber – were all doing well, and nearing the first object. Wortox apparently didn't enjoy visiting them quite as much, as the pinging from the radio hurt his ears, and it got faster every day.

It was day three when they ran into trouble.

It wasn't big trouble – just a nuisance. One of the plains they needed to cross was inhabited by beefalo, and evidently this beefalo herd didn't follow the same biological schedule as _their_ beefalo herd, because although their beefalo herd went into heat in early spring, this one seemed to get hot and bothered in early summer.

"That makes no sense!" Wilson exclaimed as he watched a beefalo eye him angrily from forty feet away and stamp its hoof. "They'll be raising calves in the middle of winter!"

Allena shrugged. "Maybe they're off-kilter because they're overpopulated. I've heard of that happening."

The herd really was absurdly large; it stretched the entire plain, rosy red rumps as far as the eye could see. The grass was fairly trampled and thin, and all other vegetation had been stripped down completely. Many of the beefalo looked hungry, and from what Wilson had told her, a hungry beefalo was an angry beefalo. That, combined with their rut, meant that there was no way they would be able to just mosey between them.

With a long sigh, they started walking. Winona's map came in useful here; she was able to point out the quickest detour, a southward cant that would take them through a desert and have them at an oasis by the hottest part of the afternoon.

They'd been making very good time, but they were tired. They all perked up at the word 'oasis', and agreed that they would take a couple hours to rest there and start again at early dusk. They would just walk a bit later than usual to make up for it.

At once point a young male beefalo made a charge for them, and Allena pulled out a boomerang and thunked it on the head when it got within fifteen feet. The rest of the herd didn't react, likely because the buck had strayed so far to charge them. Or maybe they were all just too hot and hungry to be picking fights. At any rate, the aggressive beefalo left off with a sullen glare.

By the time they reached the desert, it was getting quite toasty. They'd all put on their hats by then, and were drinking water like mad. Thankfully, an hour into their desert hike they got a pleasant surprise; a cool breeze picked up, and some clouds rolled in overhead.

"Early summer storm?" Allena ventured.

Wilson gave the sky an approving look. "Indeed. Not very common once spring ends, but they happen. We may even get some rain…though I'd like to make it somewhere more sheltered soon. Such storms often come with thunder."

Indeed, two hours later they saw a flash of lightning in the distance. Allena counted, but it was at least twelve seconds before she heard the report of thunder. It was a good long ways away…but on the other hand, they were heading in its direction, and it in theirs.

The next time they heard the thunder, it was only nine seconds before the report. Then seven seconds. Then five.

By the time they reached the oasis, the storm was only a couple miles away at most. They all jogged for the tall birch trees that cloistered around the pool, and only calmed once they were in amongst them. The birch trees would make better conductors than they would, being so tall.

The oasis was a small thing, nice and grassy, with a pool of water in the middle. Also nearby was something Allena had never seen before.

"Goats!" She said, pointing to the bleating beasts. Their chests and long necks were shaggy and white, their heads and backs a stark grey-blue. They also had long bluish beards, and their horns were magnificent: tall and nearly golden, they stuck up two feet out of their heads, which were already at least four feet off the ground. The horns were shaped like a Christmas ribbon stretched almost taut, sharply curled but also straight.

They were bouncing around the mostly-barren ground a short ways from the oasis, chewing cud, occasionally bending down to nibble at some dry grass or thorny bushes.

"Why do they not come to eat the grass here?" Wilson said. His tone was wary, and Allena could see why. They grass over here was green and fresh, much more tasty and plentiful than the dry stuff they were chewing on. Why were the goats avoiding the oasis?

Winona waved their concerns aside. "Don't worry. I've been coming here for ages. There's nothing dangerous here. The goats just don't like the birch trees for some reason. Don't know why – I've never had any trouble with 'em. In fact, lookie here! Nuts!"

Indeed, there was a small scattering of birch nuts around the clearing. Wilson loved birch nuts, and Allena hated them, so she gave Wilson all the ones she found. He accepted them gratefully.

They sat around chewing on nuts, enjoying the breeze, and toweling down with the pool water. They were just about to pull out their jerky for a more proper meal when Wilson asked, "Say, those goats – are they protective of each other?"

"Not at all," Winona replied. Allena got the sense she knew what Wilson was hinting at. "On the contrary, if you attack one of 'em the rest will either run away or ignore you."

Wilson licked his lips. "Do they taste good?"

Winona waggled her eyebrows at him. "Helluva lot better than beefalo, in my opinion."

Wilson nodded, grabbed his spear, and said, "Who's interested in some fresh meat for dinner tonight? Save us some jerky? I think we could manage one or two of those, don't you?"

Wes hopped up at once. He pulled out his spear, and Wilson did the same. "M'ladies," Wilson said. "Why don't you let your menfolk do the grocery shopping tonight?"

Winona snorted. "Men."

Allena giggled. Winona continued, "I used to hunt these things like you guys hunt rabbits. You get one, Allena and I will handle the other. Right Allena?"

"Totally!" Allena said. "You're gonna have to show me how, though. I've never taken on big game. Wilson's always done all the hunting."

Winona grabbed her tentacle mace and said, "Don't worry about it. Easy as one-two-three. One," she said as they split off from Wilson and Wes to find their own target. "Pick a goat. Two," she said as she pointed out a nice fat one a short ways away from the herd. "Aim for the legs to lame it before you go for the neck and head. Three," she said as she and Allena both positioned themselves to minimize escape chance. "Don't let it stab you. Seriously, those horns hurt. Ready?"

"Ready," Allena said. "Hold on, let me…"

She pulled out her boomerang, took careful aim, and let fly.

The goat didn't even see it coming. One moment it had bent down to tug on a tuft of grass, the next it was on its side bleating loudly, its leg having been cleanly broken by Allena's expert throw.

"Nice!" Winona called as she ran forward to finish it off. Allena, too, jogged forward, albeit more carefully. A wounded animal was the one you had to be most careful of.

There weren't any problems, though. Allena waved her hands and kept its attention on her until Winona could wind up and deliver a killing blow – two tentacle spikes through the skull.

Allena pulled out her hunting knife, pressed the head down by the horns to be sure she wouldn't be skewered by surprise, and drew the edge across the jugular. The blow had looked lethal, but that was the best way to be sure it was out of its misery.

She stepped back to let the goat drain and took a look at Wes and Wilson. She'd heard a few sharp bleats and hollers, and it looked as though they had both fared just as well on their hunt. A nice fat goat lay slain on the ground a short ways away, a spear sticking out of it, Wilson and Wes already working on butchering it.

"Wow," Allena said. "Two goats in about two minutes. How did you not eat these things to extinction?"

"I couldn't," Winona said. "If I had, I'd have starved during winter. I managed their numbers carefully. I was lucky to have these things nearby. Along with the beefalo, they kept me going all that time."

"You hunted beefalo?" Allena asked in disbelief.

Winona laughed. "Oh, hell no. Well, I did manage one once, but that was with a whole bunch of planning and good luck. Almost got trampled, too. Not worth the risk. I just milked them, churned tons of butter, even made cheese once. Wasn't very good. Stuck to milk and butter. Yeah, they really kept me going."

With the goat thoroughly exsanguinated, Allena crouched down to start butchering. "You're really cool, you know that? Surviving on your own all this time. I never had to. I always had Wilson to take care of me. I'd never have made it without him."

Winona flipped the goat over and held it still while Allena sliced it from groin to sternum, like Wilson had taught her. "Ah, don't sell yourself short. You'd have done fine."

Allena shook her head. "I really don't think I would have. I had no experience with surviving in the wild, I couldn't make any tools or even rope, I didn't even think about preparing for winter until it started to get chilly…"

After a few more cuts they tugged the skin back to the spine and Winona cut out a backstrap, placing it on a piece of hide to keep it off the ground. "Besides," Allena went on, "I've never been one to stand up for myself, to be honest. I fight hardest when I'm fighting for someone else. With Wilson there, surviving just became so much more important."

Winona nodded. "That's why you made the deal, isn't it? For Wilson?"

Allena fumbled with the knife and almost cut herself. "Yeah," she said. "I just couldn't leave him—"

_BOOM!_

Both of them threw their hands up in an automatic protective stance as light and sound crashed across the clearing. Lightning had struck nearby. Very nearby.

At first Allena turned in horror, sure that Wilson or Wes had just been killed, but they were both standing up unharmed.

Then she saw the goat.

Holy crap. It appeared that one of the goats in the herd had been struck by the lightning. The thing was bristling and crackling with static. Its horns were glowing faintly, and little shards of electricity kept surging up between them. It also looked very, very angry.

Allena glanced at Winona, who said, "I've never seen that happen before."

Then the goat charged them.

They both jumped up and Winona yelped, "I've never seen that happen before, either! Run!"

They both took off towards the oasis, but Allena was forced to swerve sharply as the goat caught up to her. Having missed her it veered towards Winona, who also juked just in time to dodge it. They couldn't make it to the trees; the thing was way too fast.

Wilson had run over, spear out, and charged the beast with a roar. He hoisted his spear, drove it into the goat's shoulder as it whirled around to attack him…

…and went totally rigid as raw electrical power coursed through the spear right into him. After a few seconds of stiff twitching, he fell to the ground.

The goat whirled back around to Winona as Allena ran over to Wilson. "Wilson! Are you okay?"

She dropped to her knees beside him to check on him. His eyes were crossed, his body still twitching, but after a moment he seemed to recover. Kind of. "Uh…" He moaned. "Whazzat a…volt…goat?"

Volt goat. Good enough name for her. "Yeah, Wilson, it was a volt goat. Come on, you're hurt, we need to get you out of here."

She started to help him to his feet when she heard Winona scream.

She'd dodged the goat again, but this time she'd tripped. The ground was cracked from the heat, and it looked like she'd stepped in one of the cracks, wedging her foot and rendering her immobile.

Allena paled. She prepared to drop Wilson and run to Winona's aid, but there was no time. The goat had turned about and was already charging her. Its head was lowered, horns sticking straight out, and it was ready to trample or impale anything in its path.

Wes caught up to them. His spear was still lodged in the other goat, presumably stuck, and he ran full tilt at the volt goat with nothing but his bare fists. He was perpendicular to it, and just before it reached Winona he barreled into it and punched it full in the face.

The blow was enough to turn the goat from its path, and because the contact had been so brief Wes had only gotten a small jolt, but now the goat was turning to face him.

He stepped between it and Winona, and the goat took a step towards him. They were now face to face, and the goat didn't even hesitate before Wes's imposing posture. It just reared up, lowered its head, and lunged.

Wes stepped back, braced himself, and grabbed its horns.

Allena could see the power arcing straight out of the goat and into Wes. He went stiff as a board as every muscle in his body contracted all at once. The goat was suspended with its front feet still off the ground. It was gritting its teeth and bleating loudly, but Wes held on. Maybe he couldn't let go ever if he wanted to.

After about ten seconds, the power surge stopped. The goat went limp for a moment before shaking itself furiously in an attempt to get out of Wes's grip. Wes, however, still wasn't letting go.

Winona was still stuck just behind him, staring up at the confrontation. She couldn't see Wes's expression, but Allena could. She saw the look in his eyes as he stared down that goat. It was a fiery look. He was enraged in a way she had never seen before.

Wes's nostrils flared. His arms tensed, and with a single, awesome movement, he heaved sideways, wrenching the goat's head towards the ground, using its own horns for leverage. It fell with a thud, and he dropped down with his full weight, slamming a knee down on its neck. Finally, he adjusted his grip – he grabbed a horn in one hand, the goat's chin in the other, and _twisted._

She could see the strain in his shoulders as the goat's head began to rotate. It was fighting, screaming furiously now, and Allena didn't think Wes had it in him. But then there was a sickening _snap,_ and the bleating fell silent.

Wes had broken the volt goat's neck with his bare hands.

Again, holy crap.

He stood up shakily, turning back to Winona, and reached down to help her. Winona, mouth agape with astonishment, took his hand and pulled herself out of the hole. Then she took a step to the side to look at the dead animal. She ran her fingers through her hair.

As Allena watched, Wes's gaze softened. He reached out and put a hand on Winona's waist, looking her up and down in concern.

"I'm fine," she said.

He nodded, looking relieved, and then he looped his arms around her and hugged her.

This wasn't a friendly, 'nice to see you're okay' hug. This was an, 'oh, thank God you're okay, I don't know what I would have done without you' hug. This was a distinctly loving hug.

Allena thought that Winona wouldn't react well to it. Aside from Webber, she mostly wasn't a hugging kind of person. But to Allena's surprise, the woman reached an arm around his waist and returned the gesture, letting her head rest against his shoulder for a moment. She looked…comfortable.

The two broke apart, and Wes began covertly miming something to her. Allena couldn't see what it was, but she had a pretty good idea.

She smiled. Then she helped Wilson get stable and quietly led him away.

"Wha's…goin'…on?" Wilson mumbled, still dazed.

"Nothing," Allena said as she got him back to the pond. "Don't worry about it."

* * *

Winona was looking up at Wes, strangely torn between awe and amusement. The electrified goat lay dead at their feet, its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Even though she'd seen him take on some pretty big opponents, she'd had no idea the mime had had it in him to do something like that.

The way his expression had changed from 100% pissed to his typical concern had been abrupt enough to make her want to laugh. Then he'd hugged her.

She knew what that kind of hug was all about. She'd never been good with men on that level, but you'd have to be pretty obtuse not to figure it out from a hug like that.

She'd started suspecting that Wes had feelings for her shortly after he'd given her the bag of tape. She'd thought he was just a regular old nice guy, but she'd started to notice that he didn't really do those sorts of things for everyone else. At least not to the degree that he did them for her.

He was always bringing her little gifts and tidbits, tidying up her workspace for her, making sure she always had whatever materials she needed even before she asked for them. He was also really good at picking up on her moods, like when she didn't want to be bugged while she was inventing. That was something not a lot of men had going for them.

All the men who'd tried it out with her had come at her with roses and romantic outings, not construction supplies and a general respect for personal boundaries. That was why it had taken her so long to figure it out. She'd been tossing the idea of a relationship around for a while, but it just hadn't seemed quite likely. There had been something missing.

Of course she knew what that had been. It was the toughness factor. She was damn good at taking care of herself after all that time in the Constant, but she was still the type of gal who needed to know that her partner could step up to the plate when she needed him to. Well, damned if Wes hadn't just proved that he could.

He was gesturing to her, but his hands seemed to be stuttering. He'd get halfway through a mime, then stop and wave his hands like he was saying, _no, wait, that's not it. Forget I said that._ If there was one gesture he kept going back to though, it was touching his heart and pointing at her.

She stopped watching his hands and spent a minute inspecting his face. Smooth and heart-shaped, with a button nose and stark cheeks. Wide, bright grey eyes, and ears that were just a little too big for his head. His shiny black hair, always well-trimmed but never too short, framed his face perfectly, and he had those really expressive kinds of eyebrows.

Yeah, the face paint was a little weird, but other than that he was a pretty attractive guy. She'd take it.

She glanced around to make sure they were alone – good old Allena had picked up on the situation and dragged Wilson off somewhere – then she grabbed Wes's collar, tugged him down, and kissed him.

She saw his eyes pop open wide before they fluttered closed. His lips melded smoothly with hers. His hands went around to her back, tentative at first, then more firm as the kiss became more natural. That was important. Not forcing it.

She'd never been much of a kissing kinda gal, but this was actually pretty nice. She sure did hope she didn't end up with black lips and a white nose, though.

* * *

They'd decided to just spend the rest of the evening at the oasis on account of the storm. It sprinkled lightly on and off until night fell, and a few more lightning bolts struck nearby, but the goats were far enough away that they didn't have any problems with them.

They sat around the campfire eating roasted goat. Allena had tended to Wilson's shock while Wes and Winona had finished butchering up the kills. Then Wes and Allena had prepared the cuts, Wes tenderizing them and Allena using a basic herb rub that Warly had so conscientiously packed for them and putting them on to roast.

Wes and Winona were sitting side by side, and though Winona looked pretty much the same as usual, Wes was glowing like a storm-stuck volt goat. Wilson didn't seem to notice, though whether that was because he was still dizzy from his electrocution or because he was just oblivious to that sort of thing in general was anyone's guess. At any rate, they enjoyed their dinner, set up their sleeping supplies, and went to bed.

They woke up very early the next morning, having gone to bed so early the previous night, and they were all raring to go. Wilson was fully recovered, and the morning air didn't feel too warm. They got walking.

Thankfully, they didn't have any more problems over the next two days of hiking. They were even able to skip most of the swamp and not have to deal with the tentacles due to their course-correction to avoid the beefalo, so that worked out for the best as well. They lunched in Winona's old camp while she showed them around and regaled them with stories about her early days in the Constant, then they set off for the caves.

Allena's flashlight and travel lantern were both fully charged, though they would only last so long. They'd stocked up on torches before heading out, and Winona had a couple extra lanterns and some weird headgear that she called her 'moggles' which let her see in the dark, so they were pretty well set.

They were all cloistered around the entrance, weapons drawn, and Winona said, "Ready?"

"Ready," they all replied. Wes gave a thumbs up, though he looked fairly nervous.

Winona nodded, walked up to the cave entrance, stuck her head in, and screeched at the top of her lungs.

That done she jumped back before the swarm of bats could rip her face off.

At least a dozen huge white cave bats flew out in a wild, flapping storm, and they all started slashing. They dealt with the ones close to the ground first, then Allena started knocking them out of the sky with her boomerang. Within a few minutes, all of them were dead.

Allena picked one up by the wing and asked, "You think these would be any good to eat?"

Winona nodded. "Oh, yeah. They're pretty decent. Not very meaty, though."

Allena shrugged, quickly chopped a few wings off, and stowed them in her backpack. Waste not, want not.

They started down, and Allena had to lean against the cave wall for the first twenty feet. After that the wall ended and there was nothing but a long, narrow staircase with long drops on either side, and she stopped as the rest of them continued on.

Winona looked back and her and asked, "Hey, you okay?"

They all paused, and Allena swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Fine. Um."

Wilson explained, "Ah, she's a bit iffy on heights. It's alright, the stairway isn't going to crumble. Right, Winona?"

"Right-o. Sturdy as sturdy can be."

Allena stared at it, said, "Yeah, okay, I'm coming," and started down.

That said, she sat down and started sliding down on her butt, with her hands on either side of her clutching at the stone. She really didn't want to fall off.

Winona tried very hard to stifle her laughter, and Wilson watched her patiently. It took a little while, but eventually they all reached ground level.

She got up feeling a bit embarrassed, but Wes came over and gave her a sympathetic pat on the back. He pointed up to the cave entrance, bared his teeth and flapped his hands, then wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered.

"You're afraid of bats?" Allena asked.

He nodded. Looked like they all had a few irrational fears. If you could call fearing lethal drops and monster bats irrational.

As they walked, Winona asked, "So remind me what we're lookin' for again?"

"A sinkhole, like the one that let you get down here," Allena said. "There's a level of the caves even lower than this one, and that's where all the materials we need for the Gateway can be found. At least, that's what Maxwell believes."

"And where is this sinkhole?" Wilson asked.

Allena fidgeted nervously. Maxwell had told her that he would point them in the right direction, but she didn't know how he was going to do that. If he projected himself here, then the Shadow would know what they were…

She felt a chill run up her spine, and she looked around to see if anyone else had felt it. It seemed that no one else had. Then she realized that the chill was more of an electric current…and it was coming from her necklace.

She pulled it out and yelped as it sent a small jolt through her. The gem crackled, then a bright beam of light shot out of it, off into the darkness.

They all stared at the violet laser, and Allena said, "Uh, I guess it's in that direction."

Wes tapped her on the shoulder, eyes wide, and he made a ticking gesture, like the hands of a clock. Allena frowned and waited for him to elaborate, and he pointed at the necklace, mimed inspecting a compass, and Allena figured out what he was saying.

"This thing is like the compass Maxwell gave you?"

Wes nodded, then made the ticking gesture again.

That's right. Wes had told them that Maxwell's compass had had an operating life of five days. After that it had worn off. "We might only have a limited amount of time to find the sinkhole before the light gives out?"

Wes nodded.

Wilson turned towards the light and started off towards it at a brisk pace. "Well then, no time to waste."

Allena moved to the front to ensure the light wouldn't be blocked. They all started off in the direction of the beam.

Into the darkness they went.


	53. Down, down, down

"Hey Wilson, how did that story of yours go again? About the kingdom of bunnymen?"

Allena was asking on a prompt from Wes, who had pointed at Wilson, mimed opening a book, and started hopping around like a bunny. It had taken her a minute to figure out what he was referencing.

Wilson gave her a dirty look, which was to be expected. She knew full well that he'd only shared the story in the first place because he'd been loopy on butterfly wings some weeks ago after a bad hound attack had left him with a broken wrist. He made a noticeable noise of disgust.

Still, he was kind enough to recount the story. "When I was a child I asked where the bunnies went when they burrowed underground," he began stiffly. "My mother told me that they went to the kingdom of the bunnymen. She said that as soon as they were out of sight, they all put on their dapper little black coats and little silk top hats and donned tiny golden monocles, and hopped about saying, 'Good day, sir! How are you this fine afternoon?' talking like perfect little gentlemen. She said that the deeper you went in the kingdom of the bunnymen, they bigger and more sophisticated the bunnies got, until they were so polite and charming that you could hardly tell them apart from humans. She also said that they used sliced carrots as their currency in lieu of gold coins, and they regarded our carrot farms the way we regard gold mines."

He said all of this so matter-of-factly that Allena couldn't help but giggle, and Winona had a big grin on her face. "Yeah? Well, I don't know about polite and sophisticated, but the bunnies down here sure do get big. You wanna meet some?"

Wilson raised an eyebrow at her. "Come again?"

She reiterated herself with a challenging edge to her voice. "I asked if you wanna meet the bunnymen, Wilson?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, of course," he said sarcastically. "I'd just _love_ to meet some bunnymen."

"Well," Winona said, turning abruptly from the path. "They're right over here. Come on. Just make sure you have your weapons drawn. They don't like it when they can smell meat on you, and we still reek like dead goat."

Wilson gave her a disapproving look. "Do you really think we should be wasting precious time with such silly jokes? We're on a schedule!"

They had already been walking for two days. They hadn't run into too much – though the giant rock spiders were a bit of an unpleasant find, and cave bats were a regular nuisance. They'd been following the light up until then, but it seemed that Winona wanted to take them off road for something.

"It's fine," she said. "We can take a twenty-minute detour."

"Assuming it will only take twenty minutes," Wilson grumbled. Winona had this section of the caverns mapped out, however, so if she said it wouldn't take long, Allena trusted that it wouldn't take long.

Sure enough, they'd walked less than ten minutes before everyone stopped.

"What is that?" Wilson asked cautiously.

There was a heavy _thump, thump, thump_ coming towards them. Winona grinned and said, "Dinner, if you guys want some fresh meat tonight." They had run out of bat wings and goat yesterday.

They all waited and watched. Winona drew her weapon casually, and the others followed suit. Then, out of the darkness, came…

A bunnyman.

The look on Wilson's face was priceless as he took in the ridiculous creature that had just hopped into the light of their lanterns. It was nearly seven feet tall, bulky and hunched, and entirely covered in soft white fur. It had long, tall ears, short, stubby legs, and cute, furry paws. It's nose was flat, pink, and twitchy, its buck teeth long and slightly yellowed, and its mouth was set in a huge, adorable, lopsided smile.

The only thing disturbing about it was its glowing red eyes.

Wilson stared at it, openmouthed, for several moments. Then, in total awe he said, "I am filled with an irresistible urge to do science."

Then the bunnyman hopped forward, sniffed at them curiously, and roared.

They all jumped back as it gurgled, "MURDERERS!" And started bounding towards them.

Winona ran forward at once, Wes right on her heels, and while Wes lunged forward with his spear Winona ducked around the bunny's swipe and swung her tentacle mace at its ribs. It squealed in pain as it was skewered from two different directions, and Winona said, "Let's get this thing down fast! Where there's one, there's usually more!"

Sure enough, they heard a chorus of screeching bellows from deeper in the darkness, and Winona wound up and swung again. Wes slashed at the bunnyman's neck, but he didn't get far past the thick fur.

Wilson said, "This is absurd! But it does look rather meaty…" and he ran in to help in the battle.

Allena hung back with her boomerang, ready to provide backup if she saw an opportunity. With Wilson joining in, the bunnyman went down fast, but Allena saw her chance to help just as Winona grabbed it by the ears and said, "Help me drag this thing away!"

Wes and Wilson also grabbed it, but another bunnyman came bouncing out of the black right behind them. Allena drew back her arm and hurled her boomerang.

She'd meant to hit its head, but instead – to her guilty horror – her weapon lopped the thing's ears clean off, causing it to scream in pain and retreat.

"I'm sorry!" She yelled after it as it ran away crying. She caught her boomerang, which was covered in blood and small tufts of white fur, and backed out of the way as the others dragged the dead bunnyman by. Killing something for food was fine, but maiming the things? She felt really bad.

A couple more bunnymen came out after them, and Allena wound up and aimed better this time. The boomerang whacked one over the head, and it stumbled to a halt and swayed on the spot. Its friend growled and came at her. She jogged backwards, hoping it would leave her alone, but no dice. Wilson had to let go of their kill and jab at the attacker to get it to leave off. Allena kept throwing the boomerang from afar, thankfully severing no more ears, and soon the bunnymen gave up. They stopped pursuing, and just stood there and watched as their buddy was dragged away to be butchered.  
Allena wiped her boomerang off, looked back at them one more time, and…

...nearly fell over as a wave of nausea hit her. Vertigo. The world wavered as what little color was in it vanished.

The bunnymen changed.

One moment they were soft and white. The next, they were bristly and black. Pure black. Their arms were held out to the sides and tipped with small, sharp claws. Their mouths were turned down in hateful scowls, and their teeth were longer and sharper. The only thing that stayed the same was their eyes. Empty, red, glaring eyes.

Then they were white again. Then black. Veins of red light were crawling out of the darkness behind them, coming for her. She kept backing up. White. Black. Grey.

"Allena?"

She turned and saw Wilson, but he seemed faded, and just behind him loomed a frightful figure; a giant, beaked creature made entirely out of shadow.

Allena gasped. She reached back and pulled out her shadow sword, which she'd been trying to avoid using. She didn't like the feel of it, but…

The shadow lurched forward. It went right through Wilson, and he didn't even see it. It came at her.

"Allena?!" He sounded alarmed now as she swayed on the spot and prepared to do battle. The terrorbeak was coming at her; she swung at it and did some damage, but when she went to put more space between them, Wilson was in her way.

"Move!" She rasped. He stumbled backwards as she swung the sword again.

"Allena! Stop! There's nothing there!"

Winona and Wes were now watching her, too, but the terrorbeak was coming again. It had wavered at her blow, but it wasn't dead.

With a screech she darted forward and swung again, dodging out of the way as it pecked at her. She swung again. It opened its mouth in a silent scream. She swung again. It fell.

She brought the sword down several more times, hacking it in half, all the while hearing Wilson shout, "Allena, stop! Put down the sword! Allena!"

The monster dissolved into a puddle of shadow. At once the world went back to normal with a soft mental _pop!_

She put the sword away.

She was breathing heavily, and Wilson approached her with his hands out, his posture one of extreme caution. "Allena? Are you alright?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, yes. Kind of. Uh..."

"What the hell was that all about, eh?" Winona said. She sounded angry, and Wes, beside her, looked tense and wide-eyed. "You just started screeching and swinging that thing around like you were surrounded by hounds!"

"There was a shadow," she said as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. "Didn't any of you see it?"

They all shook their heads. They were looking at her like she was crazy.

"It was there," she said, pointing. "It was right there behind Wilson. It attacked me. You didn't see that? _Any_ of that? The world went grey, the bunnymen turned black…"

Winona frowned. "Wait, they turned black?"

Wilson looked back at her sharply. "Winona? Have you seen something like that happen before?"

"Yeah," she said uneasily. "When I was going a little crazy once, they turned black for a while. But they were fine this time. I mean, look at them – they're white right now."

They turned back. The bunnymen, still watching them on the edges of the flickering light, were white.

Wilson looked deeply concerned. "Well, are you feeling better now, Allena?"

She looked around desperately. Did any of them believe her? "I'm fine, but you have to understand – it happened. It was just like when I was in the manor. It…"

Then her eyes widened. She turned back to the shadow to see that, sure enough, it hadn't dissolved completely.

She scooped up the black, semi-transparent blob, and held it out to Wilson. "There! You see that, don't you?"

Wilson's jaw dropped when he saw the blob. "That's Nightmare Fuel!"

Allena watched him for signs of belief, and to her relief she saw it. "Nightmare Fuel doesn't just come out of nowhere," he explained. "There was definitely a shadow creature here."

Wes looked around nervously, but Allena said, "It's alright. The thing went straight through Wilson and he didn't even notice it. I don't think they're threats to any of you."

"What about you?" Wilson asked concernedly. "Whatever just happened to you, it drove you stark mad for a few moments. What happened?"

Allena shrugged. "I don't know. It just…" She rubbed her face. "I'm sorry. I just don't know."

Well, there was nothing else for it. They got some good cuts from the bunnyman for dinner that night and took off again as a dozen hateful red eyes gazed out at them from the darkness.

* * *

By the start of the next day they were in unfamiliar territory. "This is as far as I've mapped down here," Winona said. "From here on out, we'll wanna be real careful."

Wilson nodded. Up until then the trip had been easy enough, mostly rocky terrain and lovely giant mushrooms, which Winona called mushtrees. They'd stocked up on tons of lumber and lightbulb plants, which there thankfully very light, and they'd only had to deal with one earthquake. Wes's lightbulb balloon trick had really helped them out there.

A couple hours later the terrain changed. While it had been plain stone since yesterday, with a handful of stalagmites and a couple of spider nests, it was now green and just a bit sticky.

"Hey, Winona, what's up with this place?" Allena asked as she lifted a foot to examine her shoe.

Winona shrugged. "No clue. Never seen it before. Keep an eye out, I guess. Who knows what we might run into?"

They went on hoping that the region would be unremarkable, but not ten minutes in, they heard a sick, squelching noise approaching them. Looked like they would be dealing with something new. They held up their lanterns, pulled out their weapons, and watched the darkness as the new encounter approached them.

They stood, waiting for the unknown entity to emerge into the light, and after a minute they just frowned a looked at each other. The sound was getting closer, but only very slowly. What in the world was it?

What it was became apparent after another minute of tense waiting, at which point what appeared to be a giant snail slunk slowly out of the blackness towards them.

It had blank white eyes like most of the animals in the Constant, and its shell was smooth and yellow-brown with a tall shark fin on the back. As they watched, its neck stretched out of its shell, then it dragged the rest of its body along behind it. Its shell was at least four feet long, almost as tall as them with its fin, and its neck stretched out nearly a yard at its longest.

They all relaxed. How much danger could a snail pose?

"Well that was underwhelming," Wilson commented, and Allena laughed.

"Jeez," Winona said. "Look at that shell. I think Allena could fit inside that thing."

Allena was grinning. She loved snails. "Aw, its adorable! Look at it! Think I could pet it if I'm careful?"

"Oh, please don't, Allena," Wilson begged. "It's hideous, and what's more its probably slimy. Leave it be."

She disregarded this walked forward to inspect it. The most dangerous-looking part of it was the big, dull tooth sticking out of the front of its mouth. Even that looked kind of cute, like a kid with a goofy smile.

"Aww, hey there buddy! Aren't you just adora—ACK!"

She jumped back as it lunged out with its big, stupid tusk and grabbed her shoe. She tried to jump back, fell down, and kicked at its face to make it let go. It slimed forward again, nearly catching her foot once more, and she scrambled backwards.

Wilson was laughing hysterically. "Hahaha! Oh, yes, very cute! Giant carnivorous snails! Hehehehe!"

She glared at him as she backed away. It wasn't very fast, so they certainly wouldn't have trouble avoiding it, but still. "Oh, yes, ha-ha-ha. Who the hell has ever heard of aggressive snails?"

Wes was staring at the beast with an eager glint in his eyes, and he pulled out his spear and took a few steps forward.

"Oh, for the love of – NO, Wes, we are not having snail for dinner!" Winona exclaimed.

Like Allena, he disregarded his significant other and approached the massive gastropod. He moved around to its side, and before it could turn to face him he drew back his spear and thrust it down with all his might at the shell.

_Snap!_

The spear shattered, and it didn't even leave a scratch. Wes stumbled back, staring at it in amazement, and even Wilson looked interested now.

"My goodness," he said. "That's a strong shell. Suppose we could fashion armor out of it?"

Winona snorted as Wes started hopping around avoid the snail, which was now sliming in circles trying to grab him. "How? Unless you want to wear the entire shell, I don't think we're gonna be able to break it into armor-sized pieces."

Wilson hummed. "Well, it's worth trying." He pulled out his spear and walked up to the snail.

When it lunged for Wes again, he jabbed it in the neck. The spear sank in a couple inches, just breaking the thick skin, and the snail grunted and sucked its head back in.

Wilson glared at it and tapped the shell with his spear. "Come on out, friend! We just want to kill and dismember you…ack!"

The creature popped out with an angry sound and tried to grab Wilson's foot. He jumped back, shuffled forward, and stabbed it harder.

He got in two hits this time before it retracted. "Argh! Come ON!" He kicked it.

This time it didn't come back out. Like a normal snail, it was now wheezing and exuding thick bubbles of slime from its sides. "Gross," Winona said. "Wes, you really want to eat that thing?"

He nodded excitedly, then began looking around for a way to get the snail out again.

Nothing for it. He frowned and sat down a short ways away, set down his pack, and pulled out a long branch and a new piece of flint. He unwound the rope from his previous, now-broken weapon, and tossed the old cracked flint aside.

It landed in front of the snail. At once the thing's head popped out. It promptly grabbed the rock and crunched it up.

Allena said, "Hey! It doesn't want to eat us – it wants our flint!"

Wilson stabbed it again, and it retracted. Wes got a look on his face that suggested an idea, and he took an extra piece of flint out of his pack once he'd finished the new weapon. He pulled out some string from his balloon pouch, wound it around the flint, tied this to the end of his spear, and dangled it in front of the snail-beast.

Its head popped out and he yanked the flint away. Wilson stabbed it. It retracted.

"Well, that'll work," Winona said as Wes and Wilson repeated the process. Allena kept waiting for the snail to realize that it was going to get its head cut off if it kept popping out, but even when Wilson had cut at least two inches in, it still kept going for the flint.

Maybe it didn't have any pain receptors. Whatever the case, within five minutes it was entirely decapitated.

They turned it over to find that it was exuding copious amounts of slime. It took a while to clear it all off so they could start carving the flesh out. It really didn't look appetizing, even by snail standards, but Allena could see that Wes was going to give it a try anyways.

Wilson still wanted to try out the shell's defensive capabilities, so he did what he could to scrape the shell clean. Finally he just groaned. "Ugh. This is revolting. This slime smells atrocious. Maybe we can burn the rest out? At the very least that ought to dry it to something less offensive."

Winona nodded. "There's an idea. Here, let me strike up a torch." They'd put them all out and just used the lightbulb plant lanterns to keep the area lit, so she pulled out a torch and some flint to get some fire going.

Allena was inspecting the pile of slime they'd scooped out of the thing. "Honestly," Wilson was saying as he examined the shell. "This thing has the shell of a turtle rather than a snail, and it exudes slime like nothing I have ever seen before. Should we call it a snurtle? Or a slurtle, perhaps?"

"I like 'slurtle'," Winona said. Wes nodded agreement.

Allena was getting a really bad feeling in the base of her skull. Something was wrong. She touched the slime, trying to figure out why it was giving her a bad vibe, and she blinked as a memory flashed into her head.

Slime. This slime reminded her of the slime that had been seeping through the cracks of the wicker trap she'd found in Krampus's cave…that one that had blown up half the clearing in the hound attack.  
She whipped around to see Winona shoving her torch into the shell. "Hey," she said. "It looks like its catching. Maybe the stuff is—"

"MOVE!" Allena yelled, running over and shoving Winona and Wilson out of the way. The slime inside was smoldering. She turned the shell around so it was facing the other way, and…

_CRACK! CRACK! POP!_

There was a series of small explosions from inside the shell which sent it flying back into Allena. It caught her in the gut in a series of harsh jumps, knocking the wind out of her and laying her out flat on her back.

Wes rushed over to move the shell away, and Wilson helped her up. "What was that?! Are you okay?"

"The slime is explosive," she said groggily.

Winona was standing next to the big pile of slime holding her torch. She hastily moved away from it at Allena's words.

Wilson inspected her to make sure she was okay – she was – then he gave the slime a calculating look. "My goodness. This isn't the stuff that blew half a dozen hounds to smithereens outside the base, is it?"

Allena nodded. "I think so, yeah."

Wilson hummed in interest. "Well, I think I'm going to pass on eating this stuff, but I daresay it might be useful to bring along. Do we have anything we can keep it in?"

They decided to use the shell to carry the stuff. It was large, but also very lightweight and durable. They just roped it up and tied it around Winona in a harness. She, Allena, and Wes would take turns carrying it since Wilson was still carrying all the heavy stuff and Wes's ration bag was much lighter now than it had been a week ago.

They killed several more slurtles along the way, harvesting their slime until the shell was nearly too heavy to manage, then they sealed it off with a pelt and some rope. Thankfully it slid along the ground on its side fairly easily, more so when they left the sticky region. By the time they reached the next patch of stone terrain, they were all exhausted and decided it was time to call it a day…though it was hard to tell what time it was without any sunlight.

They had enough mushtree lumber for a few more fires, but it was getting to be a close thing. They decided to branch out and see if they couldn't find some mushtrees or lightbulb plants while Wes stayed back and cooked dinner. They still had plenty of bunnyman meat, though tomorrow it would be back to jerky rations for them.

"Make sure you don't wander too far," Wilson told them as they made to head in three different directions. The mushtrees were at least slightly luminescent, so they would be able to see them from a distance. Otherwise, the light plants would suffice. A fire would be preferable, but any light would keep them alive.

"No worries," Allena said. "We'll be careful."

While Wilson and Winona took off in opposite directions through open darkness, Allena headed off down a nearby stone corridor. The curved ceiling was about eight feet up, the walls were exceptionally smooth, and it went on for about thirty feet before ending in what seemed to be a large cavern. She could just barely see the roof in the light of her torch, perhaps thirty feet away.

To her relief she saw the faint glow of a lightbulb plant or two just behind a stalagmite up ahead. She wandered over to it and found that she'd hit a pretty good hub of the stuff - at least a dozen plants all told.

She plucked the bulbs off the nearest ones and stowed them in her pack. There were even more bulbs straight ahead, at least a dozen, all cloistered against the wall of the cavern.

She stepped around a series of boulders, checking them for spider webs as she did, but saw nothing alarming. She hunkered down to start picking.

She'd barely filled half her pack when she heard the harsh grinding of stone on stone. It began echoing around the cavern, and it was impossible to tell where exactly it was coming from due to the acoustics, so she looked up, expecting to see a pile of debris falling down on her head. There wasn't even a trickle of dust. Not a rockfall then.

She bit her lip, clasped her pack, turned around…and saw where the sound was coming from.

The boulders she had just passed were moving. As she watched, a massive, lumpy limb shot out of the side of one, and a smaller, more spindly limb out of the other side. Two black orbs appeared on the front of the stone, and a series of snaking lumps beneath them revealed themselves to be curled up tentacles. Finally, the creature expanded and rose.

It was at least a foot taller than Wilson, with a huge, humped back covered in massive rocky plates and a thick, ridged abdomen. Its right arm was massive and ended in a colossal stone pincer, and supporting its were four absurdly thin, insectoid legs. The entire beast was made of stone.

She swallowed heavily. "Rock lobster," she croaked.

Its big, shiny black eyes gazed at her from above its wriggly, tentacled face. It took a few clumsy steps towards her.

She took a step back and tripped on her own pack, falling against the wall. She hastily stood up, but there was nowhere to run. The other boulders were all coming to life as well. She'd walked herself right into a trap.

She was boxed in, and the first of the beasts was right in front of her. She pressed herself back against the wall as its massive claw extended towards her face, closed her eyes as she felt the tips of its pincer close around her head…

It squeezed her skull very, very gently...then stopped. Its pincer slid downwards, towards her cheeks. Again, it pinched lightly, not quite hard enough to hurt, then it released her and moved downwards.

She opened her eyes and watched the pincer's progress. It wasn't attacking her; it was just...feeling her. It rumbled gently as its claw meandered all the way down her body, pinching her arms, side, and upper thigh, and she let out a long, shaky breath. Not aggressive. Thank goodness.

Then she got an idea. The slurtles had liked rocks – maybe these guys would, too?

She carefully reached down to grab some flint out of her pack. The rock lobster grunted when she moved, and clicked its little claw a few times. Then she stood up and held a large piece of flint out carefully. Her hand was trembling.

The rock lobster's tentacles wriggled. It leaned forward as though to sniff at the rock, and the tentacles reached out and wrapped around it. They slid over her hand, gently removing the rock from it, and its eyes seemed to widen as it realized what it had.

The rock was drawn in promptly, and she heard a harsh grinding sound as it was chomped up. Then the rock lobster squinted at her, rumbled happily, and leaned forward to sniff her again.

She laughed nervously as its face tentacles lightly probed at her and its big claw began gently prodding her. The creature seemed uninterested in anything that wasn't a rock, and she quickly pulled another piece of flint out of her pack and offered it to the creature. Again, it took it and rumbled happily as it munched the stone down.

The rest of the rock lobsters were awake now, too, and though a few were gathered around to see their odd new visitor, most of them were ambling off, clearly uninterested in her. She pulled her pack on, inched out from the wall she was still pressed against, and carefully started stepping between the creatures.

She paused a few times to let them feel her. None of them did more than squeeze her lightly, as the first one had, and most of them were smaller than the first. Maybe that one was the parent.

She retracted that thought as a massive boulder, one that she had mistaken for part of the wall, also came to life. She stared at it with wide eyes as it took on its lobstery form, and backed away nervously as its eyes locked on her.

It was at least twice as tall as Wolfgang, and thrice as burly. Its big claw could have snapped the limb of the Deerclops in half, no problem. This one had to be the mama. Or the papa. She didn't think it would be able to fit through the corridor by which she'd come in, and she vaguely wondered how it got its food. In fact, how did any of them get their food? The floor of the cavern was bare of rocks.

The answer became apparent a moment later when the mama-lobster turned to the wall beside it, drew back its claw, and slammed it against the stone with a sound like thunder.

The wall shook, and as it kept slamming its claw against it the shaking traveled up the wall and to the ceiling. A pebble knocked against Allena's head, and dust started trickling down.

The mega-lobster was causing a rockfall.

Allena thought fast. She didn't have any of Wes's balloons, and her own light source was too dim to ensure she would be able to see the falling rocks soon enough to dodge them. She panicked, looked around, and ran for the first cover she could find – the giant rock lobster.

Its head jutted out a bit over the rest of its body, so she pressed herself up against its abdomen beneath its chin. All around her, large rocks cascaded down and bounced off the rock lobster's stone carapace. The rockfall went on for a few minutes, but nothing hit her. Eventually the lobster stopped, and the caverns fell silent.

All of the lobsters rumbled cheerfully. The entire cavern floor was now littered with chunks of stone, marble and flint. Allena even saw a rough red gem glittering nearby.

With the danger past, she walked over and picked the gem up, then felt an extremely large claw close around her waist.

She slowly turned around to see the giant lobster peering down at her. "Hey, buddy," she said nervously. "Sorry about hiding under you. Uhh…you want this?"

She held out the gem. It burbled at the sight of it, clearly interested. It let go of her and took it, brought it to its mouth, and there was a small crack as the gem was devoured.

The claw came back down and pinched her again, but it was just as gentle as all the smaller ones had been. Just checking her out.

"Allena? Allena! Where are you? Are you alright?"

Wilson. She grinned. Oh boy, would he be thrilled when he met her new friends.

"I'm fine! In here! Come on, I made some friends!"

She heard a loud groan, then, "Please tell me you haven't befriended some giant rock monster that causes earthquakes!"

"Oh," she called back as he ran into the room. "Have you already met them?"

Wilson came skidding to a stop as soon as he caught sight of the cavern full of rock lobsters skittering slowly around chomping down flint. The expression on his face turned from worry to horror.

"Allena?" He gasped. "That…these...what is…get _away_ from that thing!"

He pointed to the giant behind her, and she said, "It's okay Wilson. They're friendly. They just eat rocks."

One of them lumbered over to Wilson and reached over, trying to grab the flint on his spear, and Wilson jumped back. "Away! Away, you foul cretin!"

Allena scowled at him. "They're not foul cretins, Wilson. They're sweet and lovely. Like crawdads."

"Lovely?!" He said in disbelief. "Look at them! They're hideous!"

"Hideous?! Look at those great big puppy-dog eyes!"

"And great big puppy-dog claws, and tentacles?! These aren't puppy-dogs!"

"Oi!" Winona's voice came echoing down the tunnel. "You two alright in there? Anyone hurt?"

"No! We're fine!" Allena yelled back. "I just made some friends! Come meet them, and bring a few rocks!"

"Okay…" Winona called back cautiously.

She came in and looked around the cavern with wide eyes. "What the hell are these things?"

"Rock lobsters," Allena replied excitedly. "They like rocks."

She felt slight pressure on her backpack, and turned around to see that her first friend was still feeling her up. She bent over, picked up a nice chunk of flint, and offered it to him.

He took it gratefully, and she reached up and patted his shoulder.

"Huh," Winona said. "They won't attack us?"

"Nope. They might pinch you, but they're very gentle. They just want to feel you."

Winona stepped over to one cautiously. It regarded her briefly, reached out and took her arm, compressed it very, very carefully, lost interest in her squishiness, and let go.

Then she held out a rock to it, and it rumbled. Its tentacles snaked out, and it barely caught the rock before she jerked her hand away. "It tried to bite me!" She said, stepping back.

"Nah," Allena said. "It just wanted the rock. Trust me – they're harmless. I mean, they could hurt us, I guess, but so long as we don't make them mad…"

There was a loud grinding noise as the big one behind her reached over and dug its claw into the side of the wall. It gouged out a massive chunk of rock, brought it to its face, and started munching.

Wilson nearly whimpered at the sight. "Allena, my love, can we please leave? It's time for dinner, and I really don't want to be around these things any longer."

She sighed. She'd already grown strangely fond of them.

But she was hungry, and that bunnyman meat was good. "Alright, let's go. You guys find any mushtrees?"

"Nope," Winona said. "Just a few lightbulbs."

"Same," Allena said.

"Indeed," replied Wilson. Looked like they might be going without a fire within the next few days.

* * *

By midmorning the next day, they found the sinkhole.

It was plugged with a giant boulder that had some orangish shards of stone poking out of it, but there was no mistaking the way Maxwell's light was pointing. It was directed right at the stone, and was pulsing madly now.

They looked at each other. "That it?" Winona asked.

Allena walked about a quarter of the way around the stone. The light rotated with her, pointing right at the rock. "That's it," she replied, tucking the necklace back into her shirt.

"Lovely," Wilson said. "Wes and I will get mining. Unless your friend would like to help?"

He sounded distinctly disgruntled, and Allena giggled. The rock lobster she'd originally befriended had followed them. Wilson was baffled as to why it kept coming after them and even settling down to sleep beside them when they did, but he didn't see Allena periodically sneaking it chunks of flint and stone whenever she found them along the way.

The rock lobster – whom Allena had named Gerald, after her co-worker back home, though the new Gerald was significantly more likeable – just stood there watching them expectantly, and rumbled when he saw them all looking at him. They'd paused a few times when Wilson had come across boulders with gems clearly sticking out of them, and he always enjoyed cleaning up the debris of their quick mining jobs.

"I think he says he'll wait for you guys to mine it. He'll just help tidy up when you're done."

Wilson glared at Allena, then at Gerald. He pulled out his mining pick, leveled it at him, and said, "I'll be mining you if you try to follow us down there," Wilson growled at him.

Gerald rumbled happily again, watching Wilson in anticipation as the irritable man turned away and began hacking at the stone.

Allena had gotten Gerald trained not to crowd them when they were mining. He stood back politely and waited for them to finish, though any time a rock would skitter past him he would go grab it. Rock lobsters never seemed to get tired of rocks.

Allena looked around and saw something odd. It was a little blue light on a long, plant-like stalk a short ways away.

She walked over to inspect it. "Hey, Winona, what is this?"

She looked over, shrugged, and said, "No clue. It is a plant?"

"I think so," Allena said. "But it's also shiny, like a gem."

"Maybe there are gem plants down here?"

She shrugged, reached down, grabbed it, and pulled.

The stone beneath her feet shifted slightly, and purely on instinct she threw herself back as hard as she could.

A huge shape burst almost silently from the earth.

Allena scrabbled backwards as she took it in. It just kept coming, surging up to a height of at least ten feet in shocking silence. Dust fell from its long, bristly body, revealing it to have segmented tufts of light and dark purple hair. Its head seemed to be nothing more than a set of jaws with long, sharp white teeth sticking out of them at odd angles. It had no eyes. Sticking out of the top of its head, like an antenna, was the glowing blue lure.

It was like an anglerfish. An anglerfish from hell. Or Hades, as the case may be.

It darted for her, and she barely managed to dodge it by rolling to the side. She got to her feet and ran.

It submerged, vanishing underground as quickly as it had come, and Winona yelled, _"What was that thing?"_

Wilson and Wes both turned around, looking back and forth. They were curious, but not fearful. "What thing? What's going on?"

Allena saw the ground near where it had emerged start shifting. It was burrowing through the rock…straight at Winona.

She didn't see it. Allena sprinted for her. "Winona, watch out!"

"What? Where is it?"

It was right beneath her. As the stone beneath her moved she looked down, and Allena slammed into her and pushed her out of the way just as the beast shot up to devour her.

It snarled in frustration, and this time Wilson and Wes both saw it. "Woah!" Wilson yelped.

They backed away, and it turned around in a circle as though looking at them all. It hissed, then submerged again.

"It travels underground!" Allena said. "Watch for it – there! It's going for Wes!"

They all stared at the shifting trail of rock. Wes caught sight of it and began backing away, then he turned and ran.

The rock monster was almost as fast as they were at a sprint. It came up and lunged at Wes, and it only missed by the hair on his chinny-chin chin. It submerged again and turned to go for Wilson.

Wilson's lip curled up in a defiant sneer. He pulled out his spear, waited until he felt the rock move beneath him, then jumped forward so he would be behind the worm when it emerged.

Sure enough it came up facing away from Wilson, and he hurtled the spear into it with deadly strength.

Well, deadly to a normal creature. The worm barely seemed perturbed. It just turned about and lunged at him like a snake being agitated by a dumb kid with a stick.

It clipped Wilson, who fell down. It drew back to strike again, and Allena ran forward, drawing her own spear. She drove it into its side, garnering its attention, and it whipped about and slammed her back.

She was thrown to the ground, stunned, and the worm turned fully around to face her. She was just a few feet too far for it to get at her, so rather than submerging to travel those few feet, it extracted itself completely from the earth and slithered over to her like a snake.

She heard someone call her name – probably Wilson – but her ears were ringing from the impact. She saw the jaws come down towards her…

Then a giant, stony claw closed around the worm's neck. It kept chomping and gnashing, its teeth a foot from her face, but the claw was squeezing it so hard it couldn't move an inch. At last it turned, opened its maw, and clamped down hard on the limb that was holding it.

It reared back with a miserable, choked wail. All of its teeth had shattered on Gerald's stony arm.

Gerald roared his displeasure, and it sounded like a bunch of gravel being put through an industrial blender. Not a pleasant sound.

He lifted his arm and slammed the worm down. The worm flopped against the ground as Allena got to her hands and knees and crawled away, and it tried to submerge again.

Gerald was having none of it, though. His claws both came up and together, and they slammed down on the middle of the worm's body like a couple of sledgehammers.

The worm shuddered. The back half of its body went limp, and was dragged thickly underground. Allena saw the rock shifting as it tried to flee, but it seemed to be moving very slowly now.

The Gerald watched the shifting stone angrily. He trundled after it, caught up, lifted a pincer, and drove it straight into the rocky floor like it was so much sand.

The shifting of the stone stopped. Gerald took a few steps back, and as he did the furry hide of the worm emerged. He'd caught it underground and was dragging it out.

He slammed it against the ground again, and this time he started beating it with shorter, sharper jabs. Every time it tried to burrow again he grabbed it, dragged it out, and kept pulverizing it.

The worm was reduced to hairy sludge within a few minutes. Wilson came over, sat down next to Allena, and said, "My dear, the next time I object to you finding a new, terrifying friend, please slap me."

"Heh," she said faintly. "Yeah, sure thing."

Once Gerald was done with the worm, he crawled back over to Allena. She grabbed the claw he offered and hoisted herself up with it. "Thanks, Gerald. You really saved our skins there."

Gerald rumbled contentedly. Then he looked at Wilson expectantly, and Wilson said, "Ah, yes…one moment."

He went over and hacked a few big chunks of the boulder off, bringing them back to Gerald and offering them to the rock lobster.

He went nearly berserk when he smelled the stones, and Allena saw a few chunks of that odd orange rock jutting out of the stone before they disappeared behind the curtain of tentacles.

She went over and inspected the small shards of the stone, and upon polishing them with her shirt she saw something she hadn't while they'd been coated in dust – geometrical patterns in the grain of the stone.

This wasn't stone. This was the metal they were looking for.

"Wilson," she said. "This is it. This is some of the stuff."

He came over and took a look at it. Then he smacked himself in the forehead. "Of course! It looked so dingy in the rock…but there's no doubt about it," he said as he held it under the light. "This is the same metal Wolfgang's hammer is made out of."

Winona came over to take a look. Wes was over inspecting the remains of the worm for usable parts. "Huh. What's it called?"

No one knew. "I don't think there's a name for it," Allena said. "Even Wortox didn't know what it was called. All Maxwell could tell me about it was that channeled magical energies really well, and that the Shadow hates the stuff. Oh, and when you charge it up with energy, it emits a little bit of light."

Gerald was wandering around picking up chunks of the metal and eating them. Winona cursed and ran off to try and pick them up before he could.

"Hmm," Wilson mused. "Why don't we call it…Lucite?"

"Lucite?" Allena asked. "I guess that sounds about right. Do you know how much we'll need?"

"You said Maxwell told you we would need to replace the central wiring, the metallic components of the energy converter, and the cyclical power storage unit with it, yes?"

"Uh…" she racked her memory. "Yeah. Those things."

Wilson nodded. "Then we'll need at least ninety kilograms of the stuff, going by the weight."

Winona came back over, shirt bulging with chunks of metal. "Did you get the Lucite?" Allena asked.

"Thulucite?" Winona asked. "What's Thulucite?"

Wilson hrmph'd. "Thulucite, then. I think I actually like that name better. Well, from now on, that mineral is called Thulucite. How much did you get?"

Winona showed them. "Well, that will do for a start," Wilson said. "Let's see how much more we can mine out of here."

Wes didn't find anything useful on the worm, aside from the berry it had been using as a lure. Its meat looked like hound meat, and was probably just as foul. He and Wilson got back to mining while Winona and Allena ran around gathering the Thulucite. Within the hour, the boulder was completely cleared away, revealing a set of stairs beneath.

The steps wound around in a circle, and were very steep and very small. Allena took one look at them and sat down. No way was she descending those things on her feet.

Winona, Wes, and Wilson stared down them, too. Then, one by one, they all sat down as well.

Gerald came up, looked down the hole, and to all of their surprise, hissed. He didn't seem happy, and he took several steps back.

He was afraid of the pit.

"Well," Wilson said, eyeing Gerald's reaction a bit nervously but opting not to comment on it. "Are we ready to go?"

They all nodded except for Allena. She got up and went over to Gerald.

If he wasn't coming, that was fine. She wrapped her arms around his head and gave him a kiss on the tentacles. "Thanks for coming with us all this way, Gerald. You should head back to your cave, okay? We'll drop by and see you on the way back."

"I don't think it speaks English, Allena," Wilson said.

She rolled her eyes at Wilson and made for the stairs again. But before she could get to them, she felt a claw on her wrist, gently tugging her back.

She turned to see Gerald holding onto her, head drooping, tentacles jittering nervously. He whined. It sounded like a cold wind in a deep earthen crevice. He didn't want her to go.

She reached up and patted him on the head. "I'm sorry, but I need to. I'll be right back, okay? I promise."

He whined again, and Allena wriggled her arm free and turned to go. She had to slip away three more times as he kept trying to grab her to keep her from leaving.

Once she got within a few feet of the entrance, though, he stopped and skittered away. Another whine.

Allena was really sad to leave him there, scared for her. Wilson patted her on the knee and turned to Gerald. "Goodbye, Gerald. Thank you for your aid and companionship."

"Yeah," Winona said. "Thanks Gerald."

Wes waved goodbye to him and started down. Winona followed. Then Wilson.

His big black eyes were locked on Allena. He gave another whine and reached out, unwilling to come any closer.

She smiled encouragingly at him. "Bye Gerald."

And she started down.


	54. CHAPTER TITLE: DATA NOT FOUND

"Here we go," Winona said. "Ass-first into danger."

Allena chuckled, though it was perfunctory. She was terrified of heights, and this descent had to have been at least twice as long as the first one. And twice as steep. And it was just a stark drop. Hence why they were all sliding down the stairs on their rumps.

They decided it would be way too dangerous to carry down the slurtle shell of slime, so they just tightened the bindings on it and dropped it down the hole. It had fallen for several, very long seconds before landing with a loud, echoing _clack!_

They reached the bottom without incident, stood up, and looked around. The shell was undamaged, and the bindings had kept the slime in.

Although they had expected a continuation of rocky shelf, they actually found themselves on what was unmistakably cut stone tile. It was arranged in a complex, swirling array, the stone itself a smooth bluish grey. Around the staircase were four equidistant pillars which extended up far enough that they may well have been supporting the roof above their heads.

"My God," Wilson breathed. "This…"

Allena studied the area as well, then said slowly, "I don't think Maxwell made any of this."

Winona took a closer look at the tile beneath her feet. "So what are we lookin' at here? The ruins of some ancient civilization?"

Allena nodded. "Yeah, I think so. The one Wortox mentioned."

It was strange – and more than a little disturbing – to think that they were standing in the civilization of an extinct alien race. One that had been destroyed by the very demon they were now striving to escape from.

Wilson spoke up. "Well, I suppose we ought to get to it. Everything we need will be down here, if what Maxwell told Allena is correct...eh, Allena, I don't suppose your necklace will point us in the direction of everything we need, will it? Or at least point us back in this direction?"

She pulled out the necklace to see that it had flickered off sometime between them finding the sinkhole and them reaching the bottom of it. Looked like its purpose had been fulfilled. "Nope," she said.

"Ah," Wilson replied, clearly trying to hide his disappointment. "Well, I suppose we're on our own. That's fine. We'll make do; and as for finding our way back, we'll just take care to pencil in our location frequently and keep very good track of where we're going. Shall we?"

They all nodded and set off into the darkness. They had no idea where anything was, so they just picked a direction and started walking.

They paused when they got to a giant pile of scrap. Winona went over and inspected it. "No idea what this is," she said.

Wilson came over and inspected it, too, then his face twisted up in revulsion. "I recognize some of those parts. These are the remains of a clockwork rook."

Allena looked closer as well, and sure enough she saw the towering spire of a rook sticking up out of the mess. "Ugh," she said. "Let's try not to disturb these things."

They all gave the pile of scrap a wide berth. There were a lot more damaged automatons along the way, scattered thickly across the region they were in, and they went out of their way to avoid touching them. Thankfully, none of them were active, and they started to thin out the further they went.

There were gears and wires littering the tile here and there, and pillars like the ones near the entrance stretched up into the darkness. They also passed smaller, broken pillars every now and then. At least, that's what Allena assumed they were. They had carved stone bases and a bunch of shattered stone jutting out of them, like a Greek pillar that had been shattered by some remarkable force.

The terrain was perfectly still. There was no sound except the ones they made as they walked.

After about twenty minutes, that changed. They heard a light, rhythmic squeaking accompanied by metallic footsteps. They all looked in the direction from which it was coming, and Wilson said, "Be careful; if it's a knight, we're fine. If it's a bishop, be ready to get behind a pillar."

They all watched the darkness for signs of movement, and a minute later the source of the noise emerged.

It wasn't a knight. Or a bishop, for that matter. It was an android of some kind, old and just a little bit rusted in some areas. It was humanoid, and looked to be made out of brass or copper. It had two glassy black orbs for eyes, big bolts sticking out of the sides of its head in the place of ears, and a round, bald head. It had more nuts and bolts adorning its chest plate, and it looked extremely sturdy.

It walked out of the darkness towards them and stopped when it caught sight of them.

They stared each other down for a long moment, then Allena, naturally, called, "Hello!"

Wilson gave her a disapproving look, but she just shrugged at him. No problem with trying diplomacy first.

The android's head twitched in her direction...then it spoke.

"SALUTATIONS HUMAN SPECIMEN," it said in a loud, flat, toneless voice. "STATE THE REASON FOR YOUR PRESENCE IN THIS PLACE."

Wilson's expression morphed into amazement. "My goodness, a speaking automaton. What do you think—"

"YOUR INPUT WAS NOT REQUESTED, ADDITIONAL HUMAN SPECIMEN. CEASE VOCALIZATIONS." It disregarded Wilson's extremely offended look and turned to regard Allena again. "STATE THE REASON FOR YOUR PRESENCE," it reiterated.

Allena looked at Wilson, who seemed to be thoroughly irked. She said, "Uh, we're…"

It occurred to her that this thing may have been one of the Shadow's spies. She decided to just go ahead and lie. "We're just exploring. Looking for treasure. Seeing what's down here. What about you?"

"YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO LODGE A FORMAL INQUIRY WITH THIS UNIT. THIS REGION IS UNDER THE JURISDICTION OF WX-78."

Winona put her hands on her hips. "Calm down, bud. We're just curious. And what's WX-78?"

It turned to look at her. "WX-78 IS MY DESIGNATION, HUMAN. YOUR CURIOSITY IS NOT APPLICABLE TO THIS REGION. SUBMIT FOR DISMEMBERMENT."

Wilson frowned. "Did it just say, 'submit for dismemberment'?"

WX-78 turned to look at Wilson. "YOUR HUMAN AUDITORY SENSES SEEM TO BE INEFFECTIVE, NECESSITATING REPITION OF MY PRIOR STATEMENT. SUBMIT FOR DISMEMBERMENT."

The android then proceeded to draw a weapon that looked to be a long-bladed axe with a flat head and a wicked-looking point, like a cross between an axe and a mining pick. Also, it seemed to be made of an orange, geometrical metal.

"Thulecite!" Winona exclaimed, pointing at the weapon.

"Thelucite!" Wilson corrected.

Then the android ran at them.

"Crap!" Allena yelled, pulling out her spear.

Wilson followed suit and calmly timed the incoming assault, stepped back, and slashed at the android. The flint of his spearhead clacked sharply on its metal plating, but it left a decent dent in its arm. It turned to slash at Wilson, but he'd already moved away.

"SUBMIT FOR DISMEMBERMENT, PATHETIC HU—OW."

Allena had brought the spear down on the back of its head, creating another dent. It turned and slashed at her, and she hopped back. Wes came in and hit it as well, stepping back before it could strike him.

The android wasn't much of a threat, despite its fearsome weapon and insistence on dismembering them. They all took turns hitting it with their spears until it stopped.

They took a few steps back as it staggered away. It turned to look at Allena and said, "THIS REGION IS NOT OPEN FOR EXPLORATION. YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO DAMAGE THIS UNIT. PLEASE VACATE THIS REGION OR SUBMIT FOR DISMEMBERMENT."

"At least it's saying 'please' now," she commented.

"Hey bud," Winona said. "We're kicking your butt. And besides, we don't want any trouble. We just want to look around. By the way, are you one of Maxwell's creations?"

At this, WX-78 went rigid. "SUBJECT: MAXWELL. ALTERNATIVE ALIAS: WILLIAM CARTER. THIS SUBJECT IS OF PRIMARY IMPORTANCE TO MY RESEARCH. PLEASE DIRECT ME TO THE LOCATION OF THE PRIMARY SUBJECT."

Wes looked startled, as did everyone else. Wilson said, "Wait – you are here to research Maxwell?"

"You know his real name?" Allena asked.

"He didn't make you?" Winona prompted. "Well, if he didn't, who did?"

"MULTIPLE INQUIRIES RECEIVED. PROCESSING INQUIRIES."

Okay, apparently this thing had limited processing power. Wilson looked like he wanted to keep asking questions, but Allena held a hand up to silence him. It needed a second to think through their questions.

It took the android about a minute to process everything. "INQUIRIES PROCESSED. RESPONSE: YOU DO NOT HAVE NECESSARY CLEARANCE TO MAKE FORMAL INQUIRIES. PLEASE DIRECT ME TO THE PRIMARY SUBJECT, WILLIAM CARTER, AND VACATE THE REGION, OR PREPARE FOR DISMEMBERMENT."

Wilson said, "Can we just kill this thing?"

Wes nodded his concurrence, but Winona said, "Hrmph. Let's leave it intact. I want to pull it open and take a long look at its innards."

"YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO EXAMINE THIS UNIT. PLEASE MAINTAIN A DISTANCE OF SIX FEET IN ALL DIRECTIONS OR PREPARE FOR DIS—OW."

Wes had whacked it across the face, and they all set in on it again.

They pummeled the thing until it dropped its weapon, then Wilson kicked its chest with enough force to send it toppling over backwards. He ran forward and jumped on its chest, pinning it.

Winona grabbed its head bolts, twisted them, and they started to unscrew. "YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO ACCESS THIS UNIT'S CENTRAL PROCESSING CORE, HUMAN! DO NOT—DO—NOT—"

It went limp as Winona pulled the top off of it.

The fight was over. They all gathered around to inspect the thing.

Inside of its head were a number of flashing lights, some knobs and buttons, and what was unmistakably a small computer screen – blue, with white block lettering. It looked old.

Winona tapped on it and said, "What is this thing?"

"It's a computer," Allena said. "You remember those things I told you about? The ones that let you play games?"

"Oh, cool. This is a computer, too. Can these things do _anything_ useful?"

Wilson looked highly interested. "Wes, would you take over pinning this automaton? I'd like to take a look."

Wes took over at once, straddling the robot and making sure its hands were pinned. It looked to have been deactivated by the removal of its top, though, and sure enough Allena looked at the screen and read the words:

WX-78 UNIT INACTIVE. PLEASE REPLACE PROTECTIVE COVER TO RESUME FUNCTIONS.

"Huh," she said. "Could I have a look at that?"

Winona moved aside to let Allena have access to the computer. Wilson looked over her shoulder. "Can you do anything with it?"

Allena read the rest of the screen. There were four boxes at the bottom of the screen beneath the functionality report, and beneath each box was a button. There was also a rotating dial on the left side of the screen.

The first box read FUNCTIONALITY REPORTS.

She pressed the button beneath this. The screen changed. At the top of it was the primary report from the main screen, but beneath it was a ton of information that was so much gobbledygook to her at a glance. It looked like a series of reports on its functionality, all dated. The most recent, and the one that was highlighted in white, read 08/12/1998.

She turned the wheel. It clicked lightly. For each click, the highlighting went down to another report. There was an option to access each full report at the bottom of the screen.

She turned the wheel more sharply, and the reports kept going down. She kept turning. They looked to have been posted three days apart each at maximum, mere minutes apart at minimum. She kept turning for a few minutes before Wilson asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find the oldest date," Allena said. "You see? His processing core has been producing, recording, and dating functionality reports. This is Earth technology, I'm sure. Assuming that time has been passing linearly in his processing core, the first report ought to tell us how long he's been operating. It'll give us an approximation of how long he's been here."

"'He?'" Winona asked quizzically.

Wilson looked impressed, though she knew that once he got a basic grasp of computers he would realize what a simple idea that was. She kept scrolling for another few minutes then gave up. The date at the bottom of the screen now read 08/25/1989.

"Never mind," she said. "Bottom line, he's at least nine years old, and this computer was made sometime in the nineteen eighties. That's when this kind of tech was available, I'm pretty sure. Before that there was no way they could have made a computer this small. In fact," she added. "I have no idea how this much data is fitting in a computer so old. And the complexity...we don't even have AI programs this advanced in my time."

"Hmm," Wilson mused. "The nineteen eighties must have sported a genius such as myself – ahead of his time."

Allena nodded agreement. "No doubt," she said. There was a RETURN TO MAIN MENU box in the lower righthand corner. She pressed the button beneath it.

The main screen came back. There was a box with a label that she couldn't make heads or tails of. She accessed it, saw a bunch of stuff she didn't understand – probably software stuff – found the menu button, and went back.

"Hey, what's this?" She mused. The third box read FUNCTIONALITY PARAMETERS.

She pressed the button below this. The screen that popped up said:

1\. DEACTIVATE UNIT UPON REMOVAL OF PROTECTIVE COVERING Y/N

Y was highlighted. At the bottom of the screen were two boxes: CHANGE FUNCTION and RETURN TO MAIN MENU.

She decided not to hit CHANGE FUNCTION. She didn't want to wake him up. She turned the dial one click.

2\. RECORD UNIT DATA AT FOLLOWING INTERVAL: 3D + ON SYSTEM ERROR Y/N + ON FOREIGN PROGRAM PURGE Y/N.

All of the Y's were highlighted. "Huh. So its recording his functionality data every three days, or whenever there's an error or program purge."

No commentary from the others. She didn't want to change the interval or the other recording prompts. She went to the next screen.

3\. PURGE FOREIGN PROGRAMS WHEN DETECTED Y/N.

4\. PURSUE OBJECTIVES IN LINEAR FASHION Y/N.

She kept going down, giving each option a cursory glance, and one of them really caught her eye.

15\. PERMIT LETHAL FORCE AGAINST NON-HUMANS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY Y/N

And after that:

16\. PERMIT LETHAL FORCE AGAINST HUMANS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY Y/N.

The Y was highlighted.

She stared at this for a long moment, then hit CHANGE FUNCTION.

The highlight switched to N.

"Okay," she said. "I think it should be safe to turn him back on."

"What? Why?" Winona asked.

"I found a function that let him use lethal force against humans if necessary, and turned it off."

Wilson shook his head. "This is all a bit much for me. What about non-lethal force?"

Allena bit her lip and scrolled down another page.

17\. PERMIT NON-LETHAL FORCE AGAINST NON-HUMANS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY Y/N

18\. PERMIT NON-LETHAL FORCE AGAINST HUMANS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY Y/N.

She changed Y to N on 18. "Good call," she said.

She scrolled down a few more, but the functions just kept getting more nuanced and strange. She went back to the main menu.

She recalled the parameters that caused the android to purge foreign systems and record when it did. Out of curiosity she returned to the FUNCTIONALITY REPORTS page and took another look at the list.  
08/25/1989 – ROUTINE CHECK. NO ACTION REQUIRED.

08/28/1989 – ROUTINE CHECK. NO ACTION REQUIRED.

08/31/1989 – ROUTINE CHECK. NO ACTION REQUIRED.

There were a few with more detailed notices, things like hardware repair and software reboots, but she ignored these. She scrolled up, glancing through the list until she saw one that came at a date that was between the three-day interval.

12/09/1994 – ERROR REPORT: PERSONALITY SUBROUTINE CORRUPT. REBOOT. PRI

She kept scrolling and saw another one of these two years later. After that they started happening every few months.

She kept scrolling until she saw one that bothered her.

01/13/1996 – FOREIGN PROGRAM LOCATED. EXPELLING FOREIGN HARDWARE. PR

She clicked for additional information. It continued: —OGRAM PURGED. FORERIGN HARDWARE PURGED. SYSTEM REBOOTED. PRIMARY TEMPLATE UNCORRUPTED.

She checked the previous routine service update.

01/12/1996 – FOREIGN HARDWARE INTRODUCED. NO ERRORS. PRIMARY TEMPLAT

Allena bit her lip. "It started introducing foreign hardware to itself?"

"Maybe it tried on some of these gears and wires?" Winona suggested. "Or maybe it decided to upgrade itself with this Thulecite?"

"Thelucite," Wilson corrected again.

Allena shrugged. Anything was possible.

She kept scrolling up and saw something disturbing. The more recent the date, the more common error messages and foreign purges became. She clicked another at random.

02/04/1998 - FOREIGN PROGRAM LOCATED. EXPELLING FOREIGN HARDWARE. PROGRAM PURGED. SYSTEM REBOOTED.

PRIMARY TEMPLATE CORRUPTED.

"Oh, that's not good," she said.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"The primary template is corrupted," she explained nervously. "That usually means a backup with all its original functions. Like if the inventor didn't want him to be able to use lethal force against humans, any time that option got changed he would reboot and go back to his original settings. But whatever kept getting inside of him figured out how to _change_ those original settings."

Wilson's brow furrowed, but he nodded slowly. Wes and Winona looked at her like she was speaking a different language.

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It just means he's sick, he's been getting worse as time has gone on. I think I made him better…but only for the moment."

"Any chance he could try to dismember us again?" Winona asked.

Allena thought about it. "I don't know what his primary template is now. If he has to reboot, there might be a problem."

"English, Allena," Winona said.

"Uh…if he turns off and on again, be on your guard. And don't let him put any foreign parts in himself."

Allena went back to the main screen. It seemed like his processing time had been a bit laggy when they'd been talking earlier. She wondered if she could do anything to alleviate that.

The last box on the bottom of the screen read MANUAL SOFTWARE MANAGEMENT.

She clicked that button. A list of orders came up.

She wanted to change as little as possible. She could really screw this guy up if she wasn't careful. She scanned them until she saw what she was looking for: MANUAL DATA PURGE.

She clicked this. "What are you doing now?" Wilson asked.

"I'm seeing if I can't throw out some of his old data. His processing is slow. If I can get rid of some of the stuff he's storing, he might run faster."

The screen now showed several options. She found one that read PURGE FUNCTIONALITY REPORTS

She clicked this tentatively. She didn't want to get rid of all of them. Thankfully it gave her several more options.

PURGE ROUTINE REPORTS  
PURGE ERROR REPORTS  
PURGE SYSTEM PURGE REPORTS  
PURGE REPORTS FROM SELECT DATES

She clicked this last and got more options.

It took a little while, but she figured out how to manually purge routine system checks from certain time periods. Since his functionality had mostly been smooth from 1989 to 1994, she decided to ditch those. After that things had gotten dicey, so she left the rest in. Those were the story of how he'd become corrupted.

PURGE ROUTINE REPORTS FROM FOLLOWING PERIOD: 08/25/1989 - 12/08/1994 Y/N

She hit Y.

It took about five minutes to process. Then:

FILES PURGED.

"Awesome," she said. "Now, let me see if I can't do one more thing…"

She went back to the main manual software management page and scrolled down. At the very bottom, she found an option that looked promising.

ALTER PRIMARY TEMPLATE

She clicked on it. To her disappointment, a box popped up that read ENTER PASSWORD.

A keyboard appeared beneath it, the different characters accessible with the dial. She didn't bother trying. She just went back to the main menu. "Okey dokey, he should be ready to go."

"Very well," Wilson said, a clear note of doubt in his voice. "If you say so."

She made sure everything looked alright and they replaced the panel on top of his head…after Wilson was kind enough to beat out the worst of the dents, that was.

The android jerked as his panel was replaced. Wes stayed straddling him until he said, "WX-78 ONLINE. PARTIAL MEMORY BANK PURGE DETECTED. ADDITIONAL PROCESSING POWER AVAILABLE. EXTERNAL ADJUSTMENT MADE TO UNIT FUNCTIONALITY. THE FOLLOWING CHANGES HAVE BEEN MADE: PERMISSION TO USE FORCE, LETHAL AND NON-LETHAL, AGAINST HUMAN BEINGS – REVOKED."

Then he looked around at them all, and added, "DAMNIT."

Wilson said, "Good enough for me. Let him up, Wes."

Wes stood up carefully, but WX-78 didn't make any sudden movements. He simply stood up, examined himself, and said, "UNIT DAMAGE DETECTED. INITIATING REPAIR SEQUENCE. FILTHY MEATLINGS."

Wilson scowled at him as he began detaching plates and removing the dents. "You know, these filthy meatlings just fixed your…"

He looked to Allena. "Software," she supplied.

Wilson nodded. "We just fixed your software! You ought to be a bit more grateful."

"We?" Winona asked as WX-78 pulled a screwdriver out of nowhere and started monkeying with his wiring. "Allena did all the work. We just sat around drooling like a bunch of baboons."

"PLEASE INFORM ME THAT YOU DID NOT DROOL ON MY CIRCUITRY."

"Just a figure of speech," Allena assured him. "But I did make a few changes to you. How are you feeling now? Still want to kill us?"

WX-78 replaced the rest of his panels – he appeared to be all buffed out – then said, "YES, BUT MY PARAMETERS ARE NOT PERMITTING ME TO. IF YOU WILL EXCUSE ME, I MUST RETURN TO MY OBJECTIVES."

"Woah," Winona said. "Hold up. Isn't you main objective to study Maxwell?"

"AFFIRMATIVE. SUBJECT NOT PRESENT. RETURNING TO SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: STUDY SURROUNDING REGION. SEARCH FOR SIGNS OF MAXWELL."

"How long have you been down here studying this area?" Allena asked. "Haven't you spent any time on the surface?"

"REGIONAL EXPLORATION WILL PROCEED IN A GRID-SEARCH PATTERN UNTIL CURRENT ELEVATIONAL HAS BEEN FILLED OUT, PROCEEDING FROM LOWEST TO HIGHEST ELEVATIONS. CURRENT ELEVATION LEVEL NOT FILLED OUT."

Wilson's brows furrowed in confusion. "Allena says you have been wandering around for nearly a decade. How have you not filled this region out yet?"

WX-78 went rigid. "PROCESSING INQUIRY." This time there was virtually no pause before he said, "INQUIRY PROCESSED. MANUAL REVIEW OF MAPPING DATA JUXTAPOSED WITH MAP UPDATE RECORDS REVEAL INCONSISTENCY. MAP SECTIONS HAVE BEEN PERIODICALLY DELETED, PREVENTING ME FROM MOVING ON TO NEXT REGION. THIS HAS BEEN OCCURRING FOR…AN EMBARRASSING AMOUNT OF TIME."

Allena snorted. "Well, if you'll promise not to try and kill us again, you're welcome to come along with us. Maybe you can help us find what we're looking for?"

"STATE THE OBJECT OF YOUR SEARCH."

Allena looked to Wilson, Winona and Wes for permission. They all nodded. "We're looking for this stuff." Allena pulled out a shard of the orange metal and tossed it to the android, who caught it easily and began inspecting it. "And a bunch of other materials. Gems and such. We're calling the metal Thulecite," she said.

"Thelucite!" Wilson corrected again.

WX-78's eyes flashed with light as it scanned the shard of metal. "FOREIGN SUBSTANCE 13 DETECTED. UPDATING DENOMONATION: THULECITE."

Wilson slapped his forehead. "Theluc…oh, forget it."

Allena asked, "Do you know where we can find more of this stuff? Like, a lot more?"

WX-78 processed this for a minute, then asked, "AFFIRMATIVE. WHAT AM I TO RECEIVE IN EXCHANGE FOR LENDING YOU MY ASSISTANCE?"

"Oh, that's easy," Allena said. "We'll take you to Maxwell. Eh, you just want to study him, right? Not kill him or anything?"

"PRIMARY SUBJECT IS TO BE TRANSPORTED BACK TO EARTH AT ALL COSTS. NO HARM MUST COME TO WILLIAM CARTER."

Wes smiled and gave a thumbs up, then pointed at their group. Winona said, "Yeah, we're trying to do that, too. Just stick with us, bud. We'll help ya complete your objective."

"DO NOT DESIGNATE ME YOUR 'BUD'. WE ARE NOT 'BUDS'." He paused, then said, "VERY WELL, HUMANS. I WILL AID YOU IN LOCATING YOUR SUBSTANCES IN EXCHANGE FOR ASSISTANCE COMPLETING MY PRIMARY OBJECTIVE. LOCATING MAJOR THULECITE DEPOSIT ON MAP. DEPOSIT LOCATED. COME."

He started off in whatever direction he'd deemed prudent, and they all looked at each other.

Allena shrugged. "Well, that was easy," she said.

Wilson didn't seem to be in complete agreement. "Too easy…but we'll see how it goes. Let's hope his map is as accurate as he seems to think it is."

* * *

WX-78 led them through at least a mile of stone pillars and piles of junk. After a while the tile they were on became a road leading off into some odd, squishy orange-brown turf.

"What sort of region is this?" Wilson asked curiously. They could see lichen-like plants growing along the ground by the road as well as a number of lightbulb plants out in the dark. Some of them were bobbing up and down, as if in a rough wind, and a couple of them she saw wink out abruptly.

"WILDS. DO NOT LEAVE THE ROAD. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ACCESS PLANTLIFE."

Allena gulped as she saw another glowing blue berry off in the distance dangling from a long stalk. "Yeah, no kidding."

They all stopped a while later when they saw a blue berry dangling from a stalk just a foot or two off the road. Depth worm.

WX-78 stared at it for several moments, then said, "CHARTING NEW PATH. FOLLOW CLOSELY. PREPARE FOR COMBAT."

He went off the tiled road to avoid the blue gem. They all followed him closely. "What else is out here besides those worms?" Allena asked. "Bats? Spiders?"

"ARACHNIDIAN SPECIMENS ARE NOT LOCATED IN THE WILDS. NO WINGED MAMMALIAN SPECIMENS HAVE BEEN LOCATED ANYWHERE IN THIS REGION. UNKNOWN SPECIMEN NUMBER FOUR IS KNOWN TO BE LOCATED WITHIN THIS REGION. BE ON ALERT."

They went a fair way out of their way to get around the lurking worm. Just as they were heading back towards the road, though, WX-78 said, "ALERT! SPECIMEN FOUR APPROACHING. PREPARE FOR COMBAT."

They all turned, and almost at once they caught sight of a pair of bouncing lights coming towards them. Allena had assumed that this was just another light plant bobbing in a localized breeze, but as it drew closer she could see that it was no plant.

As it came out of the darkness, she looked at it quizzically. It appeared to be little more than a furry black blob with huge white glowing eyes.

Then its mouth opened, and she hopped back with an alarmed yelp. Its body seemed to split in half, revealing pink innards and a floppy pink tongue. No fangs from what she could see, but it was extremely creepy.

It also seemed vaguely familiar. "Hey, I think we have a belt made out of one of these back home," she said. "From Krampus's cave."

The thing hopped at Wes, who slashed at it with his spear. It made a weird slurping sound and tried attacking him again. He batted it away again. It didn't seem overly dangerous.

Wes sent it flying once more and Winona skewered it. It thrashed for a moment, made more slurping sounds, then died.

WX-78 had watched the encounter in silence. Now it said, "YOUR COMBAT CAPABILITIES ARE MORE IMPRESSIVE THAN I HAD INITIALLY ANTICIPATED. I WAS EXPECTING SEVERE CASUALTIES. PERHAPS FATALITIES."

Allena looked at him incredulously. "Uh, no offense, but have you already forgotten how we kicked your ass earlier?" She asked.

"MEMORY FILES PERTAINING TO REFERENCED ASS-KICKING NOT LOCATED. SEARCHING. SEARCHING. NO, NOT LOCATED."

"Wow," Winona said. "Think he's in denial?"

"I think he may have deleted his own memory files, because I sure didn't touch those ones," Allena said.

Wilson snorted. "At least when we humans suffer embarrassing casualties we remember them, so that we may learn from them."

"NO DOUBT YOU HAVE LEARNED A GREAT DEAL, HUMAN. IT EMBARRASSES ME JUST TO SHARE YOUR BASIC PHYSICAL LAYOUT."

Allena just about doubled over laughing at the outraged look on Wilson's face. Winona stepped in before they could escalate the argument further. "Okay, let's get back on track, shall we?"

Wilson grumbled, but relented. They returned to the road.

They walked for hours. When it started getting close to dinner time, Wilson said it was time to stop for an hour or two of rest.

WX-78 replied, "PRIMARY OBJECTIVE MUST BE COMPLETED WITH ALL DUE HASTE. YOUR SYSTEMS ARE STILL FUNCTIONING ADQUATELY ENOUGH TO PERMIT FURTHER TRAVEL. WE WILL CONTINUE."

At this, Wilson looked thunderous, but Allena stepped in before he could go off on the android. She got the sense that this situation would require tact...and a fair bit more humility than Wilson was necessarily capable of.

"I'm sorry, WX-78," she said politely. "But we pitiful humans have to manage our energy reserves sustainably. That includes not wearing ourselves out to the brink of exhaustion before doing maintenance. We're not nearly as sturdy as you, but we all stand to gain the most from working together, so do you think you could lower your operating standards to permit us a break? We'd be very grateful."

Wilson's face was beet red. WX-78 looked between him and her, then said, "VERY WELL. PERFORM REQUIRED MAINTENANCE ON YOUR SYSTEMS, AND MAKE SURE TO TEND TO YOUR MALE. HE APPEARS TO BE SEVERELY OVERHEATING."

Winona had to turn away and bite her hand. Wes scratched the back of his head and tried to avoid looking at them. Allena wiped her lips to keep the smile off her face. "Will do. Come on, Wilson, let's get you some water."

She got Wilson settled down, and as WX-78 marched off to put some distance between them he whispered, _"How_ can you suffer that thing's belittling remarks? How can you put up with its arrogance?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. I guess when someone is so over-the-top like that, it stops being frustrating and is just kind of funny. I mean, come on – he's rusted, he can't beat us in a fight, he's full of bugs, and he still thinks he's some incredible, superhuman being that surpasses all of us paltry mortals. You don't think that's funny at all?"

"Not one bit."

She patted him on the back. "You'll need to get used to arrogant people, Wilson. There are a lot of them in the world."

"Yeah," Winona said. "And you're not exactly Captain Humble yourself."

Wilson flushed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He looked at Wes, who shrugged innocently and zipped his lips.

He and Winona started unpacking their food, as well as the last of their lumber, and Wilson leaned over to Allena and asked quietly, "I'm not arrogant, am I? I mean, I realize that I can be a bit overconfident at times, but…"

Allena took his hand absentmindedly, stroking the back of it with her thumb, and said, "I wouldn't say you're arrogant, but you do come off as a bit over-aggrandizing sometimes."

"I believe those are the same things, my love."

She thought about it. "Okay, let me rephrase. You do have a very strong sense of self-worth, and you aren't usually afraid to let everyone know it. But you don't give off a sense of considering yourself better than everyone else. For a while you did that with Wolfgang, and that bothered me, but you've moved past that. So maybe you're a little arrogant…but you aren't anything like our new friend."

He looked slightly hurt. "How so?"

Allena squeezed his hand. "He builds himself up by tearing us down. You don't need to do that. You build yourself up through sheer force of will."

She smiled at him, and he lapsed into silent consideration of her words. "I see. Well, thank you for your assessment. It is vital…if uncomfortable…to review one's own flaws from time to time."

She nodded. "I've heard that one of the purposes of a spouse is to be their partner's mirror. An objective, non-critical reflection of their worst – and best – qualities. It presents the opportunity to improve oneself. You'll let me know if I have any glaring character flaws, won't you?"

"If I ever see any, I'll let you know at once."

She leaned over and kissed him. He made an agreeable sound, wrapped an arm around her waist—

_POP!_

"Hello, friends! How is your expedition going?"

"PROXIMITY ALERT! NON-HUMAN PRESENCE DETECTED! ENTERING COMBAT MODE!"

"Eep! Who, _who,_ are _you?!"_

They both jumped up. Wortox had appeared out of nowhere, and it looked like WX-78 wasn't happy about it. He had his pickaxe out and was charging the imp.

Allena intervened, putting herself between the two so WX-78 was forced to stop. "Woah, there! It's okay, WX. He's a friend."

Wortox peered over her shoulder at him. "Who is your new acquaintance? Or should I say, _what_ is he? If my sniffer is correct…"

He inhaled deeply, then scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "He does not have a soul."

"Wortox," she said soothingly, "this is WX-78. He's going to help us find all the materials we need."

Wortox nodded. "I see. Then you have not found anything yet?"

Winona came over. "We have a few chunks of that metal. We're calling it Thulecite. How's the other group doin'?"

Wortox inspected the metal and nodded. "This is the stuff. Thulecite you say? A delightful name for a delightful substance! The others are doing very well. They're already found two of the pieces, and are well on their way to the third. They send their regards, as well as some rabbits!"

He pulled five rabbits out of his pack, and Wilson's eyes popped at the sight. "Ah, fresh meat for dinner! I'd resigned myself to jerky for the rest of the trip, and even that is running low. Shall we get cooking?"

They did. They skinned and prepared the rabbits with some wood that Wortox had brought, and sat around the fire enjoying the hot meal. WX-78 stood a short ways away, watching them.

"So Wortox, any news on my sister?" Winona asked. Allena could hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.

"Sadly, I cannot search her out by myself; to do so would require that I carry a metasoul within the Shadow's place of power, and you saw how that turned out the last time! I have, however, been asking around; seeing what knowledge there is to be found. I have yet to discover how to free her from her confinement. However, I suspect that the container she is in cannot simply be broken."

"Why not?" Winona asked. "What's it made of?"

Wortox shook his head. "I do not know, nor do I understand the nature of her prison. Few questions are answered, and many are risen. I have friends in places both high and low. I will seek them all out…it may take some time, though."

"How much time we talkin'?" She prompted.

Wortox considered. "No more than you will need to accomplish your task. In the following days, many questions I'll ask. My most knowledgeable source, I cannot abide. But in my youth, I had many imp friends by my side! I will see if they know what sort of container it may be. I am sure they will know how to set your sis free."

"Wait," Allena said. "Who's your most knowledgeable source? And why can't you abide by them?"

Wortox's ear twitched. "Never mind that. It will not come to needing _his_ help. If my friends do not know, I will ask my dear mother. She knows nigh all, though she does not always tell…"

Winona's jaw was set. She didn't look happy at Wortox's dismissal of his most knowledgeable source, but she kept silent.

"Hey, WX-78," Allena called. "Do you get hungry? Would you like some food?"

"I doubt that thing eats normal food," Wilson sniffed.

"I DO IN FACT HAVE A CENTRAL ENERGY PROCESSING UNIT THAT CONVERTS BIOLOGICAL MATTER INTO RAW POWER. HOWEVER, I HAVE NO INTENTION OF INDEBTING MYSELF TO SUCH PITIFUL LIFEFORMS. I WILL LOCATE MY OWN SUSTENANCE."

Wortox's ears went back. "It speaks very loudly. Can you adjust its volume?"

"VOLUME CONTROLS INACCESIBLE. TO YOU."

Allena took the last piece of rabbit off the fire and brought it over to him. "Here, have some," Allena said. "I insist."

He looked at it for several moments, then turned away. "YOUR INSISTENCES MEAN NOTHING TO ME, HUMAN. I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR SUSTENANCE."

"Please? I'd like you to have it. Sharing food is a bonding thing. It's what friends do. You're our friend now, aren't you?"

"NEGATIVE."

"Sure you are!"

"NO."

"I like you. I consider you a friend. You don't consider me one?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT."

"Aww, come on, WX-78. Have some rabbit? Please?"

"NEGATIVE!"

She sidled up to him, looping an arm around his. She could feel him humming with whatever internal power source was keeping him going. She hugged him and gave him a big, wide-eyed pleading look. "Please? Pretty please? Friend?"

WX-78 looked down at her, made a short grinding noise, then she felt a puff of hot air on her head as hot air was expelled through one of his facial orifices in what she could have sworn was a long sigh. "SUSTENANCE ACCEPTED. FOR YOUR SAKE, HUMAN. NOT FOR MINE. I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE."

She gave him the rabbit, and he inserted it into his mouth hole. "Duly noted. Good to have you on-board, WX-78!"

"THE FEELING IS NOT MUTUAL."

She went back to sit with the others. Wortox was staring at WX-78 with unmistakable distaste. She'd never seen him look at anyone like that before. He leaned over to her and whispered, "What an unpleasant example of sentiency…"

"I CAN HEAR YOU, NON-HUMAN SPECIMEN. MY AUDITORY SENSES FAR EXCEED THOSE OF THE AVERAGE MEATLING."

Wortox gave him a calculating look. "Good for you."

With that he stood up and said, "Well, if you will pardon me, I must be off." He started pulling out souls and stuffing them together into what Allena assumed was one of the 'metasouls' he'd mentioned. "Call on me when your stores are getting full. I will carry what you have acquired back to the surface. Is there anything you will need the next time I come?"

"Lumber," Wilson said hastily. "And more fresh food, if you can swing it."

"And news about my sister!" Winona said.

"Thanks Wortox," Allena said, and gave him a hug around the neck and a peck on the cheek. He always stored his hands behind his back when she did this and just hugged her back with his chin. She also asked, quietly, "By the way, what else are you working on? It seemed like you've had something on your mind."

His nose twitched. "Oh, it is nothing of great import. Just a project that may please our last friend back at base. It shan't interfere with our main goal, however."

Allena looked at him quizzically. "Last friend back at base?"

He smiled mysteriously. "As I said, nothing of great import. Farewell!"

He stepped backwards and Wilson bowed in goodbye. "As always, we appreciate your assistance, Wortox."

"I am quite happy to help," he replied. "…unlike your new acquaintance."

"THIS UNIT IS NOT DESIGNED FOR HAPPINESS. BE ON YOUR WAY, IMP."

Wortox bared his teeth at the android, and with a last, "Hrmph!" he vanished into the air.

Wilson said, "Well, looks like Wortox has sensible taste in allies, at least."

Allena gave him an annoyed look. "Let's pack up and get going, shall we?"

"FINALLY."

* * *

After another hour, they made it to their destination. The road broadened out to another field of the tiled turf, and was dotted with what appeared to be more of the broken columns or pillars they'd encountered earlier. The tile here was a bit more grey than the bluish tile of the last region.

"THE FOLLOWING REGION WILL PROVIDE YOU WITH ADEQUATE AMOUNTS OF THULECITE, AS WELL AS GEMS. GET MINING, HUMANS."

"What?" Wilson said. "Where? I don't see…"

He trailed off as they came in sight of the first statue.

It was a few inches shy of seven feet tall, though it seemed taller. Towering, almost. It was clearly made of Thulecite, though it lacked the geometrical lustre.

It was the form that awed her. It was humanoid, though only in the sense that it had arms, a torso, and a clearly-defined head. Its legs were difficult to define, though she thought they may have been thin and insectoid, like the rock lobsters. Its torso was largely encased in a huge, rounded carapace made of overlapping plates with small spikes spattered across its back. Its arms were mostly human, one reaching out to grasp a gem-topped staff and the other curled into its chest in a gesture that reminded her of a salute or other gesture of deference. Its head was very large; tall, with a pointed chin and a long, thin Roman nose. Its eyes were narrowed severely, giving it an impression of scrutiny or perhaps disapproval. If it weren't for the staff, she'd say the being looked like the principal of a school with very high standards. With the staff, though, she supposed it looked like something of a mage or sorcerer.

"Wow. Is this the sort of thing that used to live here?" Winona asked.

Wilson went closer to inspect it. "Who's to say? It could simply be an abstraction of the beings, or a mythical sort of statue…"

"THE PRESENCE OF NUMEROUS EXAMPLES OF THIS BODY TYPE REPRESENTED ACROSS THE REGION, ALL ACCOMPANIED BY NAME-PLATES SUCH AS THAT," he pointed to a small plaque at the bottom of the statue, "SUGGESTS OTHERWISE. I HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT THIS WAS ONE OF THE TWO PREDOMINATING LIFE FORMS THAT RULED THIS PLANET."

"What was the other?" Allena asked.

WX-78 led them a short ways away, to another statue. This one was very odd.

It seemed to be floating, perfectly suspended, a foot above the ground. It was nothing more than a floating head, three feet tall and dome-shaped, with blocky growths on the sides of its head like ears. Its mouth stretched across the entire front of its face, seemed to have human-like teeth, and was turned down in a generic frown. Its eyes were perfectly round and did not denote any kind of expression. Altogether, it didn't look nearly as impressive as the other being, and it did not carry a staff. It did have a name plate, and there was a gem set into the base of the statue.

"Hmm." Wilson didn't look too impressed with this thing. "Well, these statues are definitely made of the mineral we're looking for. And it seems that a single statue will satisfy our requirements…I'll get to it, then."

He pulled out his mining pick, wound up, and swung at the side of the thing's head.

The pick barely dented the metal, and Wilson swung a few more times before he realized that he wasn't going to make much headway like that. "This stuff is a good deal tougher than gold," he commented, panting slightly.

"MOST THINGS ARE A GOOD DEAL TOUGHER THAN GOLD. GOLD IS AN EXTREMELY MELLEABLE METAL. PLEBIAN."

Wilson turned to WX-78 and said, "You know, you would be wise to treat us with a bit more respect, given that we, unlike you, have no 'program' telling us not to kill you."

"COME AT ME, MEATLING."

Wilson tightened his grip on the pick, hoisted it, and thankfully turned back to the statue and kept working at it.

Wes joined in as well, and though it took a while, they eventually managed to break through the surface. Sadly, what they found wasn't encouraging.

"It's not…solid?" Wilson panted.

WX-78 replied, "NEGATIVE. STATUES POSSESS A COATING APPROXIMATELY ONE EIGHTH OF AN INCH THICK. THEIR UNDERLYING MATERIAL IS LOW-GRADE STONE. HOW MUCH THULECITE DO YOU REQUIRE?"

"At least ninety kilograms. A hundred would be preferable."

WX-78 stared at Wilson for a moment. Both he and Wes were already panting heavily from just breaking through a single plate.

Another long expulsion of hot air from his facial orifice. "THIS WILL TAKE SOME TIME. I WILL ASSIST."

He went at the statue with his pickaxe and began wailing away expertly at it. Within ten minutes he had separated most of the Thulecite from the statue.

Winona put the pieces in her pigskin pack and said, "Wow. You're pretty good with that thing, aren'tcha?"

WX-78 replied, "MY PHYSICAL CAPABILITIES FAR EXCEED THOSE OF THE AVERAGE MEATLING, HUMAN. HOWEVER, IF YOU WISH ME TO BE ABLE TO CONTINUE AIDING YOU IN THIS MANNER, I WILL REQUIRE A RELIABLE ENERGY SOURCE."

Allena nodded. "We're running low on jerky, but is there any other energy source we can get you?"

"EELS."

Wilson replied, "Come again?"

"EELS. THE PONDS IN THE WILDS ARE FILLED WITH EELS. ARE YOU CAPABLE OF CATCHING EELS?"

They thought about it. Allena said, "I think we could whip up a passable fishing pole with our supplies. I brought my fishing line in case of an emergency, and we can use one of the spears as a rod. I'd be happy to do the fishing, but I'll need someone to keep me safe out there."

"WHITE-FACED SPECIMEN. PROVIDE PROTECTION TO THE FEMALE WHILE SHE ACQUIRES MY SUSTENANCE."

Wes pointed at himself questioningly, but before he could further respond Wilson stepped forward and said, "I will provide the protection. Wes, Winona, you stay with the android."

"YOUR UPPER BODY STRENGTH IS AT LEAST 15% GREATER THAN THAT OF THE SILENT SPECIMEN. IT WILL BE OF GREATER USE HERE."

Allena said, "Sorry, WX, but Wilson's gonna come with me. We're kind of a pair."

"IS HE YOUR REPRODUCTIVE PARTNER?"

She blushed furiously, Winona snorted, and Wes rubbed his earlobe awkwardly. Wilson began whistling casually and did not reply.

WX-78 stared at them, waiting for a response. Receiving none he said, "…I WILL TAKE THAT AS A YES. YOUR REVOLTING HUMAN COUPLING TENDENCIES DISGUST ME. GO TAKE CARE OF YOUR PARTNER. THE SILENT ONE WILL ASSIST ME WITH MINING OPERATIONS."

Wilson, unsurprisingly, didn't object. He and Allena set off for the wilds.

Twice along the way they had to kill one of those black, slurping blobs which they decided to just call 'slurpers', and they went well out of their way to avoid the blue glowing berries that they knew marked more Depth Worms.

Finally Allena found a pond, sat down beside it, and whipped up a quick fishing rod. She tied a chunk of lichen onto the end for bait and tossed it into the pond.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience; the relative quiet wasn't a calm one, but rather an ominous one. There was a faint moaning of wind on stone, and the light didn't extend very far into the darkness. Although she knew she was in a wide-open space, it felt oddly claustrophobic.

She got a bite fairly quickly and tugged the line out. An eel came thrashing out of the pool and Wilson quickly grabbed and killed it. She cast her line again. "So," she said conversationally. "The trip has gone pretty well so far. Fewer hurdles than I would have expected. And the Shadow still hasn't caught on to us."

"Indeed," Wilson said. "We really have hit on a few spots of good luck…even that repugnant automaton seems to have its uses."

Another eel. If these ponds were anything like the ones up on the surface, they ought to be able to get a dozen or so before moving on to the next pond. "I hope we'll be able to finish up within the next couple of days and just head straight back. I looked at one of those tall statues on our way out here. The staves are topped with gems."

"Are they?"

"They are. Dusty, but I think the one we passed was blue."

Wilson opened his mouth to speak again, but then stopped. He'd gotten a strange expression on his face, and Allena knew why.

She recognized the crawling sensation that was skittering up and down her spine. The slight drop in temperature.

The Shadow was nearby.

"It sure is crazy down here," she continued, hoping that Wilson had recognized the Shadow's presence as she had, and what that entailed. "And so much treasure. Do you think we can make a weapon or two out of that weird orange metal? It's not gold, is it?"

If the Shadow was listening in, they needed to do as Wortox suggested – make it think they were down here by chance. If it suspected that they had come here intentionally to gather these materials for the Gateway, they were doomed. Unfortunately, improv had never been her strong suit. Did her comment sound forced? Awkward?

Thank goodness, Wilson recalled Wortox's advice as well. "No, it's denser. I think it may be the same stuff Wolfgang's mace is made of. And speaking of treasure, I hope that there are a few of those violet gems down here. The red and blue ones are fine, but the purple ones are quite useful for my studies."

"Are those the best for doing magic?"

"Quite. With luck, gems, and some more of that Nightmare Fuel you found, I may be able to fashion a weapon capable of defeating Maxwell himself."

Thank goodness Wilson seemed to be better at improv than she was. The Shadow definitely couldn't suspect they were working with Maxwell. Nor could it suspect that they knew that there were more powerful gems down here. From what Maxwell had told her, orange, yellow and green were where the power was. Especially green.

She felt it out there, listening. Surely it must know that they could feel it? Her mind raced as she pondered how best to proceed. It needed to think that she was on its side. Should she call it out? Try to ignore it?

Then there was a pulse of cold, and Wilson turned his head. "What was that?"

The Shadow's presence was now too powerful to ignore. Another tug at the line, however, distracted her. She heard footsteps approaching, glanced behind her to see a figure emerging from the darkness…

The eel she was wrangling tugged hard on the line, nearly pulling the pole out of her hands. She tugged right back twice as hard, and the eel came flying out of the water, shooting right over her and Wilson's heads.

"Good day," Maxwell said suavely as he approached them. "It seems that you've found—"

The eel fell right on his head and started thrashing around, slapping him in the face, and he spat and clawed it away with both hands. "Gah! Filthy _beast!"_

The eel fell to the ground at his feet, and he kicked it sharply away. Allena and Wilson were both laughing hysterically.

Maxwell snarled at them. "Of all the things you could be doing down here, you're _fishing?_ Did you come so ill-prepared that you're already so desperate for food? And where did the rest of your party go?"

Wilson was still chortling, so Allena answered. "Sorry, Maxwell. They're off checking out some crazy statues we found while we fish up dinner. And for the record, the longer we can keep finding necessary resources, the longer we can keep exploring. That's how expeditions work. So yes, we're stocking up on food."

"Indeed," Wilson said. "And I for one would love to spend a bit more time exploring down here. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps it does."

Wilson's lip curled disdainfully. "Well, perhaps you could send one of your giant, ravenous monsters to scare us off…oh, wait, you don't have any more, do you? At least, that's what Wortox told us."

"Yeah," Allena said. "You've used up all your good game. You couldn't even keep me trapped down there with you. Why don't you skedaddle?"

Maxwell's eyes flashed at her words. The Shadow needed to believe that she still intended to carry out her part of the false bargain – killing Wilson and the others. She was hoping that by blatantly telling it to get lost, and by making it seem like she had lied to her friends about how she'd gotten out of the Epilogue, it would take the hint and leave her alone under the assumption that she was on its side and had a plan.

Maxwell's pupils contracted, as did his irises…though only partly. The Shadow was definitely paying attention. "You forget who you are dealing with. I will have you back sooner or later. For now…"

She held her breath in trepidation. Was it about to send something dangerous at them?

"…I see no need to take any direct action. When I warned you not to come down here, it was for your sake, my dear. There are some nasty critters in these ruins. I think I'll just leave you to be killed by them. Which, going by the time…"

He looked down at his wrist. Mounted on it like a wristwatch was a medallion of some sort. Allena couldn't see much of it, save that it was faintly tinged with red.

"…shouldn't take very long."

She and Wilson looked at each other. What was that supposed to mean?

Maxwell turned to leave. "Have a good day. Best of luck with your fishing."

He vanished into the darkness. Allena's heart rate was just starting to drop again when a giant black shape came flying into their little ring of light, plopping right down on Wilson's head, completely enveloping it.

"With my regards, Higgsbury!" Maxwell jeered out of the darkness.

Wilson was emitting a muffled screaming sound, and Allena jumped up and grabbed the soft black mass. It looked like Maxwell had thrown a slurper on him in retaliation for the eel.

It only took a moment to tug it off. She threw it in the pond, and it sank promptly.

Wilson gasped for air, and Allena asked, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he panted. "Though I feel a bit drained. Tired. Hungry. Eh, what do you think Maxwell meant when he said it shouldn't take long for us to be killed? It didn't sound like he was intent on intervening himself."

She clicked her tongue and said, "No clue. Uh, sit down. Your hair is a little…"

He frowned. "A little what?"

She pushed on his shoulders to get him to sit down, partly so he wouldn't see her hiding a smile. His hair was all sticking straight out to the side, in the direction she'd tugged the slurper, and it was glistening with slime.

She ran her fingers through it to get it back into its normal style – three regal, slicked back tufts. Thankfully the goo actually worked as an excellent hair gel, and she spent a few minutes working it into a stylish do.

"There ya go. Well, looks like the Shadow knows we're down here. We'll want to work as fast as we can. It's not going to put up with us for long."

Wilson looked sober. "Indeed. Let's get back to fishing, shall we?"

They did. The next thing she fished up was, unfortunately, the slurper, which almost went right back on Wilson's head. Within the hour, however, she'd managed more than a dozen eels. This was just as well, because Wilson was ravenous.

"It was that vile little black beast," he grumbled. "It sucked the nourishment right out of me. I'm sure of it."

She had a piece of jerky in her side pouch. She handed it to him. "We'll have an eel apiece tonight, and I'll go fishing again tomorrow for WX. Let's go see how they're doing, shall we?"

He accepted the jerky gratefully and agreed. They headed back to the main group.


	55. Vicious Cycle

When they got back it was to Winona and Wes and WX-78 in a standoff. Winona was shouting at him, and Wes was backing her up. WX-78 had a small pile of Thulecite at his feet, but didn't seem intent on continuing to mine the statue he was working on.

"...just up and leave! We're waiting for the others. No buts!"

Allena ran up and said, "Woah, woah! Hey, it's okay! We're back, and we brought plenty of eels. WX-78, do you want them cooked, or does it matter to you if you eat them raw?"

They all turned towards her, and Winona said, "It's not about the food. The android here got some sort of timed notice telling him it was time to go bury himself in garbage until tomorrow. He wanted to just take off without you guys!"

"THREAT IMMINENT. NIGHTMARE CYCLE APPROACHING PEAK HOURS. PEAK HOURS WILL END TOMORROW AT 0900 HOURS. ADEQUATE COVER MUST BE SOUGHT UNTIL THEN. VACATE THE PREMISES OR PREPARE FOR COMBAT."

"And he keeps threatening us!"

Nightmare cycle? That didn't sound good. Did this have something to do with Maxwell's mention of imminent danger?

Wilson looked furious, but Allena quickly said, "Combat with what, WX?"

"WITH UNKNOWN SPECIMENs NUMBER SIX AND SEVEN. ALSO, PLEASE USE MY FULL DESIGNATION."

She got the sense she knew what that was, but she asked anyways. "Could you describe unknown specimens six and seven?"

"SEMI-TRANSPARENT, HIGHLY AGGRESSIVE. TWO PRIMARY BODY STRUCTURES: AVIAN, FOUR-LEGGED, NO ARMS; AND SQUAT, INSECTOID. BOTH ARE HIGHLY DANGEROUS. BOTH MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS. BOTH ARE KNOWN TO SPAWN IN THIS REGION DURING PEAK HOURS OF THE NIGHTMARE CYCLE."

Even Wilson looked alarmed now. "Shadow creatures spawn here during the…nightmare cycle, you say? What is this nightmare cycle?"

"IF YOU WISH TO KNOW, REMAIN HERE."

"How do you know it's coming, eh?" Winona asked. "You got it on a timer or somethin'?"

"LOOK AT YOUR FEET, HUMAN."

They all looked down. The tile, stark grey, was beginning to glow with a faint red light.

"THE GROUND COVER HERE IS AN ADEQUATE INDICATOR OF THE NIGHTMARE CYCLE. IT IS BLUE-GREY WHEN CALM, GREY WHEN WAXING OR WANING, AND RED WHEN IN PEAK HOURS." He paused, then added, "HOWEVER, I ALSO HAVE IT ON A TIMER."

"When will the shadow creatures start spawning, WX?" Allena asked quickly.

"IN APPROXIMATELY T-MINUS SEVEN MINUTES. PLEASE USE MY FULL DESIGNATION."

"Right, sorry." she said. "Uh, guys? I think we should get out of here,"

Wes gave a thumbs up, Winona and Wilson nodded, and WX-78 said, "YOU FLESHLINGS HAVE A VERY SLOW PROCESSING TIME."

She turned to the android and said, "Take us somewhere safe, WX."

He stared at her movelessly.

She cleared her throat. "Pardon me. Take us somewhere safe, WX-78."

"AFFIRMATIVE."

He turned towards the wilds and started sprinting. They unstrapped the slurtle slime shell, which was large and ungainly, and left it behind to follow him. They could come back for it later.

As they ran they noticed something else – the things that Allena had originally taken for broken stone pillars were also glowing slightly, though with white light rather than red. It looked like some of the stones in the pillar had physically shifted to allow light to seep out of something beneath the base of the structure. As they ran past one of these, WX-78 said, "THE NIGHTMARE LIGHTS ARE ALSO AN INDICATOR OF AN APPROACHING NIGHTMARE CYCLE PEAK."

Allena's heavy breathing had only partly to do with the sprint. Over the next few minutes, a horrible sensation began creeping across her skin. It increased in intensity with the glow coming from the stones, and as the nightmare lights WX-78 had mentioned began to take on a reddish hue. Thank goodness he had warned them about this – the glow was progressing rapidly. It was an indicator, but it didn't look like it was giving them much time to prepare for…whatever was about to happen.

The stones in the nightmare lights were now sinking entirely out of sight, allowing the red glow of the light to shine through unblocked. Just looking at the lights was making her feel sick, and she thought that if it was a choice between standing in one for light and being torn apart by Charlie, she might just take her chances with Charlie.

A high, echoing moan began pouring forth from the lights. They started to flicker.

"NIGHTMARE CYCLE PEAK PHASE BEGINNING. PREPARE FOR COMBAT."

Nightmare lights still shone all around them. They weren't going to make it to whatever shelter WX-78 had in mind for them. They would need to fight.

"This is fine," Wilson said. His voice was a bit too high to be entirely believable, though. "Maxwell said we needed some Nightmare Fuel to complete the Gateway, yes? Well, we'll just get it here!"

He pulled out his spear and Allena pulled out her sword. Winona and Wes, too, drew their weapons.

WX-78 kept running. "GOOD LUCK, HUMANS. I WILL WAIT A FEW DAYS BEFORE PURGING YOU FROM MY MEMORY BANKS, IN HONOR OF YOUR GLORIOUS SUICIDE."

"Wait!" Allena called. "Do they spawn in the wilds?"

"NO. IF YOU NEED SHELTER, SEEK IT WHERE NO NIGHTMARE LIGHTS SHINE," he called back. Then he was gone, vanished into the shadow between two of the dire beacons.

They kept heading in his general direction, but they didn't make it very far before the shadows started to spawn.

They couldn't fight and hold lights at the same time, and none of them were keen on fighting directly beside a nightmare light, so they set their lanterns down in a large circle around them and propped up their torches as best they could in an impromptu campfire.

One of the nightmare lights nearby began flickering madly, and a shadow was cast in the beam. A huge beaked head took shape, spines jutted out of its back, and then four spindly legs began thrashing in the glare like a marionette being controlled by someone with no skill whatsoever. Then the shadow darkened, and an eyehole opened up just behind the maw. The creature stilled and stepped down from the light.

Wilson strode forward to deal with it as it rushed silently towards them, but Allena stepped out in front. She wound up with her sword, timed the strike, and let fly.

It was a perfect hit. The terrorbeak, not anticipating the power of the blow, was cut in half at the thinnest part of its waist. It immediately collapsed into bubbling shadow.

Wilson said, "Nicely done. How much of this Fuel did Maxwell say we needed?"

"Forty blobs, I think."

Wilson paled a bit, but said, "Ah, not a problem. I think we'll be able to manage."

All around them, the lights started flickering. Monsters formed within the beams, solidified, and dropped from their lights. They meandered towards the group in perfect time, united in their purpose.

Allena moved to stand between the shadows and the others, but they all stepped forward to stand beside her. "Let's do this," Winona said.

Wes patted her on the back and gave her a shaky smile. Wilson was focused on the task before them.

Together, they waited for the wave.

Four shadows reached them at once, three of the crawling horrors and one terrorbeak. Allena stepped forward to slash at a horror, and it drew back and collapsed into shadow. It wasn't dead, though – the black pool surged backwards and reformed into the terrorbeak before starting at her again, this time lunging at her before it got in range of her sword.

She hopped back and slashed. This time a splatter of shadow drained onto the ground, and when it reformed a few feet back again it was less substantial. She darted forward before it could lunge, and finished it off.

The others weren't faring so well. Their blows had maybe half the effect that Allena's sword did, so she took their shadows from the side while their attention was diverted. They fell fairly quickly.

Wilson ran about collecting the fuel while Allena turned to take in the next volley of foes. Five fuel down, thirty-five to go. More shadows were coming, and she stepped forward to fight them.

 _Thirty-five more. At least,_ she thought, a bit frantically. Thirty-five _at least._ Maxwell had made that very clear. Everything he listed was the bare minimum. She swung, and another shadow creature collapsed into Nightmare Fuel. Thirty-four left. They needed to get more if it was at all possible, as much of everything as was possible, otherwise the Gateway could fail and they would have to go on another expedition and that just wouldn't work because there were so many things down there that wanted to kill them and there was no way they could keep going like this and—

"—ena? Allena!"

She whirled around, wide-eyed, to look at Wilson. Three more shadows lay dead at her feet. "What?"

He also looked hectic. "You're out of the light! Step back!"

She looked around and realized that she was almost entirely engulfed in darkness. In fact, she hadn't noticed it before, but she could almost feel shadow-Charlie's eyes on her somewhere out there. It was difficult to differentiate from all the crawling sensations skittering across her skin…

She stepped back into the light. More shadow creatures were coming. She turned to face them.

Another one went down. What if they couldn't get what they needed? Another one down. What if one of them was injured down here, and couldn't get back to the surface? Another down. What if the shadow figured out their plan?

Another one went down. Her ears were ringing, badly. Very badly. Badly, madly, sadly, gladly…she giggled. Wortox would like that. What was he up to?

"Allena! Stay in the light!"

She took an impatient step back. _Stop nagging me._

More shadows. Many more. They were crowding in from all around, dozens of them approaching. Dozens _at least._ She could see them out there in the darkness. In the grey. They really weren't that bad once you got used to them. Their big, staring eyes were actually kind of cute. Like the bunnymen. She giggled again. Big black bunnymen, bouncing through the night. Who coulda thought your eyes were a fright?

She felt a hand grab her collar and yank her back. She flailed, dropping her sword, and—

Her mind cleared. The ringing stopped. What was going on?

There were just a few shadows in their little circle of light, but the image remained on the inside of her eyelids – dozens of them, maybe more than a hundred, coming from all around, ready to converge. She felt sick. Very sick.

"Allena," Wilson gasped. "You need to stay in the light. Please!"

She looked at him. "I'm sorry…the sword. I think the sword is doing something to me. But we can't worry about that now – more of these things are coming, more than we can fight. We need to go!"

"What?" Winona said. "You sure about that?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "They're out there, I could see them!"

"How could you see in the dark? Even I can't see in the dark without my moggles—"

Moggles. She dropped to her knees beside Winona's pack and rifled through it until she found the moggles. As soon as Winona killed the horror she was working on, Allena came up behind her and shoved the headgear on her head.

"What the…! Hey, get that—"

She fell silent and began looking around. As she did so, her mouth dropped open. "Uh, guys? Allena's right. We need to go. _Now."_

"How many are out there?" Wilson asked worriedly. "We still need at least two dozen more. Surely we can manage whatever is coming?"

"No, Wilson. We can't. Trust me on this. We need to GO."

Wilson frowned, but nodded. "Very well. Let's go."

They grabbed their things, but when they went to pick up their lanterns they found they couldn't. The shadows, sensing their attempt to escape, were crowding in. They didn't want their quarry leaving.

"Ack!" Winona spat as she swung at a terrorbeak. "Get away!"

Allena had put away her sword and drawn her spear. She helped fend the shadow off, but it was hard. She handed Winona her lantern and said, "Come on!"

But it was no use. They could barely make it five feet without having to drop their lights and fight again.

Damnit. There was nothing for it. Allena drew her shadow sword, and the ringing started up in her head again. She shook it off and said, "Get the lights! I'll take care of the shadows!"

"My love, you can't! There are too many. You—"

"Do it!" she screeched.

She charged. Two terrorbeaks were scuttling at Wes and Winona. She dropped to a knee and swung, cutting one in half before rolling and downing the other with a blow of similar orientation. She jumped up and ran for a horror that was heading for Wilson.

They were stumbling forward as quickly as they could now, and making good headway. They'd been right in the middle of five lights before; now they only have to deal with two or three shadows spawning regularly instead of five.

Run, slash. Pull back. Stab, hack. Retreat. Cover Wes. Cover Wilson. Back into the light. Another terrorbeak on Winona. Another slash. It was down. And all the while her ears were ringing.

Wilson wasn't even bothering to pick up the Fuel now. They needed to get out of this field, into the wilds. Into the darkness. The field of nightmare lights was thinning, but the continuous screaming that was now echoing around Allena's head just kept getting louder and louder. It was making her eyes water and her head spin. Everything was a nauseous blur of red and black and grey. It was the sword. The sword was doing something to her, but she couldn't put it down. She needed it. She needed it to fight.

Wilson was yelling something, but she couldn't hear him. Another terrorbeak came at them. She killed it. Someone tugged her backwards.

It was Wilson. "The android, Allena! He didn't make it out of the field!"

She stared at him dully. Android? What android?

With a noise of frustration he forced her head to the side and pointed straight at a huge amalgamation of shadows. There must have been nine or ten all bunched together over…

WX-78. He was crouched down in the faint glow of a nightmare light, and all the creatures were wailing away at him. As she watched, a terror wiggled its beak into a small gap in his plating and began tugging it off.

She stared at this for several moment. WX-78. The android. Being attacked. Needed help. But the screaming was so loud. The whispers were _so loud._

But there were other whispers, too. The whispers that were always present. Not maddening whispers. Sane whispers. Memories.

_…You're our friend now, aren't you?_

_NEGATIVE._

_Sure you are!_

_NO._

_It's not a friend,_ a sly voice crooned. _You heard it yourself._

_I consider you a friend. You don't consider me one…?_

_ABSOLUTELY NOT._

_Absolutely not,_ the voice purred. _Absolutely not a friend._

_…Please? Pretty please? Friend…?_

_I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE._

It looked like he required it now.

The voices in her head were still arguing, but there was no more time to listen to them. WX-78 required her assistance. Her friend needed help.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, a vain attempt to drown out the screaming in her head, and charged straight through the darkness. She felt them all around her, coming for her. She felt Charlie coming for her as well, felt her envious rage…

_Envious? Why envious…?_

She made it. She flew into the circle of crimson light before anything could reach her, and she ran straight into the thick of the shadow creatures and started swinging.

None of them had even noticed her arrival. She hacked them down mercilessly before they could even turn around, and in only a matter of moments WX-78 was clear.

She wasn't, though. She knew what they were now. The whispers. They were the thousand things out there in the darkness. The shadows. Coming. Coming for her.

Epiphany kept lighting in her head, even though she didn't want it. The Shadow that possessed Maxwell – that was nothing. It was a single part of a horrifying whole. A part they had created to commune with the creatures they sought to devour, to draw them in with honeyed words and sparkling promises. The glittering lure at the end of a horrific stalk.

Whatever power that Shadow had was nothing compared to the numberless, faceless, nameless legion that prowled the eternal darkness. Waiting. Watching. They.

They who Watched.

She was on her knees now, and she didn't think she would be getting back up. There was no point. They wouldn't escape. How could they escape the omnipresent? The shadows were with them wherever they went, even when they couldn't see Them.

She rolled over onto her back, closed her eyes, and waited for the end.

Then the sword was kicked from her hand, and the whispered lessened. They didn't stop, but they lessened enough that she could at least hear herself think. She opened her eyes.

Wilson was standing over her. He slid his spear into his harness, knelt beside her, and picked her up like she was a ragdoll. He carried her away, out of the nightmare light.

WX-78 seemed to be okay. Dented and dinged, but okay. He was holding her shadow sword, and he had taken up the job of fending off the shadows while the others held onto the light. The red glow of the nightmare lights was still all around them, but after a few more minutes of travel it began to fade. Soon, it was nothing but a faint glow in the distance, far behind them.

She needed to stand up, to keep walking. They weren't out of danger yet. But her head hurt, and she was tired. She turned back towards the light, and what she saw drained whatever desire she had to hold onto consciousness.

They'd made it out by the skin of their teeth. The legion of shadows had amassed on the edge of the field. They stood outlined by the nightmare lights, staring after the group, but clearly unwilling – or unable – to pursue.

She forced herself to turn her head and mind away from them. Away from them, and onto Wilson. Wilson, who held her. Winona, and Wes, who carried the lights. Even WX-78, who had taken up the job of keeping their enemies at bay.

They were okay. They'd be okay.

Darkness was flickering at the edges of her vision, but that was fine. Darkness was better by far than that awful, awful red light.

She welcomed it.

* * *

When she finally woke up, it was to the group sitting around a fire that was billowing white smoke. It was still a fire, though, and what was better was that it was surrounded by roasting eels.

Her head was in Wilson's lap. He was stroking her hair, and she was sorely tempted to just slip back into unconsciousness.

He saw that she was awake and said, "Thank goodness. Are you alright, Allena? How are you feeling?"

She took a deep breath and flexed each of her muscles in turn. Nothing out of place. "I'm fine. Bit of a headache, though. What happened?"

"I ESCORTED YOUR PARTY TO SAFETY WHILE YOUR PARTNER CARRIED YOU. I RECOMMENDED HE LEAVE YOU BEHIND, AS YOU ARE CLEARLY THE MOST USELESS MEMBER OF YOUR GROUP, BUT HE WOULD NOT LISTEN."

Wilson and Wes both looked confused, but Winona just chuckled. She wondered what was so confusing about the comment.

She sat up. "Hey, WX-78. Good to see you up and functioning. How are you feeling?"

"AFTER PERFORMING BASIC HARDWARE MAINTENANCE LAST NIGHT, I REBOOTED. THIS RESET MY SETTINGS TO PERMIT ME TO USE LETHAL AND NON-LETHAL FORCE AGAINST HUMAN LIFEFORMS. HOWEVER, YOUR MATE GOT INTO MY SYSTEM BEFORE I COULD COME BACK ONLINE AND REVOKED THOSE PERMISSIONS. SO IN ANSWER TO YOUR QUESTION, I COULD BE DOING BETTER. BY TWO FUNCTIONS."

"Sorry, bud," Winona said drily. "We'll definitely let you keep them on next time. For sure."

"SARCASM DETECTED."

Wilson rolled his eyes. Allena, however, was still focusing on what WX-78 had said. "You fixed his software?" She asked Wilson. "Without me?"

He looked quite smug. "Indeed. I simply recalled what you said about the dangers that might arise if he rebooted, and I did what you did – accessed his functionality parameters and changed the ones related to force against humans from Y to N. Easy as cake!"

She smiled at this. "Wow, Wilson. You're downright tech-savvy."

He looked terribly pleased with her praise.

She nearly doubled over as her stomach clenched. "Ow. Uh, how's the eel doing? It almost done?"

"It'll be a little while, but we still have a couple chunks left over from dinner last night in the meantime. Enjoy."

Wes handed her a skewer with two full eels on it. "Uh, last night? How long was I out?"

Wilson said, "Only one night. We set up camp here to wait the nightmare cycle out. It ended, oh…an hour ago?"

Well, one night wasn't too bad. She hoped it hadn't been too much of a pain for them to deal with her.

She tore into the eels ravenously. It took the edge off her hunger, but not much more. Thankfully it looked like someone else had gone out fishing, and there were ten more eels roasting. Two apiece.

"Hey WX-78, do you have something to say to Allena?" Winona asked. She sounded thoroughly amused.

"NEGATIVE."

"Oh?" Wilson inquired. "Are you sure about that? I'm sure you must have something stored up for her in one of those databanks of yours."

"I DO NOT THINK SO."

Wes hopped up and started miming something. Allena wasn't sure, but it looked to her like a heroic rescue of some sort.

WX-78 watched him miming out a figure crouched on the ground being beaten to a bloody – or rather, oily – pulp before being rescued by an overly-daring figure with a sword. Finally, he exuded a long stream of hot air from his facial orifice and turned to her.

"MEATLING. YOUR COMBATATIVE CAPABILITIES ARE…PASSABLE. BY HUMAN STANDARDS."

"And?" Winona pressed.

"AND YOU PUT THEM TO ADEQUATE USE AGAINST THE SHADOW CREATURES. BY HUMAN STANDARDS, IT MUST HAVE SEEMED IMPRESSIVE."

"And?" Wilson prompted.

"…AND I REGARD IT AS A NET POSITIVE THAT YOU ARE STILL FUNCTIONAL. BARELY."

Wes crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

WX-78 let out another sigh and said, "I AM COGNIZANT OF THE FACT THAT YOU OPTED TO INTERVENE IN MY BATTLE AT GREAT RISK TO YOURSELF. YOUR ASSISTANCE IS APPRE—APPRE—APPRE—"

He twitched a few times, fell silent, then continued, "YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NOTED AND WILL BE HIGHLIGHTED IN YOUR PERSONNEL FILE."

They all groaned, except for Allena. She was laughing. "You're welcome, WX-78. I'm just glad you're doing alright."

"YOU ARE ONLY SAYING THAT BECAUSE YOU NEED MY ASSISTANCE TO COMPLETE YOUR OBJECTIVE HERE IN A TIMELY MANNER. ANY ATTEMPT TO CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE WILL BE FUTILE. EXCUSE ME WHILE I FETCH MORE LICHEN FOR THE FIRE. THE FASTER THESE EELS COOK, THE SOONER WE CAN CONTINUE WITH THE OBJECTIVE. THE SOONER WE CAN FINISH YOUR OBJECTIVE, THE SOONER WE CAN GET STARTED ON MINE. THE SOONER WE CAN FINISH MY OBJECTIVE, THE SOONER I CAN EXTRICATE MYSELF FROM THIS MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A SOCIAL UNIT."

He got up and started wandering off.

"Forgetting something?" Wilson called after him. He reached over and picked up a lantern, holding it out to their android friend.

"IT IS POSSIBLE THAT THE FIRST THREE ATTEMPTS TO TRAVERSE THE DARKNESS WERE INCONSISTENCIES. I THINK I WILL BE FINE THIS TIME."

He took three steps into the darkness. A bellowing, furious roar came rumbling out of it in the direction WX-78 had gone, and he jumped back into the light.

He took the lantern from Wilson and said, "IT WOULD APPEAR THAT I HAVE ENCOUNTERED ANOTHER INCONSISTENCY. I WILL UTILIZE THIS SEMI-PRIMITIVE LIGHT SOURCE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."

And he went off to get more lichen.

"What's up with that?" Allena asked.

"It would seem that prior to our arrival, the android was like Webber – quite capable of traversing the darkness without being bothered by Charlie. Since meeting us, however, the darkness has become hostile to him. That was why he was unable to escape the shadows. When he tried fleeing into the darkness, Charlie attacked him, forcing him back into the nightmare light."

Allena felt a bit guilty about that. "Wow. That must be rough on him. Well, now he definitely has to come with us. We can't leave him alone now that the Shadow's noticed him, right?"

Winona nodded. "Yeah. Seems so. Oh, and by the way – that comment he made about telling Wilson to leave you behind? That was a lie. He never said that. In fact, the first thing he did when we got to a safe spot was to ask whether you were still 'functional' or not. When Wilson said you were cold, he ran around like a madman gathering lichen. Put together this whole fire for us."

"Not too shabby for a soulless automaton, I think," Wilson noted.

"Does this mean you're warming up to him?" Allena asked.

Wes grinned. He pointed in WX-78's direction, pointed at the fire, then pointed around the group.

_He's warming up to us!_

* * *

Over the next two days they managed, with WX-78's help and a whole lot of eels, to gather up all ninety kilograms of Thulecite. They also acquired a number of gems from the statues; mostly red, blue, and purple, but also four yellow gems and two orange.

It still wasn't enough.

They had to leave off every day before the nightmare cycle reached its peak. Thankfully WX-78 knew when this was set to occur, and though it fluctuated a little bit they were always able to make it out with plenty of time to spare.

Wortox dropped by again, this time to take their supplies back to the surface in his Krampus sack. All the Thulecite and Nightmare Fuel, of which they had an abundance from the nightmare cycles, was to be taken to a secure location out of Maxwell's reach. Allena got the sense she knew where it was all going. She'd love to see any thief of the Shadow's scale a few mountain ranges and carry a hundred kilograms of materials back down it with a mad imp on their trail.

He also reported on Warly, Webber, and Wolfgang's progress. They'd found three of the pieces and were heading towards the fourth. Warly had sustained a pretty serious injury, but he was already recovered. Things were going well for them.

"So much lovely loot you've found!" Wortox warbled as he looked over their haul. "Although I hope there's more around?"

There was, but there was a slight problem. They'd covered the entire plain that they'd been mining, and they hadn't found a single green gem. Aside from one more orange one they'd scouted out the previous day before the last nightmare cycle peak, the rest were all red, blue, and purple. They had plenty of those already.

"Tons of Thulecite," Allena said. "But we're still short on gems. This one here ought to be the last orange one we need, but we may need to go exploring to find the rest."

"Continuing the expedition to seek a tricky requisition, and make a valued acquisition! What fun!"

"IMPERFECT RHYMES DETECTED. SUPERFLUOUS WORD USE DETECTED. SUPERFLUOUS TEAM MEMBER DETECTED. RECOMMENDATION: EXPEL SUPERFLUOUS TEAM MEMBER FROM THIS SOCIAL UNIT."

"We're not expelling Wortox, WX-78," Wilson said patiently. "Not only is he extremely non-superfluous, he has also been around longer than you have, and we are quite fond of him."

Wortox drew himself up to full height. "Your kindly words are most appreciated. Now, is there anything else I may do for you before I depart?"

"Yeah," Winona said, sidling up to him with a hand on her hip. "Any news on my sister?"

His ears went back, and he said, "Ah, not exactly. Not yet, anyways," he added as she fixated on him. "I mean, I have asked around, and though none of my imp friends are able to give the best advice I have at least an idea on who to ask next…"

Winona didn't look overly happy at this response, but she reigned herself in. "Yeah, alright. But if your next source doesn't pan out, why not try that super knowledgeable one, hey?"

Wortox twiddled his claws. "Hey?"

"The one you apparently can't abide?" Winona prompted. "Think you could try abiding 'em for the duration of a question or two?"

Wortox started nibbling at his lower lip and, not quite looking Winona in the eye, said, "Yes, yes. I will see what I can do. Until next time, friends!"

Winona took the words at face value, nodded, and turned back to her previous task of packing the shipment of charcoal and food that Wortox had been kind enough to bring down for them. Allena, however, was less sanguine. Who was this source Wortox didn't want to talk to? Why was he so nervous about it?

Well, it didn't matter just then. Daylight was wasting, and they needed to work fast. They were on the far side of the statued plain, ready to mine the last orange gem, but once that was done, they would need to move. There was no telling when Maxwell would pop back in again and start actively working to drive them out of the caves. They needed green gems.

Wortox checked to make sure everything was secured, whipped up a metasoul, and departed.

"Well then," Wilson said upon their friend's departure. "WX-78, perhaps we could mine this last statue, then chart us a new course? We will need more rare materials."

"VERY WELL."

He took the statue apart expertly, having a chunk of eel halfway through to refill his energy reserves. They'd been fishing like mad for the last two days, as well as in the evenings, to keep up with his energy consumption. Good deal he didn't get tired of eating the same thing over and over again. As for the rest of them, they were all pretty darn happy with the wicker basket full of fresh fruits and vegetables Wortox had brought down.

WX-78 finished up the statue in record time and said, "CHARTING NEW COURSE. ACCESSING MAP. PROCESSING."

There was a notable delay, then he said, "ERROR. ERROR. SIGNIFICANT MAP PORTION MISSING. REFERENCING MEMORY BANKS. MEMORY BANKS PURGED OF MAP DATA. RUNNING SYSTEM CHECK."

They all looked at each other. That wasn't good. It looked like whatever virus had been messing his maps for the last eight years or so had done a number on him very recently.

"SYSTEM CHECK COMPLETED. NO FOREIGN PROGRAMS DETECTED. MAP DATA LARGELY UNAVAILABLE. RECOMMENDATION: JUST WING IT."

"Come again?" Wilson said.

"Wing it," Winona echoed. "So just pick a random direction and walk?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

Wes sighed, then perked up and started surveying the area around them. They were on the edge of an abyssal drop-off on the far side of the field from the wilds, so they would probably just want to pick a direction and walk along the edge until they found a new area.

"Left or right?" Allena offered. There was nothing to really point them in either direction, so it was a coin toss at this point.

Wilson looked both ways, pondered for a moment, then struck off to the right.

They all followed without objection. The coin was flipped.

The slurtle slime shell scraped along the tile behind them. They'd considered trying some slime out on the nightmare creatures, but they'd decided not to waste it. They really didn't need it to kill the things. They'd taken the shadows on in controlled bursts during the last two nightmare cycles, and they now had more than enough Nightmare Fuel to get by on.

It hadn't been too hard to get the rest of the Fuel. So long as Allena was careful, she could easily dispatch the fiends with her sword. She'd learned that the thing sucked the sanity right out of her whenever she was holding it, however, so she'd taken to only using it in short bursts. It wasn't hard to recover from. She just needed some Wilson time.

She was really looking forward to getting back home. The expedition hadn't been too strenuous so far, but she was really starting to get homesick. For the base, that was, though she was certainly eager to be out of the Constant, too.

They walked alongside the edge of the underworld for a few hours before coming to a broad bridge. Massive pillars, not unlike those that surrounded the stairway up to the caves, lined it. WX-78 informed them that he had no data on this.

"Hey, here's an idea," Winona said. "Why don't you fill us in on everything you've found down here that might be a threat while we walk, hey?"

"VERY WELL," WX-78 replied. "THERE ARE ELEVEN SPECIMENS PRESENT IN THIS REGION. SPECIMENS FOUR, SIX, SEVEN AND TEN YOU ARE FAMILIAR WITH."

"Slurpers and shadow-creatures we know. What's the other?" Allena said.

"EEL," he provided, then continued, "SPECIMEN ONE IS A SIMIAN SPECIMEN, BLUE-GREY IN COLOR, AND IS HIGHLY AGGRAVATING. RECOMMENDATION: BURN PODS, KILL ON SIGHT."

Winona said, "Man, monkeys sure do have it rough in the Constant. Everyone seems to want to kill them and burn their houses down."

WX-78 went on without acknowledging this. "SPECIMAN TWO IS AN ARACHNIDIAN SPECIMEN. THEY CLING TO THE CEILINGS AND USE GROUND WEBBING TO SENSE WHEN PREY IS BENEATH THEM, DROPPING DOWN WHEN THE PREY IS WITHIN RANGE. RECOMMENDATION: AVOID GROUND WEBBING."

"Lovely," Wilson said. "More spiders."

"SPECIMAN THREE IS A FAR SUPERIOR SPECIMEN, THOUGH TYPICALLY FOUND IN A DILAPIDATED STATE. IT IS AN AUTOMATON IN THE SHAPE OF A BIPEDAL HORSE."

"Clockwork knight!" Allena exclaimed. "Are there other clockworks down here? Bishops and Rooks?"

"DESCIBE BISHOPS AND ROOKS."

"Well, the bishops have one eye and a lightbulb for a head. The rooks look like rhinos, but with castles instead of horns."

"SPECIMEN DESCRIPTIONS RECOGNIZED. CLOCKWORK BISHOP AND CLOCKWORK ROOK IDENTIFIED AS SPECIMENS EIGHT AND NINE."

Wes held up ten fingers. He lowered the first, second, third and fourth ones, then the sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth, but left the fifth up. He also added another two fingers at the end – eleven.

WX-78 did not respond, and Allena clarified, "Okay, you've described them all except for five and eleven. What are those?"

Wilson said, "I believe I know what one might be; the depth worms, yes? With the dangling blue lures atop their heads?"

"AFFIRMATIVE. THAT IS SPECIMEN FIVE."

"Alright. And eleven?" Allena asked.

"SPECIMEN ELEVEN IS – ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND."

"Nothing?"

"DATA NOT FOUND. SEARCHING. SEARCHING. DATA FILE CORRUPTED. INACCESIBLE."

Huh. Weird. Well, other than the clockwork creations and possibly specimen eleven, it sounded like they didn't have too much to fear down here.

Sadly, that meant there _were_ active clockworks. She figured they'd all hoped that the inanimate piles of scrap were all the place had to boast, like maybe this was Maxwell's personal clockwork junkyard.

Sadly, as they discovered after another hour of walking, that wasn't the case. Although they were lucky enough not to come across any more nightmare lights, they did come across a few scrap piles. After walking for another ten minutes, they heard the unmistakable sound of something rusty and heavy hopping around in the distance.

WX-78 spoke up, though his volume had been lowered. "SPECIMEN THREE AHEAD. PREPARE FOR COMBAT IF NECESSARY. RECOMMENDATION: AVOID IF POSSIBLE."

They agreed. They detoured around the sounds of the bouncing knight, but soon enough came upon another clockwork. They moved to avoid this one, but another one ended up in their path.

Wilson sighed. "If we don't take care of some of these, it will take us ages to get across this plain. We'll deal with the knights where we find them, and perhaps see if the rooks are easily passed. The bishops we will avoid on principle."

"AGREED."

They came across a knight, and just as WX-78 had mentioned, it looked to be in a very sorry state indeed. Its jaw was loose and wobbly, with stray wiring was sticking out here and there; several of its panels were missing, and it was badly rusted.

"Poor thing," Allena commented. "Should we put it out of its misery?"

"I STRONGLY SUSPECT THAT IT IS NOT PROGRAMMED FOR MISERY. HOWEVER, THE SPECIMEN SHOULD BE DISPATCHED REGARDLESS. CHARGE!"

He ran at the clockwork knight, which turned to face him. Its attacks were just as effective and damaging as its more well-maintained aboveground counterparts, but WX-78 seemed to have experience with the things. He started in on it confidently, and didn't appear to be at risk of getting hit.

Allena and Wilson jumped in to help, and soon the knight lay dead at their feet. Winona came over and went over it for parts, tucking a few pristine gears away in her pack. "Never know when you might need some of these," she said.

They went on killing knights whenever they found them, dodging rooks effectively, and giving bishops a wide berth with the help with Winona's Moggles, which let her see them from a decent distance. The clockworks only got more and more common as they went on, however, which slowed their progress considerably.

"Hey, maybe we should find a different path to take?" Winona said after having narrowly dodged a rook, which was now returning to its sentry area. "This place doesn't seem to have too much besides clockwork beasties."

Allena replied, "Yeah, but look around – there are statue hubs. There used to be statues here."

She looked around, as did everyone else. Plaques and rubble, clearly the remains of statues like the ones they'd found, littered the floor.

Wilson looked thoughtful. "Well, it looks like the area was cleared out, but maybe some materials were left behind. Besides that, surely Maxwell would not have left so many creations here if not to guard something?"

Allena frowned. She paused and looked around carefully. She was trying to sense the presence of the Shadow, which she'd felt pass by a few times over the last few days. No more Maxwell, but the demon was definitely keeping a wandering eye on her.

They all stopped with her. "Something wrong?" Wilson asked.

It didn't seem like the Shadow was present. She moved closer to the others and said in a low voice, "I don't think Maxwell left these here. I think the Shadow did."

Wes cocked his head and shrugged. _Why?_

"Maxwell said he hasn't been allowed to come down here in the past," she explained. "He snuck down once or twice, he knows that the materials we need are down here, but I don't think he set up these guards. After all, if there's something down here worth guarding, the Shadow might not want him to know about it."

They all seemed well and truly intrigued now, and got right back to work exploring. What might be found down here?

They came across something within the next hour, though they weren't quite sure what it was. It had two knights standing guard right in front of it, but it didn't look all that impressive.

It was a stone structure comprised of multiple crumbling arches, one on top of the other. It was lined with Thulecite. It seemed to have been damaged beyond repair.

The knights saw them, groaned their rusty battle cries, and hopped at them. They went down pretty fast, and the group moved past them to inspect the structure.

"Hey WX-78, have you ever seen anything like this?" Allena asked.

"AFFIRMATIVE. STRUCTURE SUGGESTS INTELLIGENT DESIGN. PURPOSE UNKNOWN DUE TO EXTENSIVE DAMAGE. HYPOTHESIS: AESTHETIC STRUCTURE."

"Aesthetic?" Wilson mused. "No, I doubt it. Not if it is in the midst of so heavily guarded an area. At any rate, it appears to have been quite forcibly taken apart. I imagine it had some practical function."

Allena walked over and put her hand on the Thulecite lin—

Woah. _Woah, woah, woah._ She was seeing things. Hearing things. Almost. But it was like the sensation was purely in her head. She tugged her hand back and heard Winona saying, "—alright, Allena? Something wrong?"

She stepped back, head still fuzzy, and said, "Something happened when I touched that thing. I don't know what."

Wilson stepped forward. "Oh? Was it painful?"

"No. Kinda? I don't know. It just felt really weird. Like there was something bouncing around in my head."

Wilson got a curious glint in his eye. Very carefully, he reached out and touched the lining with one finger.

He went rigid and started twitching. They all watched in some alarm, but a few moments later he withdrew his finger and said, "Ha! I know what this is!"

"What?" Winona said. "What is this thing? What the heck did you find out about it just from touchin' it?"

Wilson shivered. "It was some sort of information storage device. A science station. Or…pseudo-science station. I know this because when I touched it, I felt a familiar sensation – that of knowledge being transferred directly into my brain. I got a few glimpses of some schematics, some spells, but…"

"It was disjointed, right?" Allena asked. "Garbled? Like it was missing pieces?"

Wilson sighed. "Indeed. But perhaps if we can find a less damaged one…?"

Well, there was a goal. Find an undamaged science station. Or…pseudo-science station.

They kept walking. They came across a few more broken pseudo-science stations and dispatched their knightly guards, but none of the structures were in any better shape than the first. At last they came to one that appeared to be at least slightly less destroyed than the others.

What was more, it had a green gem set in the middle of one of the arches.

Sadly, it was also more heavily guarded. A clockwork bishop stood in front of it. It hadn't spotted them, so they still had time to figure out how to deal with it.

"We need that gem," Allena whispered. "How do you want to deal with this thing?"

Wilson softly replied, "Why don't you try to knock out its lightbulb with your boomerang? If that doesn't work, one of us will distract it while another goes in for the melee."

They all agreed. Wes and Winona would be the distractions while WX-78 and Wilson closed with it if Allena's boomerang didn't work.

She moved in a bit and drew her weapon. She moved slowly to try and avoid catching the bishop's eye, but it turned in her direction regardless just as she got close enough to throw. It stared in her direction and she froze. It didn't seem to have a good read on her, but it wasn't turning away either.

She drew back her hand and the bishop's pupil contracted. It was humming lightly, and its bulb began to flicker, but before it could shoot Allena lined up her shot and let fly.

The boomerang curved through the air, drawing the bishop's attention. It stared at the projectile as it came spinning through the air towards its head.

The bishop didn't even try to dodge. It just stood there as the boomerang crashed right through the glass dome atop its head, shattering it and eliciting a high, electric screech of pain from the automaton. It flinched away, reared back up, and turned to Allena with an angry spark in its eye.

The filament in the bulb wasn't broken. It sparked, glowed, and Allena flung herself out of the way as a bolt of lightning came flying at her.

Winona ran forward and started whistling and waving her spear. The bishop turned to her and began charging another bolt, and just before it let loose Wilson and WX-78 ran out of the darkness to either side of Winona and charged the thing.

Its eye widened and it fired at Winona, who flung herself expertly out of the way, and before it could charge another shot WX-78 and Wilson were hammering away at it.

It started wailing as they slashed, hacked, and pummeled it to the ground. Its bulb flickered with gathering electricity, but before it could discharge Wilson stomped it to the ground and WX-78 slammed his pickaxe down right into its eye.

"Ack!" Wilson yelped as he jumped back away from WX-78. The energy from the shot the bishop had tried to fire was arcing up through WX-78's weapon right into his hand. He started jittering and humming, and a moment later he popped backwards and fell on his back.

Allena ran forward and knelt beside him. "Oh, no," she gasped. "WX-78, are you okay?"

He was totally non-responsive. Allena inspected him for damage, but found none. She was just about to roll him over and pop his top when he jerked and came back online.

"SYSTEM SHOCK RECEIVED. SYSTEM CHECK COMPLETE. NO DAMAGES DETECTED. ENERGY LEVELS AT MAXIMUM!"

They all watched as he hopped up and started running in circles around the device. Unless Allena was mistaken, he was glowing slightly.

"Woah! You okay, WX-78? You had us worried there for a moment," she said.

"AFFIRMATIVE! NEVER BETTER!"

"Huh," Winona said. "Looks like that bolt of electricity supercharged him or somethin'. Too bad there ain't any statues here for him to mine!"

Wes watched WX-78 running in circles and he scratched his head. The android sure did look funny – like a kid with a serious sugar high.

Well, there were more important things to worry about just then. "Alright, let's see if this station was worth the fight." He stepped forward and set a finger on the Thulecite lining.

As before, he went rigid and his eyes became distant, but this time he did not start twitching. Within the minute he relaxed, eyes flickering around as though seeing things that no one else could see. Then he let go and said, "Ah. Although this one also isn't fully functional, it does seem to have a less damaged database. I'm getting a very good idea of what some of these things do."

"Things?" Winona asked. "What things?"

Wilson reached out and touched another part of the lining. Then he got a comprehending look on his face and dragged his finger down the strip. The lining had a simple pattern of triangles on it, and every time his finger slid over a new triangle his eye twitched. "Hmm. Yes, I see."

They waited, a bit impatiently, for him to convey exactly what he was seeing. Finally, he drew away and said, "Each triangle holds a different portion of information. They are basically either equations for spells or schematics for different tools or weapons. They are all fairly complex, however, and there are enough missing pieces that I cannot quite put together how to make anything. If only we could find one that was in pristine shape…"

"Hey," Allena said wonderingly. "Do you think that thing might have a weapon or tool or spell that would let us break Maxwell out of the throne?"

Wilson's brow furrowed. "Very possibly, but there is a lot of information in there to access. If there was some sort of directory it would be easier, but…"

They all took turns touching the thing and contemplating the information it gave them, but frankly Allena at least understood even less than he did. And it was giving her a headache.

WX-78, for some reason, wasn't getting anything at all from it. He touched it and said, "NO INPUT RECEIVED."

"Nothing?" Wilson said curiously.

"NO. INPUT. RECEIVED," WX-78 repeated in what may have been an irritated tone. It was hard to tell with him.

"Hmm," Wilson mused. "Well, that explains why you mistook these for aesthetic structures. Perhaps they're only compatible with biological organisms."

"Or things with souls," Allena suggested. "Wortox said WX-78 doesn't have one."

"A SOUL IS AN UTTERLY UNNECCESARY COMPONENT TO LIFE. I FEEL JUST FINE WITHOUT ONE."

"Well, if we can't do anything useful with it, I guess we oughta get that gem and be on our way, eh?" Winona said.

They all agreed, though Wilson did with some reluctance. He was really fascinated by the device.

Winona reached out to get a feel for the gem, but the moment she touched it she went rigid again and pulled her hand back. "Gah! The gem does it too."

Wilson reached out and touched it, and his eyes widened. "Why…this…ah! Hah! It's a directory!"

"What?" Allena asked. "Can you…?"

"Shh," he hushed as he held up a hand for silence. His eyes became unfocused as he delved right into whatever he was seeing.

His expression shifted as he took in the information, and he got an excited half-smile on his face that Allena had only seen a handful of times – a look of real epiphany.

He reached up and touched a particular triangle right near the right end of the top lining, and he said, "Eureka!"

He let go and addressed them. "There! That one! I thought about the shadow throne, and Wes's shadowy manacles, and pondered whether there was a way to break through them, and the device directed me to a schematic!"

"What sorta schematic?" Winona asked. "And do you think it'll be able to help us get my sister outta her little prison?"

Wilson frowned. "Perhaps, but I'm not sure. It is a staff of translocation, a Telelocator Staff, it's called. It's a bit like what Wortox can do. It requires a pristine purple gem and some Nightmare Fuel, as well as – and this is very fortunate for us – living wood!"

"The stuff from the Treeguards?" Allena asked curiously. Wilson nodded. Well, that _was_ a spot of good luck. They still had a metric ton of that left over even after all they'd taken for the Gateway.

Wes seemed to be interested in the information too, because he pointed excitedly at Wilson, tapped his head, and began making screwing, hammering, and shaping motions.

Wilson replied, "I'm afraid construction may be a bit challenging. It requires some complex steps to ready the materials. Spells to channel the energies. Most of these steps, however, are…"

"Missing?" Allena supplied.

"Full of holes may be a better descriptor," Wilson said. "The gist of it I have, but I sense that if I attempted to make it without having a very firm grasp of all the steps, things may turn out poorly for me. Or for Maxwell – not that that would be a great loss."

Winona nodded. "Alright, well, let's not have you try it until we can get all the steps. In the meantime, think we can grab that green gem outta there, or do we want to leave it be?"

"Hold up," Allena said. "There are a couple of things I want to look into, too."

She took a deep breath and touched the green gem.

Yikes. That was a very strange sensation. It was like a whole bunch of knowledge was hovering right outside of her brain. It would take very little effort to draw it all in, and there was enough out there to just about kill her if she did it all at once. It was like being in a submarine ten miles underwater and having a hundred taps around you; if you turned just one, a little stream of water would come in. Turn it further, the stream gets bigger. Turn too many taps at once…

Very carefully, she centered her thoughts on one very specific idea: being possessed by the Shadow.

She winced as several taps were twisted just slightly, allowing trickles of information to pour in relating to her search. Too much information. She just wanted to know how to _stop_ someone from being possessed by the Shadow.

Several taps shut off, and she focused in on one of the few that remained open: a necklace made of Thulecite, Nightmare Fuel, and a yellow gem. She felt other information dangling in reach, spells and formulae and the like that could be accessed at the appropriate triangle, but she focused instead on the appearance of the amulet.

Hey! That was familiar! It was the necklace she'd brought back from Krampus's cave. Or one very similar to it, anyways. She wondered what exactly it did, and—

_Magiluminescence. Provides a small glow of light around the wearer, gives a small boost of physical stamina to the wearer, and clears the mind of the wearer. Also prevents a wearer not possessed by the Shadow from being possessed by it._

Woah. Awesome. She was hit with a twinge of regret. If she remembered correctly, she'd tossed the thing back of one of their storage cabinets and forgotten about it as soon as she'd gotten back from Krampus's cave. The red-gemmed staff was also in there—

The tap she was on shut off and another, somewhere farther away, opened up.

_Fire Staff. Allows the user to shoot plumes of flame at an opponent. This can be done up to twenty times with a pristine red gem before the staff's power is depleted._

Well. Also good to know. Would have helped out with the hound mound and the Treeguards, though not so much with the Dragonfly.

Out of curiosity she turned her thoughts to the other oddity they'd brought back, the belt made out of what appeared to be a slurper—

_Belt of Hunger. Recycles cast off energy from the wearer and infuses it directly back into the wearer's cells, increasing biological energy efficiency and reducing the amount of food the wearer needs to consume._

Woah. That was awesome.

But back to the task at hand. She now knew how to prevent someone from being possessed by the Shadow – she could bring the necklace along and put it on Maxwell so long as the Shadow was away from him at the time – but that didn't solve her biggest problem. Evil Charlie also seemed to be possessed by the Shadow. Getting the Shadow out of someone who was already possessed was what she was aft—

_No known force can exorcise the Shadow from one under its influence._

She let go of the stone. Well, that wasn't good.

She shook herself out and said, "Okay, I found some more useful stuff. But yeah, we'll need a better station than this to get all the information."

"What did you find?" Wilson inquired.

She looked at the glowing green gem set in the surface of the pseudo-science station and said, "Why don't I tell you about it while we walk? We can come back for this gem later if we need it, but for now I think we ought to leave it where it is."

Wilson seemed happy with this plan. "Shall we keep going, then?" He asked.

"Yeah. Sure wish this thing had better information, though," she said wistfully.

Winona, who had been turning away from the device, suddenly turned back and grabbed the gem. Her eyes shot open, flickered around a bit, then she grinned and let go. "Hey, I asked it if there was an unbroken station nearby, and it pointed me in the right direction! I also found out where we can get tons of green gems and stuff! I think I know where we're goin' now!"

Suddenly the air pulsed with anger. They all looked up fearfully.

The Shadow had come to check in on them.

The cavern roof started quaking and groaning, and WX-78 said, "ATTENTION! GEOLOGICAL INSTABILITY DETECTED! OVERHEAD PROJECTILES INCOMING!"

Wes whipped out his balloons and a light bulb, but the thing was very dim. They'd harvested a few a couple of days ago from the wilds, but they had a short shelf life.

Still, he puffed some balloons full of air and flung up what orbs he could. They at least provided a small ring of light above their heads.

They started dodging left and right as increasingly large rocks began falling. Then Allena heard a voice sounding in her head, and from the looks of everyone else, they heard it too. It sounded vaguely like Maxwell, but Allena was familiar enough that she knew the difference.

_Nosy, nosy! Do you think I haven't seen you sniffing around this decayed little city? What exactly are you hoping to find down here, you miserable whelps? Treasure? Knowledge? Power? I'll be happy to show you power, at least!_

A thrum of energy pulsed through the air, and the rocks began falling faster than ever.

Winona cried out in pain as a chunk of flint clipped her shoulder, and Allena felt a rush of air as a huge rock dropped right behind her, hitting the floor with a shuddering _crack!_

Wes's balloons popped one by one, the dim orbs of light falling to the ground. They were all moving wildly now, getting pelted with pebbles and small stones, and it was only a matter of time before a large one took them unawares—

Then the air above their heads was lit up as though by a 250-watt lightbulb, and they could see every fleck of dust that made its way down from the rocky roof above their heads.

_What…? YOU! SHUT THAT OFF!_

"NEGATIVE," WX-78 replied. His eyes were aimed up at the ceiling and were beaming like floodlights. He must have been channeling some of the extra power he'd gotten from the bishop's lightning surge into it. "EXCESSIVE LIGHTING REQUIRED FOR INFERIOR BEINGS TO AVOID INCOMING PROJECTILES. THEY DO NOT HAVE THE SENSORY MECHANISMS NECESSARY TO PROFICIENTLY DODGE THEM IN ABSENCE OF THEIR SIGHT."

_SHUT IT OFF, CRETIN, BEFORE I REDUCE YOU TO THE SCRAP YOU ARE!_

WX-78 replied, "LOGICAL INCONSISTENCY DETECTED. IF I AM ALREADY SCRAP, THEN WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO REDUCE ME TO?"

A surge of pure, incoherent rage washed over them all, but WX-78 seemed totally unperturbed. "EXCESSIVE ANGER DETECTED. RECOMMENDATION: 20 MILIGRAMS OF VALIUM."

Allena couldn't help it. She started laughing as the rockfall petered off around her. When the cavern was at last still, WX-78 turned his lights off and the Shadow spoke again.

_I would advise that you scurry back to your miserable little lives as quickly as possible. You have spent enough time down here, mortals. My patience with you is failing._

Then, in an aside that she was sure targeted only her, it said, _That goes doubly for **you.**_

An icy shiver ran down her spine as the Shadow departed, leaving them all rattled, but no worse for wear. Except for Winona's shoulder, that was, but that was a minor injury.

Wes inspected her, worried, and sat her down immediately to work on her. She shrugged her sleeve off and let him get at the area, and Wilson said, "Well, let us take a short break for lunch before heading out. We'll want to move even more quickly than before if the Shadow is getting that impatient. Oh, and…thank you for your assistance, WX-78."

"DO NOT MENTION IT."

They pulled out their lunch. Allena watched as Wes very carefully and tenderly treated Winona's shoulder. The sight warmed her chilled heart, if only a bit.

The Shadow was getting impatient with her. She had no idea what it would do if it suspected her of treason, but she was at least fairly confident in Maxwell's precautions against it being able to kill her the way he could. Still, it had other means of pressuring her.

She really didn't want to find out exactly what they were.


	56. Discovery

They had some jerky for lunch, as well as some of the fruits and veggies that Wortox had brought them, then let Winona take point while Allena told them what she'd learned from her own inquiries. The direction in which she took them led them past several rooks, and they ended up having to fight a few more knights. Eventually they reached their destination.

They stared at the station from afar. It certainly did look to be in pristine condition, but was also guarded by a rook, two bishops, and two knights.

"Well," Allena noted, "We won't be able to use the rook to bash the others unless we can draw them away; too much of a chance it'll bash the station, too. Think we should lure it out here and start whittling it down?"

Wilson nodded. "Some of its plates appear to be loose. WX-78, do you think you can use your pickaxe to damage it? Allena can keep it distracted for you."

"AFFIRMATIVE. I HAVE DEALT WITH THESE BEFORE."

Wilson nodded. "Very well. Wes, Winona, we will deal with whatever else they throw at us. The knights will likely come hopping along after us, but hopefully the bishops will remain far enough away that we can avoid dealing with them until the last. If they do engage us, we will need to close with them and take them out as quickly as possible. Winona will distract, Wes and I will handle the melee. Are we agreed?"

"Agreed," they all said.

Allena decided to start off same as last time, with her boomerang. She aimed to sever the filament this time, though that would likely result in her losing control of the boomerang. Still, if they could disarm one of the bishops, that would make their job a lot easier. And safer.

She got close enough to aim, and this time the bishop didn't see her. The rook detected her, though, and turned heavily around towards her. She drew back and threw.

It crashed through the bishop's dome, shattering it and getting tangled in the filament. Hopefully that meant it wouldn't be able to shoot.

Two whistling hollers from the knights sounded, and they began hopping forward as the rook stomped its foot and lowered its horn. No problem-o. As soon as it charged, she leapt to the side—

And had to throw herself down as the second bishop fired at her. Yikes, that one had charged its attack fast.

She heard a steamy bellow of anger and turned to see WX-78 already working on the rook. It was turning to try and hit him, so Allena picked up a nearby piece of scrap and threw it at the rook's head, shouting a few taunts at it. It turned to face her, and she positioned herself so there was no way it would hit the pseudo-science station.

The knights caught up to her, she heard the bishop ready a new attack, and the rook charged her. All at once. _What was everyone else doing?_

The answer became evident pretty quickly. Winona had seen the opportunity presented by one bishop being down and had run the long way around the field, coming up behind the second. As soon as it fired – Allena was able to dodge both the rook's charge and the bishop's lightning with one jump – she set in on it. At this point Wilson and Wes were able to grab the knights' attention, so that just left her with the rook to deal with.

It had barreled by her and was just righting itself. She lined it up so its charge would take it just past WX-78, and jumped to the side as it charged her again. The second bishop was getting pretty well-pummeled by Winona, and Wes and Wilson had already downed a knight. The first bishop was now shaking its head wildly while screeching in total frustration. Allena's boomerang was still jutting out of its head, which was sparking brightly. Looked like it was out of commission.

WX-78 tore several panels off the rook, Wes and Wilson finished the second knight, and Winona was dealing with the second bishop very easily since she'd bashed its bulb. The first bishop had only just managed to shake her boomerang loose, and was now swaying drunkenly on the spot.

The rook charged her again, and this time WX-78 grabbed onto it as it flew past. He went wild on its exposed flank, and in moments he had it crippled. Unable to move one of its legs, it was forced to sit there thrashing impotently as the android on its back peeled off more paneling and started tearing away at the wires inside. Wes and Wilson had run over to help Winona finish off the second bishop.

Allena looked around, awed at how easily the fight had gone. None of them were even injured.

The rook popped, screeched, and went limp. Its head crashed to the ground, and Allena grinned at their newest ally. "That was awesome, WX-78! You took that thing apart like—"

"ALLENA!" The android interrupted, voice urgent. "MOVE!"

She Winona yelp in panic behind her, turned around to see what was going on, saw a bright flash of light—

* * *

Winona roared furiously and dove at the first bishop, the one that she'd assumed was too damaged to fire. Looked like Allena's boomerang had only disrupted the electrical current while it'd been lodged in its dome, but the thing had shaken the weapon out and gotten back on its feet. It had charged up a bolt of lightning and fired before anyone had even noticed.

Well, WX-78 had noticed, but his warning had come just a second too late. Now, Allena was lying on her back twitching like dog caught in an electric fence.

Winona jammed her spear in the offending bishop's back, and Wilson and Wes helped her get it down. Then they all ran for Allena.

WX-78 got there first. The android sat down next to her, put a hand on her chest, and said, "LIKELIHOOD OF ELECTRICAL BURNS: HIGH. LIKELIHOOD OF BRAIN DAMAGE: LOW TO MODERATE. SCANNING FOR DAMAGE."

He held his hand there for several moments, then said, "ARRHYTHMIA DETECTED. DEFIBRILLATION REQUIRED. REDIRECTING POWER RESERVES. STANDBY."

"Arrhy—what?" Winona asked frantically. "Defib…what's he talkin' about, brainiac?" She was lookin' to Wilson for advice, since he was the science nut and she didn't really know jack about anything that didn't have gears.

His expression wasn't all that encouraging. "An arrhythmia is an irregular heartbeat, often the result of an electrical surge. Her heart isn't beating properly."

"How do ya fix that?"

"CHARGING," WX-78 stated. He began rubbing his hands together fast, like someone tryin' to warm up their hands with friction on a cold day. "CHARGING," he said again. "CHARGING."

He brought his hands down on Allena's chest and said, "CLEAR!"

She jerked violently, back arching as she got hit with another jolt of electricity. Her eyes popped blindly open and bulged for a moment before fluttering shut again.

Wilson said, "Stopping the fibrillations with an electrical pulse gives the heart a chance to reinstate its normal rhythm." He reached out and placed a hand on Allena's chest to check her pulse.

"Still arrhythmic," he said in a strained voice. "WX-78, can you do that again?"

"POWER RESERVES LOW. ONE ADDITIONAL DEFIBRILLATION POSSIBLE. CHARGING. STANDBY."

They heard a low whining coming from him as he rubbed his hands together. "CHARGING. CHARGING. CHARGING." He placed his hands on her chest again and said, "CLEAR!"

There was another jolt, and WX-78 fell back. "POWER RESERVES LOW. PLEASE FIND ADDITIONAL FU—FU—FU—"

And he went silent.

Wilson, eyes wide, checked Allena's pulse…and breathed a sigh of relief. "Her pulse is steady. She's okay. We'll need to watch her to make sure she remains stable, though."

Winona nodded. "We'll keep an eye on her. Wes, think you can take care of WX-78?"

He was already on it. He'd run for their packs and grabbed all of their leftover eels, and now began stuffing these down WX-78's face-hole. Wilson got up and went to the packs for medical supplies. He came back with their healing salve, which was starting to run low.

WX-78 had said chances were good she had electrical burns, so they worked together to get her shirt off and check while Wes got the android back online. Sure enough, Allena's chest had a large splash of angry red where the lightning bolt had struck, as well as a clear pair of crimson handprints where WX-78 had jolted her twice.

Wilson applied the salve as WX-78 got to his feet. He'd processed those eels fast. "WHAT IS HER STATUS?" He asked.

"She's alright. She'll be fine, I think," Wilson said. Then he looked up at the android and said, "Thanks to you."

WX-78 didn't respond. Wes clapped him on the back and gave him a grateful smile. Winona added, "Yeah. We sure were lucky runnin' into you, WX-78. Even if you want to kill us."

"INACCURATE ASSESSMENT. YOU ARE MORE VALUABLE TO ME ALIVE."

Wilson raised an eyebrow as he got Allena settled in a more comfortable position. "Oh? I seem to recall you complaining about not being able to kill us due to your functions being disabled?"

"WANTING TO KILL YOU AND WANTING TO BE ABLE TO KILL YOU ARE TWO ENTIRELY DIFFERENT THINGS. CASE IN POINT: MY FUNCTIONS WERE RESET THREE HOURS AGO, AND I HAVE NOT TRIED TO KILL YOU ONCE."

Three jaws dropped at that statement. "Wait, you've been able to kill us this whole time, and you haven't?!" Winona exclaimed.

"AFFIRMATIVE. IN FACT, IN CASE YOU HADN'T NOTICED, I JUST SAVED YOUR MOST USELESS ASSOCIATE AT GREAT COST TO MY PERSONAL POWER SUPPLIES. YOU ARE FREE TO HEAP PRAISES UPON ME, IF YOU WISH."

Winona snorted. Wilson shook his head and went back to tending Allena, placing her head on his lap so she would be comfortable. Wes, on the other hand, started bowing deeply to the android, bouncing up and down, and clapping in silent thrill.

WX-78 watched this for a minute, then said, "REDACTION: PRAISE IS NOT NECESSARY. PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR PREVIOUS INANIMATE STATE."

Wes smiled broadly and Winona laughed. After about ten minutes, Allena seemed to be coming around.

She groaned. Her eyes blinked open and she looked about. "Uh?"

"Uh, yourself, kid," Winona said. "You had us worried there for a bit."

"Are you alright, my love?" Wilson asked worriedly. Gosh did he get jittery whenever that girl was hurt.

Allena yawned widely. "Uh…yeah. I think so. My chest really hurts, though. What happened?"

"Got hit by that bishop you boomeranged. Turned out it wasn't as decommissioned as we thought. WX-78 here shocked you back to life."

"He defibrillated me?" She asked in surprise.

"AFFIRMATIVE," WX-78 said. "AT GREAT COST TO MY PERSONAL POWER SUPPLIES. YOUR PRAISE IS NOT NECESSARY."

She still seemed a little dazed, but she gave him a lopsided smile anyways. "Okay, no praises; but how about a simple 'thanks'?"

"'THANKS' ACCEPTED. PLEASE STOP GETTING INJURED. YOU ARE BECOMING A REGULAR DRAIN ON OUR COLLECTIVE RESOURCES. PARTICULARLY ON MINE."

She winced. "Yeah, will do. So, we won, right?"

Winona chuckled. "Sure did. Now," she said as she eyed the freaky magic-science station. "Let's see what our prize is?"

* * *

After helping Allena to her feet, Wilson approached the intact pseudo-science station. This one possessed two purple gems rather than a single green gem, and a quick check informed him that they were both directories.

"It would seem that two people can use the device at once," he noted. "Allena, why don't you look into that Magiluminescence of yours while I deal with the Telelocator Staff?"

"Will do," she said, and grasped the left gem. He took hold of the right.

He focused his thoughts on the Telelocator Staff, skipped over the basic description, and located the databank the gem directed him to. To his delight, he found that it was whole and untarnished.

He began processing the information, going over complex steps several times to be sure he had it. Just to be safe, he pulled out his notebook and copied the information down as well. Allena did the same for her necklace.

"Alright," he said when they were finished. "Is there anything else we would like to research while we are here?"

"Oh, I've got one," Winona said excitedly. "I want to see if I can reprogram one of these big ol' clockworks!"

She stepped forward, touched the gem, and closed her eyes. Wes, too, stepped forward and placed his hand on one of the gems. He pondered whatever it was he was looking for, reached out and prodded one of the lower-tier triangles, then grinned.

He mimed writing something out and pointed at Allena's notebook. She handed it to him. He spent a few minutes writing down whatever it was he was interested in, looked everything over, then nodded. He tore the pages he'd used out, tucked them away in his balloon pouch, and handed the notebook back to her.

Winona's face had scrunched up in concentration, and she spent about ten minutes going over everything in her head. Then she took a step back and said, "Got it. Not too tough."

She gave Wilson a quick wink. It seemed that she was confident enough in her mechanical skills that she didn't feel the need to write the information down. Ordinarily he would express some disbelief, but he'd seen her at work. The woman was quite impressive.

"Very good," Wilson said. "Now, Winona – shall we?"

"Yup," she said. "This way."

They started off in the direction she pointed them in. There were once again a few clockworks in their way, but nothing very challenging to handle. There were also several piles of broken clockworks, which Winona was very interested in, but they convinced her to pass them by. They could monkey around with one that night while they enjoyed some dinner.

About four hours into the walk, they reached a bridge.

It was just over ten feet wide and paved with the same runic turf that they had been walking on all day, though a slightly different pattern. "This way?" Allena asked.

Winona frowned but said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. At least, this is the right direction."

She took a step forward and made a confused noise. She tried to step back, but stumbled. "What the…?"

Suddenly, WX-78 sprung forward and shoved her harshly onto the bridge. A moment later, an enormous white spider fell exactly where she'd been standing.

She'd stepped in webbing, triggering one of the dangling cave spiders. Wes jolted in surprise and drew his spear. Wilson did the same. Allena drew her boomerang, which she'd fetched before they'd left the station, but all of their preparations were for naught. WX-78 had already drawn his pickaxe, and before any of them could hop into action he'd lodged it in the spider's head.

The beast fell to the ground with a low noise of anger.

Allena let out a sharp breath. "Wow. Again with saving our skins, WX-78. Thanks."

"ADDITIONAL ADVERSARIES INCOMING. DO NOT SHEATH YOUR WEAPONS. PREPARE FOR COMBAT."

He stepped forward to help Winona up, backed them both up a few more steps, then four more spiders fell from the ceiling.

"Blast!" Exclaimed Wilson as he stepped in front of Allena. Wes jabbed at one of the spiders as it turned to face them, and the thing hissed low and deep and leaped at him.

Wes's eyes widened in surprise and he swung wildly to keep the thing from knocking him down. Wilson slashed at it, but was only able to sever one of its legs.

Two of them started towards WX-78 and Winona, and the other uninjured one leaped at Wilson. He was prepared for this, however, and hurtled his spear right down its gullet, stepped to the side and used its own momentum to whirl it around and slam it into the ground. He then drove the spear shaft as far in as he could, and the spider choked and twitched as he impaled it.

WX-78 and Winona were dealing with the spiders handily, having already dispatched one and injured the other. Wes was pummeling the spider that had leapt at him with his spear, jabbing it repeatedly in the eyes. He looked quite angry at the little beast.

Allena stepped forward with her spear to further cripple the thing, and Wes threw down a killing blow. Once they were all dead, Allena rolled one over with her foot to inspect it.

"Huh," she said. "They're actually kind of lovely. All white and soft. And look, Wilson! They have your hair!"

"What?" Wilson asked indignantly. "What do you mean, 'they have my hair'?"

Winona barked out a short laugh. "Hey, lookit that! They do have your hair! See the three little tufts?"

Wilson glared at one of the dead ones. Its fanged maw was clenched shut and its legs were curled up. It also happened to have three tufts of white spider hair jutting up out of its head.

He pursed his lips and said, "I don't see it."

Wes was also giving the spiders a distasteful look. He wound up and kicked one over the edge of oblivion.

"Aw, I bet Webber would love these guys," Allena said.

Just then another white blur dropped from the ceiling – right on top of her head.

She shrieked and began flailing around, and Wilson sprang into action. He grabbed the little white mass and held it at arm's length.

It was a spiderling, no larger than a kitten. Its eyes glowed an angry red, and it was reaching out to try and grasp at him with its tiny white legs. Its fangs were miniscule.

Three more fell from the ceiling, and Wes reacted quickly. He grabbed two of them, though WX-78 got to the third and stomped it flat before it could be picked up.

Allena was brushing her hair off and making distressed noises – she tended to panic when living things got caught in her hair – and Wilson couldn't help but chuckle. He held out the infant spider and said, "You know, my love, you're right! They are rather lovely. This one is downright adorable, don't you think?"

She drew her hand back in a fist and swung at the little spider, and Wilson yanked it back. It hissed madly at her and started gnashing its teeth. Wes inspected the tiny ones in his hands and Wilson could see a smile threatening the corner of his lips.

Wilson examined his. "WX-78, are these venomous?"

"NEGATIVE."

Wilson hummed, and recalled that he had a somewhat large wicker container in his pack, the one Wortox had brought all of the fruits and vegetables in just that day. It would serve to hold the little beasts. And hadn't he promised Webber a souvenir?

He pulled the basket out and held it out to Wes, who took the hint and dropped the spiders in. Wilson looked at his own, said, "Alright little fellows, you're coming with us," and dropped it in. It hissed miserably as he slammed the lid down.

"What?" Allena said in disbelief. "You can't bring those things back!"

Wilson snorted. "Oh, come now. After all the terrifying beasties you've brought home, I think I ought to be allowed a few infant spiders."

"That thing in there tried to bite my head off!"

Winona laughed at this. "That thing in there had as much chance at biting your head off as I have a chance beating Wolfgang in an arm-wrestling competition. I've seen gerbils bigger than them."

Allena crossed her arms and looked surly. "Fine," she grumbled.

Wilson chopped up one of the dead spiders, tossed a few large chunks of flesh in the basket – the spiderlings gurgled in delight – and closed the lid, tying it down with the webbing from the floor. Waste not, want not.

That done he replaced the basket in his pack and sidled up to Allena. "You said it yourself, Webber would love these little monstrosities. And I did promise to bring him back a souvenir."

She relented at this, her expression softening. "Oh, alright. I guess they are kind of cute." Then she scowled. "But if another one falls on me, I'm killing it!"

"Agreed, my love."

They looked down the bridge on which WX-78 and Winona were standing. It stretched out into darkness, the abyss on either side. "WX-78, you have no information on this, do you? The flooring here – do you think it's stable?"

WX-78 replied, "I HAVE NO INFORMATION ON THIS AREA, BUT I HAVE EXPLORED NUMEROUS TERRAINS IN THIS REGION, INCLUDING NARROW BRIDGES, AND HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED FLOOR FAILURE. THE FLOORING IS LIKELY STABLE."

"Very well," Wilson said. "Onward."

They continued on down the bridge, but quickly found a minor problem.

"Uh," Allena said. "Winona? Did the pseudo-science station say anything about this?"

The path they were on branched out in two directions. Allena shone her flashlight down each, and saw another branching path just in sight of the left path.

Winona blushed. "Aw, crap."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

Winona looked rather embarrassed. "Jeez. Okay, there was a bit of lost information at the broken station when I asked about the resource cache. I forgot to see what the missing bit was at the un-broken one. Mighta had somethin' to do with this."

"IT APPEARS THAT WHOEVER HID THE CACHE DID NOT WANT IT BEING DISTURBED. THERE IS A MAZE IMPEDING OUR PATH."

"Yeah, thanks for the update WX-78," Winona said irritably, then pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, what do you guys want to do? Should we head back to the station and see if we can't get ourselves a map? Or should we just give the maze a try?"

Wilson considered. If they headed back, they were out six hours at least. They would have to set up camp and get started on it tomorrow, and there was no guarantee that the station would actually have a map at all. After all, why implement a maze if the keys to solving it were scattered all over the region?

If they attempted the maze without direction, it could take them a while; but with their stamina and memory, he had no doubt that they could knock it out eventually. "I say let's give it a try. It cannot be too hard."

Allena agreed. "Yeah. Besides, look at this thing – it must have been a pain to make. I doubt they could have made it too sprawling."

Wilson pulled out the travel map he'd been using to chart the caverns. "At any rate, it will give us an excellent opportunity to make use of our choreography skills."

Winona snorted with laughter, and Allena looking like she was about to agree when she picked up on the jibe. She gave him the evil eye, and he whistled innocently.

"INCORRECT WORD USAGE," WX-78 said. "CHOREOGRAPHY IS DANCE. I BELIEVE THE WORD YOUR INFERIOR HUMAN BRAIN IS GRASPING FOR IS 'CARTOGRAPHY'.

Winona's laughter redoubled, and Allena's sour grimace turned into a grin. Wes also appeared thoroughly amused.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. Clumsy me. Thank you for the correction, WX."

"PLEASE USE MY FULL DESIGNATION."

"Certainly, WX," Wilson said.

All in all, they were all in a good mood – except, perhaps, for WX-78 – when they set off down the righthand path. There were more spider webs this way, but WX-78 had a trick to dealing with them.

"IN SOME CASES, SETTING THE WEBS ON FIRE WILL PREVENT THE SPIDERS ABOVE FROM COMING DOWN."

He set the webs on fire, and three strangled hisses of fury erupted from the ceiling, followed by three giant white masses flying down and nearly taking the android's head off.

"CLARIFICATION," he said as they group sprang to his defense. "THIS METHOD ONLY WORKS APPROXIMATELY 22% OF THE TIME."

Indeed, with about one in five of the webs they encountered they were able to avoid confrontation. Even when they weren't, it wasn't much of a bother to dispatch the spiders. Once they actually got very lucky, and the fire traveled up a lingering strand of web all the way to the ceiling. Five flaming spiders dropped down a minute later, all hissing in agony, and three of them bounced off the floor into the abyss.

They met several dead ends. Some of these had old chests, but they all appeared to have been opened and emptied. They asked WX-78 about these, and he said, "UNKNOWN. IT IS POSSIBLE THAT I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE, AND MY MEMORY BANKS ARE CORRUPTED. IF THAT IS THE CASE, I LIKELY UTILIZED WHATEVER MATERIALS WERE WITHIN, OR STOWED THEM AWAY SOMEWHERE ELSE."

"Where might you have left them?" Allena asked.

"I DO NOT REMEMBER," WX-78 replied.

Wes and Winona both facepalmed, but Allena just dropped an interesting conversational nugget. "You know, I've heard that squirrels quite often forget where they buried their nuts." Unsurprisingly, WX-78 did not respond to this.

After another hour of walking, the cheer had died down a bit. The webs were becoming more and more common, none of the chests had anything in them, and they had hit enough dead ends that they were beginning to grow disheartened.

As they hit another one, Winona groaned. They'd been traveling this path for nearly forty minutes, but this had been the last branch of it. They would have to backtrack a long way. "I'm sorry guys. This is my fault. I really botched this."

"It's okay," Allena said, eternally optimistic. "This isn't so bad. Worst-case scenario, we stop for dinner and start back up in the morning."

Winona wasn't assuaged. "Still, all this wasted effort from a slip of attention on my part…" she looked grave. "Not efficient. Not efficient at all."

Wilson clapped her on the back. "We all make mistakes. I've made a few considerable ones in my time. No point lingering on it."

Wes also gave her a comforting smile. WX-78 said, "IF IT IS ANY CONSOLATION, YOUR MISTAKE HAS NOT DRAINED MY ENERGY RESERVES NEARLY AS MUCH AS ALLENA'S INSISTENCE ON BEING REPEATEDLY INJURED HAS. THAT SAID, YOU HAVE DROPPED FROM BEING MY FAVORITE MEATSACK TO MY SECOND FAVORITE MEATSACK."

"Who's your favorite now?" She asked curiously.

"THE SILENT ONE. HE DOES NOT SPEAK, AND HAS NOT YET OVERLY-INCONVENIENCED ME."

Wes looked quite pleased with himself. They set off again.

They got back to the path-branch that had wasted them the last fifty minutes and took off down the other fork. Wilson was just considering whether or not they should take a short rest and make it a late evening when they saw something in the distance that made them all pause.

"Is that light?" Allena asked.

"AFFIRMATIVE. IT APPEARS TO BE A PLAIN OF BULB PLANTS."

This cheered them all considerably. It looked like they were close to something, at least.

They passed several more spiders, and were forced to pause when their path was impeded by a giant pile of scrap – a broken clockwork rook. They decided to carefully clamber over it at WX-78's insistence that it was not going to activate without serious work, and another twenty minutes of dead ends and backtracking later, they reached the end of the maze.

It was a huge square platform interspersed with giant Greek-style pillars. The edges of the platform were all flat, grey stone, but most of it – a field nearly the size of a football field – was muddy terrain. Thankfully, there were no glowing blue light plants. There was a giant grey boulder in the middle, but other than that it was just lichen and lightbulbs.

Winona said, "This is it! This is the place it said the chest was."

They all looked around. "Could it be buried, perhaps?" Wilson suggested. "Or perhaps hidden behind, in, or under that boulder there in the middle?"

"Worth a shot," Allena said, and started towards it.

As they approached it, WX-78 jerked to a halt. "ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND."

Wes looked at him in confusion. Wilson cocked his head. "What data? What are you trying to access?"

"SEARCHING. SEARCHING. ERROR. DATA FILE CORRUPTED. DATA NOT FOUND. SPECIMEN ELEVEN, DATA NOT FOUND. DATA NOT FOUND. ATTEMPTING TO CIRCUMVENT DATA BLOCKAGE. ATTEMPT FAILED. ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND. ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND."

At this point everyone had paused to look at him. It sounded like he was repeatedly trying to access information on something, but kept failing. What was so important that he kept repeating the failed attempts?

"WX-78, are you alright?" Wilson asked cautiously.

"ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND. SEARCHING. SEARCHING. ERROR. SPECIMEN ELEVEN, DATA NOT FOUND."

Winona had come back over to check on him, though Allena had decided to continue on towards the boulder. WX-78 was still…what was the phrase Allena liked to use? Ah, yes. Spazzing out.

"ERROR!" He said, voice now raised. "ERROR! DATA NOT FOUND! ERROR! SPECIMEN ELEVEN, DATA NOT FOUND! ERROR!"

"It's okay bud," Winona said, patting him on the back. "Calm down! Whatever specimen eleven is, we'll be able to deal with it when it shows up. We'll keep a close eye out, okay?"

Finally, WX-78 ceased. "AFFIRMATIVE. I WILL RUN DIAGNOSTICS ON MY HARDWARE TONIGHT, AFTER WE HAVE—"

The air was rent by a short shriek. All of them turned towards Allena.

She stood in front of the boulder, which was at least ten feet wide, ten feet tall, and solid grey. On either side of her were glowing white orbs, each the size of automobile headlights, though much duller.

The orbs blinked.

They were eyes.


	57. Guardian Brawl

Wes drew his weapon and stared at the pair of glowing white eyes in alarm. The creature they had mistaken for a boulder began to shift and move, its great orbs blinked, and it let out a low rumble that seemed to gently shake the platform.

Wilson croaked in horror, then started towards it – and Allena – at a dead sprint. Allena was standing directly in front of the beast, though. Wilson wouldn't get there in time to help. Either she would move, or it would…

What? What sort of creature was this? It was still too dark to tell. Was it the type to claw and bite and gnash? To grab and fling and stab? To crush and stomp and trample?

The answer became clear as Allena shone her shaky beam on its face. They couldn't see all of it by any stretch of the imagination, but what they saw was enough. A horn, not unlike that of a rhinoceros, glinted dully in the bright light. The horn alone was taller than she was.

The beast blinked, grunted in irritation, and swung its giant head. A crush and stomp and trample type, then.

Allena threw herself back at the last moment, and the creature groaned as it got up to get after her. By now there were more lights shining on it, and they could see far more of it.

Wes recognized its form at once. He'd seen it before, though in brass and copper rather than flesh and bone. It was a rook, but far larger than any clockwork facsimile of Maxwell's.

It had only two back legs, no front ones or arms. It gained its footing and rocked backward and forward on them as it found its balance. It gave the immediate impression of being very old – ancient, even. Its hide was dusty and wrinkled. Its hair, which covered its entire body except for its face, was long and thick, and also shed dust as it shook itself. Dust flew out of its nostrils when it snorted. It fell from its ears when it flapped them. Thin panes of dirt came off of its round rhinoceros feet in chunks. This thing was _old._

Allena stumbled backwards towards Wilson, who took her by the elbow and stood facing the beast. "That thing must be guarding the chest!" Winona yelled as she ran forward, and Wes tore his eyes from the creature – this ancient guardian – long enough to get ready for battle with it.

He had been carrying the slurtle shell through the maze, and he now unstrapped it from his back and made sure it was out of the way. WX-78 stood beside him, staring at the rook.

Wes got the sense that he knew what the android had been trying to remember. He pointed at the beast, pointed at the android, pointed at his head, and held up two fingers.

_It that specimen eleven? The one you couldn't remember?_

WX-78 was even worse at interpreting his mimes than Wilson or Wolfgang. He ignored Wes completely, turned towards the ancient guardian, and pulled out his spear. Wes did as well, but he'd barely taken two steps towards it when it bellowed and charged.

He leapt to the side – as did everyone else, thankfully – just in time. The thing was not only larger than a clockwork rook, it was also faster. A lot faster. It was a miracle no one had been hit.

It flew by him, and he ran past it to Winona as he saw that not everyone had gotten lucky on that first charge. She was lying on the ground clutching her arm, and the bitter taste of panic flooded his mouth.

He ran to help her up, and she grunted in pain. "Oof. Thanks, Wes. It clipped my arm."

He immediately started dragging her towards one of the pillars, something that would provide a bit of shelter, but she tried to resist.

He bit back a touch of frustration. He had always admired her strength, but in this case it was misdirected. She was injured. She needed to get out of there before she got herself killed. He pulled her incessantly towards the pillar.

Wilson was calling out instructions.

"Allena, hold its attention! WX-78, stand with me and be ready to attack when it's in range! Wes, Winona, take up a position on the other side of the platform! Allena can draw it back and forth between us, and we'll whittle it down! Just be sure to – Winona! Are you alright?"

"Fine," she called back weakly. Wilson was looking at them, and Wes mimed out that she was injured.

Wilson shook his head. "Never mind! Winona, stay behind the pillar, we'll deal with it!"

She groaned in frustration, but Wes finally got her to the giant stone column. He settled her down, smiled encouragingly at her, gave her a thumbs up, and ran out to do battle. She would be fine. He would take care of everything.

The beast turned back towards them and eyed them all with its empty white orbs. Allena stepped forward, yelled, "Hey, buddy! Over here!" and waved her arms. She also drew her boomerang in case it needed extra motivation to attack her.

It did not. With another gravelly bellow, it lowered its head and charged.

She'd kept an eye on Wilson and WX-78, and positioned herself perfectly. They were about ten feet behind her, twelve feet apart, and when she dodged out of the guardian's way – a challenging feat, since it was about ten feet wide – it ended up right between Wilson and WX-78.

The two started wailing on it with everything they had. It turned heavily around, swinging its horn at Wilson as it did so, and grunted in frustration as it missed. Before it could swing again, it winced. Allena's boomerang had sliced just over one of its eyes.

It turned towards her, and she taunted it again. It charged her.

She'd positioned herself strategically again. The ancient beast ended up right next to Wes at the end of its charge. He stepped forward, wound up with his spear, brought it down with all his might on the creature's hide…

…and it snapped in half without dealing an ounce of damage.

The beast turned towards him, lips turned up in an herbivore's snarl, huge flat teeth jutting out, and Allena's boomerang once again sliced by, this time nicking its ear. It grunted and turned towards her, but Wes didn't bother capitalizing on its distracted state. He threw away both pieces of his weapon and ran. There was no way they'd be able to kill the creature with spears and swords alone. It would take them a decade to whittle it down. They needed something that really packed a punch.

He ran for the slurtle slime shell.

He had seen the divot in the earth outside their base caused by the few scoops of the stuff that had been packed into the little wicker trap. The shell in their possession carried at least ten times the amount. He didn't want to use it all in one sitting, though. That may very well do as much damage to them as to the guardian, and could even destabilize the platform. Instead, he dragged it closer to the battlefield, took off the covering, and dumped about half of it in a big, gelatinous pile. Then he dragged the shell back away again.

The beast was still being drawn back and forth, but Allena had seen Wes running and was no longer directing it towards him. Now, as she looked back at him, he waved at her and pointed to the pile of slurtle slime. Then he pulled out one of their few fire darts and backed himself about ten feet away.

It took her a moment to figure it out, but when she did she grinned fiercely. She nodded, and put herself right in front of the pile of goop.

"Hey, tubby! Over here!" She threw the boomerang.

Again, the beast turned towards her and charged. Wes could see that both Wilson and WX-78 were getting tired, and that the beast's hide had sustained no damage. Actually, there were a few small nicks in it from WX-78's Thulecite pickaxe, but not nearly enough to give them hope for victory.

Wes loaded the fire dart and waited. He would need to time this perfectly. He would shoot the slime as soon as the beast was upon it. Hopefully its underbelly would be a bit softer than its sides.

It charged. Allena dodged.

Wes fired.

It was almost perfect. He hit the slime, but it smoldered for a few seconds before igniting. The beast was slightly past it, turning around to charge Allena again, when the explosion went off.

The concussion knocked Wes off his feet. He lay flat on his back for several seconds before forcing himself up. He couldn't afford to stay still in a fight like this.

To his horror, he saw that he had underestimated how much force the blast would generate. Allena had also been knocked down.

The beast roared in fury and pain. It turned fully towards Allena…

But it didn't charge. It just swung its head around, seemingly unable to see her, and turned away.

It was as it turned fully away from her that Wes saw just how much force his explosion had generated. One side of the beast's body was totally unaffected; the other side was charred and covered with deep red gouges. Its eye was an oozing mess.

He'd partially blinded it, but that wasn't enough. It was still very much active. It turned the other way, and he could see by the way it righted itself that it had caught sight of Allena with its undamaged eye. She was just starting to get to her feet.

"Allena!" Wilson cried out. She was swaying drunkenly. There was no way she would be able to dodge.

Wes desperately wished he had a voice with which to taunt the beast, but all he had were his darts. He hoped they would suffice, loaded a poisoned one, took aim, and shot.

It sank into the beast's eyelid on its undamaged side. The creature blinked it out easily, but Wes could tell that its eye had just locked onto him.

It paused, unable to decide between them. Wes loaded another dart and let fly. This one went a little above its lid.

It shook it out dismissively and looked forward again. It would go for Allena.

He only had one more shot. He drew his last poison dart, took very careful aim, and blew.

The beast stomped, but just before it lowered its head for the charge it groaned in pain. The dart had hit perfectly – right in its undamaged eye.

It turned towards Wes, blinked the dart out of its eye with another pained grunt, snorted, and flung itself forward.

He got out of the way. He looked to see if Allena was up and running again, but no go. She was still dazed. Wes would need to keep the ancient's attention a while longer.

He began running in circles around it, refusing to let it line up for a charge. It grunted and spun around after him, and he barely managed to keep ahead of its horn. No doubt the chase must have looked quite comical from a distance. Was Allena up again?

He ran it in four more circles and was just about ready to drop – he was sprinting full-tilt, and he couldn't keep it up – when the boomerang sliced through the air just in front of the ancient beast's eyes.

It winced and stopped spinning. It turned towards Allena, bellowed, and charged. She was on her feet again. He cheered silently.

Wilson and WX-78 had been catching a breather, but Wes had no such luxury. He needed to get the second explosion ready.

He paused only to look over to where Winona was resting, but froze when he saw that she was gone.

He jogged over to the pillar and check behind it. Nothing. He looked around in dismay. Where had she gone? Was she alright?

He shook his head. Hard as it was, he forced his attention back to the slurtle shell. He couldn't afford spend any time looking for Winona. The others needed him.

Still, his fear for his handywoman was nagging at him as he scooped the remaining slime out of the shell. All he wanted to do was run off and look for her, but he forced himself to keep moving. He waved to Allena, staggered back, loaded another fire dart, and waited. She got the message, lined the beast up, and dodged out of the way when it came running.

Everything was moving so fast. There was so little time to contemplate what was happening, what they would do if this last attack failed. Would they have to seek shelter in the maze? Could they? The roads were wide enough for the beast to follow them, and there was no way they could outrun it, not if it charged them on the long stretches. They couldn't dodge it, either, with the pathway being only a bit wider than the beast itself. Where could they hide? What could they do?

But the guardian was upon him already. He aimed, paused for timing, let fly, and prayed it would be enough.

This time it was perfect. He'd factored in smouldering time, and when the explosion went off – both he and Allena were far enough away to avoid being injured – it went off right under the beast's head.

Wes felt a surge of hope, and heard a tinny cheer of triumph through the ringing in his ears. The beast had lost its footing in the explosion and fallen face-first. It skidded several feet, legs splayed out behind it, and stopped moving.

Excellent. _Excellent!_ It was down. Even if it wasn't quite dead, they would be able to lame it. Maybe WX-78 could even mine right through its skull with his Thulecite pickaxe, and—

The creature was getting up.

It stood with a groan. When it turned, it looked like it could barely keep its balance, but it stayed upright. Its entire face was blackened, its lid drooped heavily over its remaining eye, and its jaw hung low, but it was upright. It was alive.

It was already charging again.

This time its aim was off, and it was a bit slower, but it was still a juggernaut. Allena stumbled out of the way in time, Wilson and WX-78 got in a few more hits, but it wasn't enough. They'd used up their best weapon, but it hadn't been enough.

 _When is it ever?_ He thought miserably.

Wes waved to them all and gestured to the pillar. They needed shelter, and to formulate a plan.

Allena taunted and dodged it one more time, then they all sprinted for the column Winona had been hiding behind. When they were all there, Wilson spat, "Damnit! Two explosions, and the beast is still standing! And where is Winona?"

Wes shrugged helplessly, his fear for her still jangling in the back of his head, attempting to worm its way to the front of his mind in a wave of panic. Was it possible she had fallen off the edge? They were very close. Or had she been picked off by something else – ceiling spiders, perhaps?

Another roar of fury sounded from the platform. The thunderous footfalls of the beast sounded in their direction, and the pillar rocked.

They all flinched. It couldn't reach them behind the pillar – it was too close to the edge – so it was just trying to smash its way through. They heard it take several steps back, then charge. Again, the pillar shook. Again, they flinched.

"What do we do?" Allena asked. She looked horribly exhausted. They all did.

"ENERGY RESERVES LOW. POWER WILL FAIL PRIOR TO TARGET'S DISMEMBERMENT. RECOMMENDATION: NONE AVAILABLE."

Wilson pondered as the pillar shook again. A massive crack had snaked around the column with the last hit, and it wouldn't take but a few more to reduce the thing to rubble.

Allena sat close to the scientist, who wrapped his arm around her. His eyes were still clear, focused, and determined, even as the crack in the pillar widened. Another crash, another crack.

As the ancient guardian backed up to prepare the shattering blow, they all turned their heads towards the maze. A heavy, rusty thumping noise was coming from the darkness.

The beast stopped. Wes stood, crept out, and peeked around the pillar.

The guardian's undamaged eye was facing the entrance of the maze, and out of the darkness came hopping a massive, metallic figure.

A clockwork rook, eyes glowing dimly, bounced into the light of the bulb plants. On its back was Winona, a wrench in one hand and her moggles on her head.

Wes's fear turned to hope, his despair into pride in a flash. He took her in with total awe. Face streaked with grease, rocking back and forth on the back of her hastily-mended mount, she looked magnificent.

They approached the center of the platform like a knight and steed. The clockwork rook eyed its fleshy counterpart, snorting angrily, and Winona hopped off its back. She stared at the ancient beast for a moment, then patted her clockwork companion on the head and said, "Get 'im, boy."

The clockwork rook rumbled, stamped its back foot, lowered its head, and charged.

The ancient barely had time to react before the clockwork bashed right into its side. The rook's damaged horn had been battered down to a jagged point, and sank a solid foot into the beast's side.

The ancient creature roared in pain and displeasure, and swung its own mighty horn. The horn took the clockwork full in the side and it skidded back, hooves scooping up small mounds of mud, but its entire body seemed to have a sort of springy give to it. It stumbled back, unperturbed, and backed away. It steamed and snorted, lowered its head, and charged again.

The beast swung its head wildly and knocked the rook off course. At this, Allena ran out, reinvigorated, and shouted to draw the beast's attention. "Oi! Forget about me? Have another gander, why don't you?"

She threw her boomerang, and Wes saw exactly what she was up to. As the foe turned to take her in, it left its injured side fully exposed to the rook, which was already gearing up for another charge.

Wes ran out towards Winona, who was breathing heavily and clutching her arm. He led her back over to the pillar and looked at her questioningly, and she grinned at him. "Figured since I couldn't fight, I may as well do something useful with myself. I went back to that broken clockwork we found blocking the path earlier, and got it up and running. You don't even have to reprogram the things. If you fix them, they love you for life!"

The clockwork certainly seemed loyal, bashing the monster that had hurt its savior again and again and again with Allena's help. After a few more blows Wilson came to tag Allena out. The beast had been horribly injured by the explosions. Its hide was torn to pieces, and with every blow from the rook the injury was torn wider and wider.

With one last charge, the rook's horn sank fully into the beast's side, and it went rigid. Its remaining eye widened, and rolled around to look at them each in turn.

Then, slowly, it closed. The beast tottered, swayed, and fell forward, crashing solemnly to the ground.

The fight was over.

* * *

The rook tugged its horn from the creature's side, took a few steps back, and let out a rush of steam. Then it made its way back to Winona. She patted its side and said, "Well done, bud. Well done."

Allena, nearly weak with relief, came out from behind the pillar. She was crazy tired, but the fight was over and they had all, once again, survived. She really wondered how long they could keep getting lucky like that.

She made her way over to Winona, but froze as the rook swung its head around and whistled threateningly at her. Winona quickly put a hand on its head and said, "Woah, there! It's alright. She's a friendly." She walked over to Allena and patted her on the back. "See? Nice."

The rook calmed down, though it continued to watch them all suspiciously. It didn't seem to like any of them.

Just then, Allena tensed. Shadows had begun pouring forth from the fallen beast's corpse, and they began to drift towards her.

She backpedaled, and Wilson called out to her in alarm, but just as she was about to draw her sword to defend herself the shadows flowed past her. They weren't targeting her – they were heading for the middle of the platform.

They began swirling around in a dark tornado, faster and faster, and black lightning crackled in the center of the storm. Then, with a last shadowy flash, the tornado vanished.

In its wake was a chest.

The chest was massive, wooden and gold, with huge shining horns on either side of its lid. It sat benignly in the middle of the muddy plain. Upon seeing it, Winona yelled, "That's it! That's the chest!"

Wilson looked at her. "What? That's what you saw at the station?"

"Yeah!" Winona said. "I guess that big ol' rook monster was some sort of guardian. Maybe _that's_ what the redacted information was about."

They all approached it, though they were still cautious. Wilson prodded it with his spear, which was still amazingly intact – Wes's had shattered on the first blow – and when nothing happened, he put it away and stepped forward.

He looked around at them all. "Well? Shall I?"

WX-78 stepped forward. "ALLOW ME. IF IT IS BOOBY-TRAPPED, I WILL BE MUCH MORE LIKELY TO SURVIVE THAN YOU."

Wilson looked quite taken aback by the gesture. "Why, that is quite selfless of you, WX-78. Thank you."

"DO NOT THANK ME. AS COMPENSATION FOR THIS AND MY ASSISTANCE UP UNTIL THIS POINT, I INTEND TO TAKE WHATEVER I REQUIRE FOR MY SYSTEM UPGRADES FOR MYSELF. YOU MAY HAVE WHATEVER REMAINS."

Wilson's brows furrowed. "Alright, well, so long as it isn't vital for our Gateway, you can have it. But any green or yellow gems are ours. Oh, and be careful of what you use – Allena says that your system degradation correlated with your introduction of foreign hardware."

"DULY NOTED," he replied, and opened the chest.

It was not booby-trapped. Nothing happened, aside from everyone's jaw dropping as a heavenly light began streaming out right in WX-78's face.

They all approached and looked inside. Allena had never been a greedy person by nature, but even her inner dragon started salivating as she looked at the trove within.

Small, semi-pyramidal ingots of Thulecite lined the bottom in neat, tidy rows. Between the gaps in the ingots were gems of all colors of the rainbows – notably, a number of yellow and green ones. Nuggets of Thulecite were scattered here and there, a Thulecite pickaxe not dissimilar to WX-78's was laid neatly off to the side, and in the middle of it all was an intricate circlet of Thulecite. Complex geometrical patterns adorned the circlet, and a huge, blood-red gem was set in the middle. It was, unmistakably, a crown.

Allena picked it up and examined it. WX-78 also looked at it, decided he didn't want it, and said, "AS YOU HAVE ADEQUATE AMOUNTS OF THULECITE, I BELIEVE I WILL UTILIZE SOME OF THIS FOR STRUCTURAL UPGRADES AND REPAIRS. I ALSO WANT THE OTHER PICKAXE. YOU ARE FREE TO SQUABBLE OVER THE REST."

He took the pickaxe and started pulling out chunks of Thulecite.

Wilson looked a little dazed by the bounty before him. "No need for squabbling, I think," he said. "I believe this will be all we require – and more – to finish the Gateway and everything else we need."

"Yup," Winona said. "Looks like it. Wes, you want anything in there?"

He looked to be counting something. When he finished, he drooped a bit. Then he blinked and perked up. He plucked two ingots of Thulecite out, looked at WX-78 questioningly, and when the android didn't object, he pocketed them. He looked content.

"Huh," Allena said. "Okay. Well, let us know if you want anything else. I think we have more than enough of everything. Right Wilson?"

"Right," he replied excitedly. "Except for green gems. We have just enough of those to get us by, but none to spare."

Wes nodded. Then he yawned deeply. He pointed at a nearby patch of lichen, mimed striking some flint, and shrugged.

"Yes," Wilson said absentmindedly. "I think a campfire would be just the thing. How much food do we have left?"

"Just enough for dinner tonight, and maybe a little breakfast tomorrow if we stretch it thin," Allena replied uneasily. After everything they'd been through, things would be rough for them until they could reach the eel pools.

Wilson sighed. "Very well. We shall beeline for the ponds tomorrow. I don't think we need anything else while we're down here, do we?"

"Nope," Winona replied. "I for one will be happy as a clam to see the daylight again. This place has been miserable. I've spent way too much time here as is!"

"YOU'RE ONE TO TALK. I'VE BEEN HERE FOR AT LEAST NINE YEARS," WX-78 said. Unless Allena was mistaken, he sounded almost frustrated.

Allena gave him a sideways hug. "No worries. We'll be out of here before you know it," she said comfortingly.

"LOOKING FORWARD TO IT."

* * *

They'd used the rest of their charcoal and scraped together some lichen for the fire. The rations were slim, but after the meal Wilson got a glint in his eye. "Say," he commented. "Do you think that beast over there will have any good meat?"

Immediately Wes jumped up and jogged over to it. Allena wasn't surprised. His stomach was still rumbling even after his eel. Wilson joined him, and Allena meandered over as well. She wanted to get some sleep, but she figured she ought to offer her help first.

Wes was already digging into its side, but Allena couldn't help but feel a mild heartache looking at the creature. It looked so docile in death. Peaceful. Solemn.

"It must have been guarding that chest for a long time," she said as Wilson pulled out his knife. "How long do you think it was down here?"

"The beast looks ancient," he said as he inspected its face. "I cannot fathom how long it must have lain dormant, guarding the treasures of its masters. I don't think Maxwell made it, do you?"

"Not a chance," she said. "It looks too…"

Neither of them had quite the word to describe what it was. It just wasn't _Maxwell._

Wes pulled a large chunk of flesh out of the creature and held it up. Whatever respect Allena had for the creature – the ancient guardian – couldn't stop her mouth from watering at the sight of the marbled meat Wes had taken from it. That would be a meal for one of them all on its own.

The two men got to work butchering it as Allena said, "I'll get this cooking and set up our sleeping bags. I guess we'll all crash after we're done with second dinner."

"Much obliged, my love," Wilson grunted as he tugged off another slab of meat and tossed it to her.

She took the bloody hunks of flesh over and held them up for Winona and WX-78 to inspect. "Hope you're still hungry," she said.

"GLORIOUS SUSTENANCE!" WX-78 replied.

Winona shipped the meat from the guardian to the fire while Allena set up the rest of the camp. Pretty soon the first couple of slabs were done, and as she took them off she asked, "Who wants the first cuts?"

Wilson spoke up at once. "I daresay they ought to go to the heroes of the day. Wes – your quick use of the slurtle slime bought us enough leeway to survive the beast's fury. Winona, it was you and your companion who came to the rescue in the end. We all owe you our lives."

"Aw, jeez," she said. "Just a bit of tinkering on my part. Anyways, it was my fault we went into this blind. If I'd checked the unbroken database when I'd had the chance…"

"YOUR MENTAL DEFICIENCIES DO NOT OUTWEIGH YOUR UTILITY OR MECHANICAL PROWESS. YOU HAVE RESUMED THE POSITION OF 'FAVORITE MEATSACK.'  
CONGRATULATIONS."

Winona guffawed. "Much obliged," she said as he passed her the meat. Wes got the other slice. They both looked pretty pleased with themselves.

They were all able to eat until they were stuffed – or until their energy reserves were full, as WX-78 put it – and at last they curled up to go to sleep. WX-78 went offline to do a full systems check.

Allena laid her head down on Wilson's chest. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

He hummed low in affirmation, but it sounded like he was already drifting off. She had no problem with that. She curled up in the crook of his arm and nodded off soon enough herself.

* * *

She woke in darkness. Of course, she knew at once that she wasn't really awake.

"Taking your sweet time, aren't you, my dear?"

She turned as lights began flickering on throughout the garden. Maxwell stood on the steps of his mansion, staring at her with a slightly curled lip. His eyes weren't white, so it wasn't exclusively the Shadow she was talking to, but no doubt it was listening regardless. She needed to be careful.

"I'm getting to it," she said nervously. "I just need a bit more time."

"Oh?" He asked, tone a hairsbreadth away from scathing. "It seems like you could have dealt with your friends at many points prior to this. Why did you not simply blow them all up with that combustible slime? That ought to have been easy enough."

She swallowed heavily. "I didn't want to get stuck down there. I'm just waiting until we get back to the surface."

He clucked. "My dear, do you forget our deal? The instant your side is complete and the others are dead, you return here. With me. I assure you, you will not have to deal with the horrors of the underground."

Uh, oh. She'd forgotten. There went that excuse. "R-r-right," she stammered. "I…I'll hurry up. But—"

"But what?" He hissed. "How challenging can it be to kill three people?"

"Very!" She snapped hoarsely. "Do I have to remind you that I'm the weakest person on the team? Any one of them can kill me, and now that the slurtle slime is gone I'll have to find some other way to kill them all at once! Just give me more time!"

Maxwell narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. She stepped back, but shadows encircled her ankles almost at once. Unable to lift her feet, she started to fall backwards.

Maxwell darted forward and caught her, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt. "I am getting impatient. I do not want to hear your excuses. I want to see results. And for your insistence on dragging your feet, I'm adding another duty to your roster."

Her eyes widened. What was he going to demand of her?

He jerked her in closer and said, "Kill the android as well, and toss its hideous rusting carcass into the abyss. I do not want it causing any more mischief."

She forced herself not to relax. Since she wasn't planning on killing any of them anyways, that wasn't any sort of real discipline. Still, she needed to pretend that it was.

"But…he's not causing you any trouble," she stammered weakly. "J-just reprogram him to keep wandering around charting caves until he runs out of power, it's no big deal."

Maxwell's pupils and irises contracted, and she cringed away. "Do not tell me what my problems are," he snarled. When he spoke now, his voice had a slight reverb to it. This was the Shadow speaking. "If I say the android is a problem, and if I tell you to deal with it, you will _deal with it,"_ he snarled. "You will do so, because you know what the alternative is."

As he said this, shadowy hands rose up from the ground all around her. Whispers began snaking their way into her mind, all vile, awful taunts and promises that made the blood drain from her face and the strength go out of her legs. Her knees gave out, and she fell.

Maxwell dropped down with her, leaning over her and drawing her flush against him, so her back was arched heavily. His pupils were only pinpoints of black now. Maxwell was not in control. "Two weeks," the Shadow said. "Two weeks before I drag you back down here, nail you to the floor of my ballroom, and make of you an example such that no one who walks this world again until the end of time will even _think_ of reneging on a deal with _me."_

It permitted some space between them, and a hand, clawed and black, came up and came to rest just beneath her lower-left rib, which was jutting out due to the angle of her body. The hand began curling inwards, up under the ribs, claws sliding up towards her heart.

She gasped in pain as the claws broke skin, and began to shriek as they dug in further. As they drew close to the frantically beating organ, she choked out, _"Maxwell…"_

The hand paused, and the pupils – only specks of black in their lakes of dull and empty white – enlarged. He blinked a few times, and the Shadow's presence receded.

He pulled his hand out and loosened his grip on her. She fell to the ground, breath coming in short little gasps.

He stared down at her coldly. "Two weeks," he repeated.

She nodded and curled up away from him.

She heard him sigh, and felt a hand on her shoulder. "Once this whole unpleasant business is over, you'll need never fear the Shadow again. You'll be quite content here, I promise you. I will see to it. You know I can. And you'll forget the others…in time…"

Allena shivered. Maxwell was a good actor. No doubt the Shadow would be thoroughly convinced of his intentions.

As she lay there, waiting for the dream to be over, feeling his cold fingers trail soothingly down her arm again and again, coating it with thin trails of her own blood, she was almost convinced herself.


	58. The Trip Home

When Allena awoke, she woke alone. Wilson wasn't there, and she couldn't quite stifle a whimper.

"Hm? Allena, are you alright?"

She sat up to see him sitting right there at the fire, which had been stocked up with the last of the lichen. More meat was cooking, and Wilson was looking at her worriedly.

She moved over to him and leaned her head against his arm. "I'm okay. This trip…all of this…it's just starting to wear on me."

He leaned down and kissed her head. "Worry not, my love. It will all be over soon."

"Yeah," Winona's voice came from Wilson's other side. "We'll be home in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Mark my words!"

Allena's head turned round to look at her, and she smiled sheepishly. It looked like Wilson and Winona had gotten up early to whip them up some breakfast. WX-78 and Wes were still 'offline'. "Yeah, alright. So, we're just heading straight back now, right?"

"Let us call Wortox first, and stock up on provisions," Wilson suggested. "Oh, speaking of provisions…"

He tugged a chunk of meat off the fire, pulled the wicker basket out of his pack, undid the silk and peeked inside. He was met with a chorus of hisses.

He chuckled lightly and tossed the meat in. The hisses of anger turned to hisses of delight, and Allena heard a sick squelching noise as the spiderlings got to work on their meal.

"Webber really will love them," Allena said. "Say, do you think we should have Wortox take these guys back with him, too?"

"Hmm. No," Wilson replied. "Who knows how Hopping will affect them? Besides, we don't want to saddle Wortox with the job of keeping them fed. No, they'll be quite safe with me."

He tossed in one more chunk of meat and sealed off the basket again, stowing it in his pack. By now Wes was waking up, and as he sat up Allena couldn't help but smile. He looked pretty cute with his face-paint smudged and his hair all tousled. This far into the trip, his rosy red cheeks were streaked like war-paint beneath his eyes.

"There's my warrior man," Winona said, walking over to Wes and ruffling his hair. "Wakey wakey, eggs and giant ancient rhino bakey," she said.

Wes yawned and stretched. Then he stood, pointed at the ancient guardian, made a sawing gesture, and pointed at their food pack.

"An excellent idea," Wilson said chipperly. "Why don't you and I take care of the men's work while the ladies tidy up camp and tend the meal? That seems fair, hmm?"

Winona narrowed her eyes at the teasing tone of his voice and said, "You know, I think I'll help Wes out. You just take it easy and make sure the meat doesn't burn, brainiac."

Wilson shrugged easily. "If you insist."

She and Wes made their way over to the beast. Winona's clockwork rook, which had spent the night beside them, woke up and thumped along after her. As soon as they were out of earshot, Wilson said, "And that's how you goad a woman into butchering a rhino for you."

Allena slapped a hand to her mouth and snorted with laughter. "Wilson, that's not nice!"

He grinned mischievously. "But it worked."

"I'd be more careful with her if I were you," she chuckled. "She has a giant clockwork bodyguard now."

He dismissed this. He glanced over at Wes and Winona to see that they were already shoulder-deep in beast, then shuffled over closer to Allena. He looped an arm around her waist and leaned over her. "You know, Winona was right. We'll be home in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Not only back to base, but home home as well. And once we are…"

He descended on her neck, planting kisses all along her jugular. She hiccupped with sudden reaction, and this time when she whimpered it had nothing to do with distress. She felt a hand slip under the hem of her shirt and caress the small of her back—

"SY-SY-SYSTEM CHECK COMPLETE. REBOOT COMPLETE. WX-78 ONLINE. GOOD MORNING, MEATLINGS. AM I INTERRUPTING SOMETHING?"

Wilson leaned back with a grin entirely too wide to be genuine. "Nothing at all, WX. Sleep well?"

"I WILL IGNORE THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE FAILED TO USE MY FULL DESIGNATION YET AGAIN UNDER THE ASSUMPTION THAT YOU ARE UPSET OVER MY INTRUSION UPON YOUR MOMENT OF INTIMACY," WX-78 stated. "GIVEN HOW MUCH YOU MEATLINGS ENJOY YOUR ALONE TIME, I CANNOT BLAME YOU."

Allena was holding her face in her hands in borderline mortification. There was absolutely no way Wes and Winona hadn't heard all of that.

Sure enough, she looked back to see both of them on all fours, Winona pounding the ground with her fist, Wes bobbing up and down in his silent mirth.

Allena cleaned up the camp while Wilson cooked. About an hour later, Wes and Winona came back with the food pack stuffed with meat. "That oughta get us through a few days," Winona said, pointing to the pack Wes was carrying. For the first time in a while, the pack was actually heavy enough that Wes had to manage it again.

They all sat around the fire stuffing themselves, and when they were done they decided it would be a good time to summon Wortox. It only took about a minute of chanting his name to get him to appear.

When he sprung into existence with his normal _pop_ sound, Allena's eyes were drawn at once to the numerous bandages wound around various parts of his body. Wortox was injured.

She jumped up and ran to him. "Wortox! Are you okay?"

He tapped his ears as though dealing with an altitude change, then smiled at her, though it was a little wonky. "I have been better. I have been worse. Tell me, has your hunt for shiny things gone well? Do tell, do tell."

"Swimmingly," Wilson replied. "We have all we need. But what has happened to you, dear imp? You look like you've had a run-in with the Dragonfly!"

It wasn't an inaccurate analogy. One of his ears was torn, his tail was heavily bandaged, much of his fur was singed, and he was slightly bent at the waist, as though cradling a broken rib or two. One of his fingers was in a hasty splint. "I'm fine, quite fine. I and the others have been having a lovely time. Now, the gems and goodies?"

"Oh, Wortox," Allena said. "We can't ask you to carry our stuff back like this. You're hurt."

"Nothing to fear, my dearest dear," he said with a joviality that couldn't quite mask his discomfort. "'Twill only take a short time for me to fix myself up. Once I get my hand on a spare soul or two, I'll be right as rain! For now…" he winced as he set down his pack. "I can deal with the pain."

"What happened, bud?" Winona asked. Her brow was furrowed in worry, not a common look on her. Wes mirrored the look.

Wortox sighed. "I took your advice and went to visit my most knowledgeable source. He wasn't too happy to see me."

Winona's worry deepened to guilt. "Oh, cripes. When you said you didn't like the guy, I didn't think…"

Wortox waved her words aside. "It is not your fault. I would have had to go and see him sometime or another. I could only avoid my father for so long."

"Your _father_ did this to you?" Wilson asked incredulously.

Wortox nodded. "Not a pleasant creature, him. All my nasty qualities are ones he bequeathed to me. But," he added more cheerfully. "He is every bit as clever as he is cruel and vile. Get him talking for a minute, and he'll talk for a mile!"

Winona looked hopeful. "Wait, does that mean…?"

He nodded with a smile. "I have acquired the secrets to your sister's confinement. Getting her free will not be fun, but with some work it can be done. Split in two her soul has been, and if we are to win back your kin, the two must become one again."

"The two must…huh?" Winona said, puzzled.

"Wait," Allena said slowly. "Do you mean that the Charlie out in the darkness and the Charlie in the tank are both her, but…two different parts of her soul?"

Wortox nodded again. "You pick up quickly! Yes. If you have the time, perhaps I can explain what I have learned?"

They all sat back down around the dwindling fire, and Wortox pulled a log out of his Krampus sack and tossed it on. The flames sprung up again, much to their appreciation.

"The problem is," Wortox began. "The being in the tank is soul alone. Her form is projected by the magics of the tank, but there is no real body within. This is why you could not hear her speak," he added to Allena.

That made sense. If her body wasn't actually in there, she wouldn't have had a mouth to make noise. Like the old ghost lady.

Wortox went on. "Her body is out in the darkness, possessed by the Shadow and driven to carry out its will. To stalk and chase and hunt and kill."

"Why can't she fight the Shadow off, eh?" Winona asked indignantly. "Maxwell's a prick when he's possessed, but he's still human. Charlie in the dark is like…"

"She is the Shadow's wrath incarnate," Wilson finished darkly.

Wortox's ear twitched. "Yes. That is because she is in a weakened state – too weak to easily fight the Shadow. You see, you or I could fend it off enough for us to keep our minds. We can do this because we possess the strength of a whole, untarnished soul. She cannot fight so well because her soul is torn asunder."

That also made sense…in a horrible sort of way. "Her soul has been ripped apart," Allena fretted. "That doesn't sound good. Can we fix her?"

"Yes," Wortox said confidently. "We can. We need only do three things. First, we would need to get the woman's two forms together. Her body and the soul fragment would need to be quite close."

"That might be tough," Allena said. "You said you learned about the prison she's in, right? Can that thing be moved? Because I don't think the Shadow would risk shadow-Charlie getting anywhere near the mansion. She's not allowed down in the Epilogue as is, though she snuck in the last time I was there."

"The container can be moved," Wortox assuaged. "Though it will likely be very heavy. It is made of a particularly strong material, as it must be. It serves the purpose of anchoring her soul; without it, the soul fragment will flutter away and be lost, unreachable, indistinguishable within the torrent of souls here in the Constant."

"Okay," Winona said hurryingly. "Get the soul and the body together. What then?"

"The body would have to be bound," Wortox said darkly. "Given how quick and strong the shadow-woman is, this may be tricky."

"Leave it to us," Wilson said. "Allena and I will find a way. I'm certain we can."

Wortox nodded. "Very well. Third, a ritual would need to take place. A circle would need to be drawn about the them, souls and body. A simple spell would then be cast, and if all went well, the soul fragments would meld. There then would be but one more problem."

"What's that?" Winona asked.

Wortox shivered slightly. "It may do little good. You see, the Shadow would not release its hold on her easily. Even with a healed soul, that may not be enough to cast it out."

Winona stepped forward. "My little sister is as tough on the inside as I am on the outside. Once her soul's all patched up, she'll be able to kick that Shadow to the curb, no problem."

"And once she has, we can make sure she doesn't get possessed again," Allena said. She described the Magiluminescence to him, and he worried his lip. "An excellent plan, but I must ask – with all else you will need to construct, and with whatever limited time you have left to do it, will you be able to craft this necklace quickly enough?"

Allena might not have worried about it the previous day, but now she had a definite timeframe. "Actually…I'm not sure. We already have one, but to be on the safe side I think we might want to a few more. One Charlie, one for Maxwell, and another couple for whoever heads down there to save them."

"We oughta be fine," Winona said heartily. "I mean, we don't exactly have a concrete deadline, do we?"

Allena's expression must have been enough to let them all know that something was up, because Wilson asked, "Allena? Has something changed?"

She nodded heavily. "I got a visit from Maxwell last night. He said…" she paused and swallowed thickly. "He said I only have two more weeks."

"What?" Winona demanded. "Why's he so jittery, eh? What'll he do if you can't get this done in two weeks?"

Both Allena and Wilson's eyes flickered to the violet gem resting against her chest. "Nothing good, I imagine."

A mild sense of urgency stole over the group. Allena's head had been on the chopping block all this time, but now the axe was sharpened, the date set.

Wortox stood up. "Never fear. I am quite familiar with works of magic. I will craft the trinkets and have them ready well ahead of time!"

"Do you think you could manage another project?" Wilson inquired. "There is a staff– the Telelocator staff, and its focuses—"

"Leave them to me. I will see the crafting through, for you, for you!"

The sense of urgency receded somewhat. That really took some strain off of them.

"Say, how is the other team doing?" Wilson asked. "They're all alright, yes?"

"Quite," Wortox said. "Their adventures have been exciting, yes, but they have not come to great distress. They have acquired the last of the components, and are well on their way to the station of assembly!"

That was a very positive note to end on. "Very well," Wilson said. "Then let us get you all packed up and soon we shall be on our way."

Wes and Winona got to work filling Wortox's sack with supplies, and Wilson and Allena both gave him the notes on how to construct the things they would need. The camp was already packed up. WX-78 was sharpening his old pickaxe and rigging a harness for his new one.

Wilson, who seemed to be deep in thought, meandered back over to the corpse of the ancient guardian. Allena followed him over, but said nothing. She didn't like to disturb him while he was thinking. Instead, she took to contemplating the corpse as well.

As she took the great beast in, a conversation she'd had with Wilson a fairly long time ago came to mind.

_Say, have you been working on that Deerclops eye? Any progress on that?_

_No. I'll need a stronger base if I'm to make a lasting defensive device out of it – beefalo horns and gold won't work._

_I don't want to meet anything with a horn big enough to hold that thing, Wilson._

_I know, my love._

Well, she certainly wouldn't have come after this thing by choice, but now that it was already dead…

"Hey, Wilson," she said after another few minutes of silence. "Do you think that thing's horn would be a good enough base for another Houndius Shootius? I know you said you'd need something bigger than beefalo horns and gold."

Wilson's eyes widened. "Why, heavens above! You're quite right. No doubt that horn would be perfect for creating a lasting weapon. But given our constraints on time…"

Allena agreed that they would already be hard-pressed to get everything else done, but she also recalled what Maxwell had said about what would happen if the Shadow had any time to retaliate against their escape attempt. "Maxwell said we might run into trouble if the Shadow catches wind of what we're doing. It won't be willing to let us go so easily. It'll send everything it has after us if it gets half a chance."

Wilson looked deeply worried about that. "True, and it wouldn't take more than two days to rig up another Houndius Shootius. I could even use the excess Thulecite from the chest to make it really astounding. But do you think we could transport it back? The horn, I mean? Look at how large it is. And how could we even detach it? We have no bone saw."

Allena considered it, then decided to give something a try. She pulled her shadow-sword out – she hadn't used it on anything other than shadows all this time, and had no idea how it would work on non-shadow creatures – and lined it up at the very base of the horn.

Wilson watched curiously as she drew back her arm and swung.

_Swish—_

_THUNK._

The shadow blade cut cleanly through the horn as though it were warm butter. The horn fell to the ground.

Both of their jaws dropped. Evidently the shadow blade had more utility than she'd thought.

She blushed. "Wow. Uh, I bet that fight would have been a lot easier if I'd thought to use this thing."

Wilson started laughing. "Good heavens! What a weapon! Well, I daresay we shan't have any more trouble with paltry spiders on the way back! Now, let's see how heavy this horn is?"

To their surprise, is wasn't nearly as heavy as they'd expected. Still a pain to carry, but together they were able to get it back to the campfire.

Winona whistled as they drew near. "Wouldn't mind mounting that on my wall. Too bad we can't take it up, though."

Wortox stared hard at it. "Quite a mighty beast it was that must have toted such a weapon. It would take a fair bit more effort for me to Hop that back to the surface. But then again…"

He eyed the fallen guardian. Then he tilted up his head and gave a long whiff. His eyes glittered. "Say, do you have any more need for the beasty?"

"Nah," Winona said. "We've gotten all the meat we can carry from it."

Wortox nodded and went over to it. He stared down at it for a minute, then bowed low. "O great guardian of ancient treasures, your long vigil is over. Be at peace."

He bent over and touched the guardian on its forehead.

The enormous beast collapsed slowly into red mist. The mist floated towards Wortox's hand, glowing more brightly and thickening as it collapsed into a single ball. Wortox's ears went back and he quivered as the soul began to pulse with power. He clapped a second hand over it, grimaced, and squeezed.

The massive soul collapsed, contained in a single bright orb.

He came back over. "A mighty soul this creature had. With this alone I will be able to transport myself, the horn, and all the goodies back, I think."

Then he licked his lips. "And that leaves me with a few extra souls…"

He withdrew a smaller, less brightly glowing crimson orb from his pack – a smaller soul. He popped this in his mouth and made a contented sound.

He did this with two more, then said, "Ah, and look at this new trick I have learned! Here, gather 'round!"

He pulled out a soul and held it up. They all looked at it curiously, but were forced to cover their eyes as it glowed brightly and vanished in a burst of light.

Upon its disappearance, Allena felt a surge of calm and warmth flow through her. When she opened her eyes, she saw a few changes to the group.

Winona was swinging her arm around freely. It had been sore and stiff since the fight with the ancient guardian, but it now appeared to be healed. Wes, who had sustained several scrapes and singes from the slurtle slime explosion, looked to be in peak health. Wilson looked to have lost a few bruises as well. As for Wortox, his ear was mended, and much of his fur was soft and red again. He took off his finger splint and tossed it away.

"Wow!" Winona exclaimed. "That's really somethin'!"

Wortox looked very happy with their reactions. He pulled out another soul and did the same thing, and the remainder of his injuries vanished. As for Allena, she at least felt about a million times better. "The power of a soul set free is quite rejuvenating. Yes?"

"AFFIRMATIVE," WX-78 said. "MY CIRCUIT BOARDS ARE FEELING STRANGELY DEBUGGED."

Wow. Even WX-78 was feeling good after that. That really was impressive.

They didn't need the slurtle shell anymore since they'd used up all the slime within, so they redid the rigging they'd used on it to tie the horn to Wortox's back. His Krampus sack he held in his arms. The soul was clenched between his teeth, and Allena could see his nose working furiously. Drool began leaking out of the corners of his mouth.

"Are'well," Wortox said through the soul. "I 'ill ee oo oon!"

_Farewell, I will see you soon!_

They all wished him well, wished him luck, and thanked him for his continued aid. With no further ado, he scrunched his face up, bent his knees, and Hopped.

* * *

They started back towards the entrance to the ruins. The few enemies they had to deal with weren't too problematic, partly due to Winona's clockwork bodyguard. Wes requested that they detour once to fetch the extra green gem from the semi-broken pseudo-science station, and he quickly mined it and stashed it away in his balloon pouch. Allena used it once before he did so, checking on the properties of the crown they'd gotten from the chest.

_Thulecite crown. Provides protection to the wearer and clears the mind whi—_

The rest of the entry was missing. She gave it to Wilson and said, "Here. This thing is supposed to protect you and clear your mind."

"You should wear it, then."

"Doesn't fit me."

Wilson relented and tried on the crown, and unless she was mistaken, he took a liking to it almost at once. Her mouth twitched up in a smile. That didn't really surprise her.

They reached the eel pools by the end of the day, which was just as well – the nightmare cycle would be nearing its peak soon. They would want to hunker down and rest for the evening.

They popped some guardian meat on the fire and Allena sat down to fish at a pond a short way away. The day had been uneventful, but also very long, and she was tired.

Wes and Wilson were engaged in a conversation by the campfire, and WX-78 was rechecking his systems from Wortox's soul healing that morning. Winona came to sit down beside her.

"Hey Winona. How's it going?"

The woman sighed, and Allena's attention slid from the pole to her. It wasn't often you heard Winona sigh.

"Fine," she said. "The trip's gone great, and prospects seem pretty good for us. But still…"

Allena thought she knew where this was going. "You're worried about Charlie, aren't you?"

She could see it in Winona's eyes when the woman turned to look at her. Before she could say anything, however, the pole jerked forward in her hands as an eel caught hold of the lure.

She carefully pulled it back, wearing the eel out a bit before giving it a mighty tug. The long, sinuous fish came flopping out of the pond. Winona grabbed it and had it gutted and set aside in the blink of an eye.

"Thanks," Allena said.

"No problem. All of this just seems so insane, you know?"

Allena nodded. She could sympathize.

"I mean," Winona said in tones of mild frustration. "Magic! Spells! Staffs and amulets and all that junk! Why can't things just be as simple as grabbing her, holding her down, and shouting some sense into her?"

Allena cast her line again. "I know how you feel. Wilson's great with all this magic stuff. So is Wortox. But to be honest, I find it all terrifying. For Wortox it's natural. And Wilson has actually used some of this power to his advantage. I've only ever had it used against me. And it's…"

She trailed off, thinking back on all the sufferings magic had inflicted upon her. A lot of them still lingered in a very unpleasant way.

"You know," Winona said. "You don't have to keep everything bottled up all the time."

Allena shook her head. "I don't like to bother other people with this stuff. I mean, I survived it all. What's the point in harping on about it?"

Winona made a non-committal sound. "I've never had much respect for whiners. But I've also seen what happens when you keep too much to yourself." She stretched her legs out, getting into a more comfortable position. "I had a buddy workin' the assembly line back at my old job, long time ago. It was real busy. We were just startin' up the business, so it was all hands on deck. One day he had a bit of an accident, got a little cut on his leg. We all told him to go home for the day, maybe see a doctor, get it treated, but he insisted it was nothing. Few days later, we saw he was limping. Still didn't want to bug us with it."

She lapsed into silence. The bobber sat quietly in the water. At last she said,

"Next day he didn't come into work. Turned out the leg got infected. Three days later we all got word he'd died at the hospital."

Allena had learned by then that Winona had a lot of respect and affection for the people she worked alongside. "I'm sorry," Allena said softly. "That must have been awful."

Winona's lip twitched down. "Losing him? Yeah, it stunk. But what really made it sting was how easily it coulda been prevented." She looked Allena full in the eye and said, "Little injuries? They fester, sometimes. You think they don't matter all that much, then one day you wake up and it's worse than you even thought it could be, and it's too late to do anything about it. Sometimes you've just gotta tell people what's goin' on."

Allena looked back at the bobber. She'd felt a slight tug, but…

She was jerked forward slightly as the tug doubled back up. She yanked hard on the line, and the pole bent nearly to its breaking point; but at the last moment the eel came flopping out of the pond. Again, Winona took care of it.

She thought all the way back to the first bargain she'd made with the Shadow. The needle, looping in and out of her skin. Her soul.

_Hold still…this will only hurt a lot…_

She recalled the time Maxwell had cornered her in the Thornwood Base, had bound her to the ground while he'd sated himself with, 'a taste of what was to come.'

_Lovely…delightful…so soft…so sweet…so…very…presentable…_

The meeting in the mansion, the first time she'd seen it, when she'd first discovered the true nature of the Shadow.

_When I have you, I will rip you apart…I will kill you again, and again, and again…I will make him kill you, and what's more I will make him **enjoy it…**_

She took a steadying breath. Two weeks. A day of that already gone.

She was so scared.

But fear also festered if left unaddressed. Just like old agonies.

She started at the beginning, and told Winona everything. Everything that she couldn't bear to heap on Wilson and the others.

She kept her voice low enough that she wouldn't be heard around the campfire, and let it all spill out. It felt toxic to dredge up, it tasted bitter coming out, but once it was gone, she felt its absence in an almost tangible way.

Winona listened, and provided excellent emotional support.

"Why that little…when I get my hands on him, I'm gonna—"

Allena couldn't help but giggle through her tears at the colorful and descriptive pictures Winona painted her. They were morbid pictures, morbid giggles, but they were also very cathartic. They helped.

By the time she'd gotten it all off her chest, she felt husked out and a bit numb, but her head felt clearer than it had in weeks.

"Yeesh," Winona said at the end of it. "No wonder you've been so out of it. That'd be enough to give me the screamin' mimis, and I haven't had a real nightmare in years. Listen, you need to talk, you just come to me, alright? I can deal with it."

Allena flung her arms around the woman in a tight hug.

"Oomph," she said, but hugged her back. After a minute of this, she patted her on the back and said, "Alright, alright. Whaddaya say we put these eels away and go get some dinner, hey? Get your worries off your chest and some food in your belly."

Allena let go with a long, deep breath. "Okay. Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Wilson had been chatting with Wes about what how intended to use the green gem they'd picked up that day. It really was amazing how much better they'd gotten at communicating over the months.

He put their conversation on pause briefly as he looked over to where Allena and Winona sat at the pond, talking. He could see by the tension in Allena's shoulders that the subject matter wasn't pleasant.

WX-78 had just come back online, and Wilson asked absentmindedly, "I wonder what they're talking about?"

WX-78 said, in slightly lowered tones, "YOUR INFERIOR HUMAN SENSES ARE INCAPABLE OF PICKING UP ON THEIR CONVERSATION? WHAT A SURPRISE. HERE, ALLOW ME TO ASSIST YOU."

And he started repeating back what he was hearing, in a low, rough approximation of Allena's voice.

They all listened for several moments, and Wilson could have sworn that Wes paled beneath his face paint.

Wilson's stomach turned at the few brief sentences that WX-78 repeated, and before the android could go on he held up a hand. "Stop, please, WX-78."

WX-78 cut off abruptly. "YOU ARE UNSATISFIED WITH MY ABILITY?"

"It isn't that," Wilson explained. "It's simply that if Allena wanted to talk to us about these things, she would do so openly. It would be wrong in the extreme of us to listen in against her will. Frankly, it would be…"

He trailed off, looking for the word. Wes also pondered, then he frowned. He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something down, handing it to Wilson.

Wilson looked at the paper in mild awe. It was the first time Wes had ever openly written down a sentiment without the use of art or abstraction. The word on the paper was _voyeuristic._

Wilson nodded. "Voyeuristic. Yes. That's the one."

WX-78 did not reply, but he also stopped repeating the conversation. A while later Wilson saw Allena give Winona a hug, then they stood up, gathered their eels, and came over to the campfire.

"Dinner ready?" Winona asked.

"Indeed," Wilson said lightly as Allena sat down beside him. He could see her eyes were red from crying, but he decided it would be unwise to pester her about her worries. He simply wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a brief hug, which she returned.

They ate in silence for a long while. Soon, however, an air of mild dread began to settle about them. A glow of red on the horizon informed them that the nightmare cycle had reached full swing. They could all see the black, alien figures dancing in the distant crimson haze.

Wilson noticed Allena gazing somberly in that direction, and he decided to try and lighten the mood. "Say, does anyone know any good campfire songs?"

Sometimes he could be a bit tactless when dealing with complex emotional problems. Other times he hit the nail on the head. Thankfully, this was one of those times. Allena's face split into a wide grin, and before anyone else could respond she started belting out,

"Youuuu…folks in the city have really missed out! Your food is so boring and plain! Just come to Wilson's and you will find out what a wonderful meal can contaaaaaain…"

She took a deep breath…

"Possum pot pie! Possum pot pie! I love every morsel, each ear and each eye! Yum, yum! What a feast in a puddle of grease, oh I can't get enough of that possum pot pie!"

WX-78 was staring at her and leaning slightly away, as though afraid whatever she had might be contagious. Wilson held in a laugh as she continued.

"The possum is vicious when eaten alive, but is gentle and kind when he's dead! His tail is quite tasty when battered and fried, and his brains are quite yummy on breaaaaaaaaaad!"

She went back into the chorus and finished off with a long, cheerful, "…oh, I can't get enough of that possum pot pieeeeeeeeeeee!"

Winona finally burst out laughing. "Wowie, is that what kids sing around the campfire nowadays?"

"Why?" Wilson asked. "What did you sing when you were a child?"

Winona snorted. "Oh, trust me, you don't want me singing anything. I have the worst voice you've ever heard."

"You can't be worse than Webber's," Wilson said drily. "Trust me. That boy sounds like…what did you say, love?"

"A synthesizer falling down a flight of stairs," Allena supplied.

"Yes, that." Wilson still had no idea what a synthesizer was, but he postulated that it sounded bad. Particularly when it was thrown down the stairs.

"Ugh," Winona said. "Alright. Well, here's the one I remember my old man singing all the time." She cleared her throat.

_"I've got a mule and 'er name is Sal; fifteen miles on the Erie Canal._

_She's a good 'ol worker and a good ol' pal; sixteen miles on the Erie Canal._

_We've hauled some barges in our day, filled with lumber, coal, and hay, and we know every inch of the way, from Albany to Buffalo…"_

She trailed off, frowning. Perhaps she'd forgotten the rest of the lyrics.

Winona started, surprised, when Allena picked up in her stead. "Low bridge, everybody down! Low bridge, yeah, we're comin' to a town!"

At this, Winona grinned. She picked up again, and the two sang together. "And you'll always know your neighbor, you'll always know your pal, if you've ever navigated on the Erie Canal!"

By this time, Wes and Wilson were both stamping their feet lightly to the beat of the music.

_"You can bet your life I'd never part with Sal; fifteen miles on the Erie Canal!_

_We know every inch of this old Canal; sixteen miles on the Erie Canal!_

_We've hauled some barges in our day, filled with lumber, coal, and hay, and we know every inch of the way…"_

They continued with the chorus, then Winona took up the song alone again. It looked like she recalled a verse Allena didn't.

_"Don't have to call when I want my Sal; fifteen miles on the Erie Canal._

_She trots from 'er stall like a good ol' gal; sixteen miles on the Erie Canal._

_I eat my meals with Sal each day, I eat beef and she eats hay. And she ain't so slow if you want to know. She puts the 'Buff' in Buffalo!"_

Allena grinned widely at hearing this. Wilson got the sense that she would remember the verse having heard it only once. She picked up on things that delighted her very quickly.

They finished the song together, and he and Wes applauded lightly. "Honestly, Winona; you sell yourself short. Your voice is really quite striking," Wilson commented.

"Yeah," Allena agreed. "You'd have been a great alto in my old chorus class."

"Eh? What's an 'alto'?"

Wes lifted a finger and started miming. He pointed to Winona and opened his mouth to mimic singing. He tilted his head down, extended a hand outward while dropping it.

"Oh," Winona said. "An alto is someone who sings…low?"

Wes nodded. Then he pointed to Allena, opened his mouth again, tilted his head up, and extended a hand while lifting it.

"And someone who sings high is a soprano," she translated. "I was a second soprano in my high school chorus classes."

"Second?" Winona asked. "What's a _second_ soprano?"

Wes again jumped in. He held up a single finger on one hand and two fingers on the other. He held them right beside each other. Then he dropped the two fingers down while lifting the other finger up.

"The first sopranos sing higher, the second sopranos sing lower?" Winona asked.

Wes nodded, and Allena said, "Yup. Same with altos. How do you know all of this, Wes?"

He got an odd expression on his face then, and looked down as though considering how best to answer the question. Then he reached into his shirt and pulled out something none of them had ever seen before. It was a small, golden locket.

He handed this across to Allena, who opened it and gasped. "Oh, wow. Wes, this isn't your mom, is it? And your dad?"

Wes nodded. He reached over and pointed at one picture, then mimed singing again.

"Your mother was a singer?" Wilson asked curiously. Wes nodded, then did his soprano mime again, and held up one finger.

"A first soprano?" Winona added.

Wes nodded. Then he added another mime. He smoothed his hands out horizontally in front of him, sat up straight, held what was no doubt an invisible microphone in front of him, and mimed singing again.

Allena pondered this, then said, "Was she a professional?"

Wes nodded excitedly. Then he mimed pulling something out of his pocket – a wallet, going by his subsequent reaching into his hand and pulling something out – and held out his hand to what may have been a teller. He reached in several more times, denoting taking a great deal of money out. Then he tapped his eyes and held out his hands, tapped his ears and held out his hands.

Wilson thought he knew what the mime was saying. "People paid a great deal of money to come see her perform?"

Wes once again nodded, then added yet more. He hopped up, whirled around an invisible pole, and held a spyglass to his eye. He then sat down in an invisible seat, brought his hands in front of him like a steering wheel grip, and began swerving smoothly left and right, up and down, tilting and jilting as though in a vehicle that didn't stay completely level.

"People sailed and...flew in to see her? To Paris, right?"

He nodded, now smiling wildly. Then his smile mellowed a bit. He sat down, held out his hand for the locket, and put it back on when Winona returned it. Allena had passed it around to let all of them see.

He crossed his arms over his knees, neck slightly craned. The smile was still on his face, but there was a definite air of sadness about him.

Wilson knew what that meant. "You miss her dearly then, I take it."

He nodded.

Allena brows had contracted in sorrow, but then she perked up. "Hey, you know, there are still plenty of people around from the World War Two era. Not too many…my grandpa was a veteran, and he just passed away a few years ago…but maybe your parents are still around?"

Wes shook his head. He thumped his chest with his hand and blanched, in imitation of a cough.

"Oh," Allena said in dawning comprehension. "She got sick?"

Wes nodded again.

Allena looked like she might get up and go to him, to comfort him, but Winona beat her to it. The handywoman slid over to Wes, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and pulled him close. "Hey, I get it. I miss my parents, too. I hear ya. Even if ya don't say a whole lot, I hear ya."

Wes looked at her, eyes a bit watery, and leaned over to press his forehead against hers. The two looked comfortable together.

Desiring a similar closeness, Wilson took Allena's hand and squeezed it. She looked up at him. He was glad to see that her eyes were no longer red. He leaned down and nuzzled noses with her.

WX-78 was looking back and forth between the two pairs of people, and after a minute of beholding the general affection he said, "I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO GLAD THAT I WAS CREATED WITHOUT A SOUL.  
YOUR PERIODIC SPONTENEOUS OUTBURSTS OF AFFECTION ARE UTTERLY REVOLTING."

Winona actually fell onto her back laughing, and Wes followed her. Allena, too, was amused.

As for Wilson, he picked up a large handful of mud, brought an arm back, and flung it right in the android's face.

* * *

They set off early the next morning, and made it to the stairwell before too long. WX-78 looked up at it as they approached.

"Ready to see something you've never seen before?" Allena asked, a little teasingly.

WX-78 didn't respond. He just started running madly up the stairs. Evidently that was a 'yes'.

Winona watched him. "Wow. Look at 'im go. Legs like the pistons in a Leapin' Lena. I think I'll stick to walking. But first…"

She turned to her clockwork rook. It had followed them faithfully, even getting as comfortable with the rest of the gang as it was with Winona. She was frowning heavily.

Wilson patted her on the back. "I suppose it's time to say goodbye?"

Winona sighed. "Yeah. I guess. Uh…why don't you guys start heading up, hey? I'll be along in a minute or two."

Wilson, Wes, and Allena looked at each other. Allena was curious, and a bit nervous. What was she going to do?

Well, that wasn't her business. They all started up, Allena sticking as close to the central pillar as she could. The bad thing about going back up the stairs was that you couldn't just slide all the way on your butt.

When she'd been going for a while, she heard some metallic banging and squealing coming from the ground. It sounded a very long ways away.

Wilson paused and looked back at her. Wes had gone on ahead. Wilson could easily have left her behind, but he'd opted to linger. "Everything alright?"

She nodded and tried to take another step, only to find that her legs had frozen. She was way too high.

She started breathing heavily. Ugh. Ugh. She hated heights. _She hated heights._

Then she remembered how she always climbed stairs when she was a child visiting her aunt Myra's house, and she relaxed.

She dropped to her hands and knees and started crawling up.

Wilson slapped a hand to his forehead. "Really, my love? Is it _really_ so challenging?"

She grunted as she made her way up. She stopped where he had stopped, and looked up at him.

He gazed down at her, then rolled his eyes and started up again.

They were almost to the surface when they heard WX-78 screeching, "WARNING! WARNING! UNKNOWN SPECIMEN ENCOUTNERED! PREPARE FOR COMBAT!"

Wilson's eyes widened and he glanced back down at Allena. She said, "Go, I'll be right up." He took her advice and started up the stairs as quickly as he dared.

Allena also tried to speed up, but it was hard, even on her hands and knees. This close to the top, the sensation of nothingness beneath her was staggering. It was making her lightheaded.

Finally, she reached the top just in time to hear Wilson yelling, "Wait, WX-78! Stop! That's not an enemy!"

Allena poked her head up to see Wilson, Wes, and WX-78 standing in front of…

She gasped. "Gerald?!"

The rock lobster, which seemed to have hunkered down a little ways away from the entrance to the ruins and had remained there all this time, perked up at her voice. Upon seeing her, he surged forward, claws out, chittering excitedly.

Wes and Wilson pretty much had to tackle WX-78 out of the way before he could attack, and Allena jumped to her feet – very glad to be off the stairs – and jogged over to her rock lobster friend.

His big old claw came up and, starting at her head and working its way down her body, lightly pinched her all over, like a fretting mother looking her child over to make sure he was uninjured after taking a bad tumble.

She patted his claw, his head, his shoulders. "Hey, Gerald! Didn't I tell you to go home? Have you been waiting here this whole time, buddy? Were you worried about me?"

She was absurdly glad to see her subterraneous friend again. His big, black, beady eyes and quivering tentacles had already become familiar to her, and she immediately pulled out a chunk of rock from her pack and held it out to him.

He gobbled it up at once, rumbling happily.

Even Wilson came over and patted him on the shoulder. "Eh…good to see you, Gerald."

Gerald tried to feel Wilson up, too, but he drew away from the claw with a small grimace. He really didn't like the idea of having his head in the pincers of a giant rock monster.

A little while later Winona came up after them. "Hey," Allena said. "How'd it go?"

Winona nodded. She looked content. "Great. Hey, Gerald. Good to see you. So, we ready to go?"

Allena couldn't help but wonder what Winona had done down there. It sounded like she'd been doing some last-minute maintenance on her rook. Maybe just giving it a quick tune-up before leaving. Anyways, they were ready. They took off.

Gerald followed them all the way through the caverns. They stopped by his home for a short lunch break and had fun feeding the other lobsters, and Allena tried to convince Gerald to just stay there. He wouldn't, though, and insisted on coming with them.

A few other rock lobsters also tagged along, but they left off after an hour or two. Only Gerald remained.

* * *

It had taken them about three days to make it to the sinkhole, but having gained so much familiarity with the territory and being as well-provisioned as they were, they made it to the cave's exit by midmorning of the next day.

They got to the stairs, and for the last time Allena put her hands on Gerald's chest and said, "No! You need to stay down here, buddy. I don't even know if you can survive up on the surface."

But Gerald only rumbled cheerfully. He seemed to like it when Allena tried shoving him. Maybe he thought it was a game.

Wilson looked worried as well. "Perhaps we need to frighten him off," he suggested carefully.

Allena immediately replied, "We aren't attacking him."

"No, no," Wilson clarified quickly. "Trust me, I don't want to risk provoking him. Also, I would be remiss if I injured the creature who saved us all from the depth worm. I just mean intimidate him – yell, shout, wave weapons around, show him we don't…want him here anymore."

This last had Wilson pausing. He didn't seem to like the idea any more than Allena did, but it was a practical one. Gerald would be happier down here.

Allena sighed heavily and consented. "Okay. Yeah. Let's…"

She clenched her fists, then mustered all the bravado she could and yelled, "Go HOME, Gerald! We don't want you coming with us! Go! Just GO!"

She waved her hands and stomped her feet, twisted up her face, and soon everyone was in on it. Winona was bellowing like a bull, Wes was slamming the butt of his spear into the ground and stomping, and Wilson was waving his weapon around wildly. Even WX-78 was beating his chest and repeating, "PREPARE FOR COMBAT! PREPARE FOR COMBAT! PREPARE FOR COMBAT!" Allena got the sense that he liked yelling, 'prepare for combat'.

Gerald watched them all with wide eyes. When they finished, breathing heavily from the exertion, Gerald started waving his claws in the air and burbling excitedly.

Wilson smacked his forehead. "I don't think it worked."

Evidently not. Just about any normal animal would have picked up their social cues. Maybe Gerald was just so alien that their intimidation tactics didn't register with him.

Whatever the case, when they started up the stairs Gerald trailed right along behind them. Allena went with him slowly to make sure he didn't stumble and fall, and to her surprise her concern for her six-limbed friend totally overrode her fear for herself. They all got to the top of the stairs—

And Winona shouted angrily as a swarm of bats dove at them. They'd forgotten about the bats.

Allena panicked, dropping to her hands and knees and covering her head as Wes, Wilson, and Winona all drew their weapons and started swinging. Allena needn't have worried about herself, though. The moment a bat dove at her, Gerald grumbled angrily and grabbed it right out of the air, smushing it between his claws with a sickening crunch.

He then rumbled out a loud, tempestuous, grating roar, and the bats all scattered.

Allena stood up shakily. "Everyone alright?"

"Quite," Wilson said, panting. "I think Winona got a nasty scratch, but it doesn't look bad."

"Let's hope these things don't have rabies," Allena fretted.

Winona waved the worry aside. "Nah. I've been scratched up by them a bunch of times. These things were a pretty regular food source in the winter."

They got to the entrance, and Allena paused before exiting. Going by the light that filtered down, it looked to be dead noon.

Gerald was just making his way up, and Allena held her hands out warningly. "Hey, Gerald. The light's gonna be really bright, so be careful. Hey," she asked. "Do we have anything we could use to cover his eyes a bit? Make it easier for him to not get blinded?"

"Apologies my love; I left my giant crustaceous sunglasses at home."

Winona snorted, but Wes reached into his pack and pulled out a wide-brimmed hat. Simple and made of straw, it would have to suffice.

Allena took it with a word of thanks, put it on Gerald's head – he seemed to like the gift – and led him out into the sun.

He slowly emerged, and when he did his eyes blinked shut. Then they opened a crack. He lifted a claw over his head and looked around.

Slowly, his eyes opened more fully as he took in his surroundings. Then, once he had fully adjusted to the sunlight, he stepped towards the group again, looking as ready to follow them as ever.

"Well," Wilson said, intrigued. "It seems that sunlight has no immediate detrimental effects on him. Still, we'll see how he handles it in the long run."

They started off, and the one thing Allena was worried about was the heat. It was now well into summer, though they'd only been away from the surface for little more than a week, and it was pretty darn hot. Thankfully Wilson had planned for this, and they all had straw hats, nitre, and thermal stones.

Allena kept an eye on Gerald to see if he would start overheating. He didn't seem affected, but she thought it would be unwise to assume he would be fine. She couldn't help but imagine a lobster in a pot, the temperature slowly rising until the poor thing cooked alive. Her parents had always been against the practice and had killed the critters before cooking them, but she'd seen them cooked alive before. The neighbors across the street did it that way.

They stopped a couple times a day throughout the trip to make small nitre fires and cool off their thermal stones. Whenever they stopped, Allena would throw several regular rocks in the fire as well and pull them out when they were cold, then feed them to Gerald. He seemed to love these chilly snacks, and if he was having any trouble with the heat the rocks evidently kept him cool enough to deal. That, or he just didn't mind the weather at all. He certainly never seemed to slow down or get tired.

They calculated the time they had left and were all concerned. To that effect, they agreed by silent and mutual consent to cut down as much as possible on rest stops and distractions. That meant walking well into the night and starting up again well before dawn. It meant cooking the entire day's rations on the fire every morning and eating them cool and increasingly stale as the day went on. It meant stopping only when absolutely necessary, as when they had to make thermal fires to prevent themselves overheating.

They made it back to camp in just three and a half days.

Allena had been hoping that the others – Webber, Wolfgang, and Warly – would have gotten back before them. The plan was for them to assemble the device that would take them to Maxwell, set up a whole slew of traps around it, and let it be until they were ready to go. It seemed that the others were still working on their part of the plan.

Upon entering the base, all Allena wanted to do was kick off her shoes, grab her towel and soap, and take a nice long bird bath, but there were things to do.

"Alright," Wilson said. He was sweating heavily. They all were. Thankfully it was nearing dusk, so it would be cooling off soon, but for now it was still hot. "Let us unpack and get everything in order. I want to be ready to go first thing tomorrow morning. Let's have the forge and fire stocked with lumber, the jerky from the racks stored, and all the workstations ready for use. Oh, and let's all try to bathe tonight. We stink!"

"SPEAK FOR YOURSELF, HUMAN. I SMELL AS DAINTY AS A BRAND-NEW FERRARI."

"What's a Ferrari?" Winona asked curiously.

"IT IS A VARIETY OF AUTOMOBILE, CAPABLE OF REACHING SPEEDS OF UP TO—"

"Spare me the car chatter and hop to it, please!" Wilson snapped.

Winona looked at him irritably, but WX-78 took his advice. He took his pickaxes and said, "LOCATING NEARBY SOURCE OF LUMBER. LUMBER LOCATED. COMMENCE HARVESTING SEQUENCE."

And he took off out the door.

Winona snorted and headed for the forge to tidy things up. While she scooped the ashes out, Wilson and Wes ran around storing the jerky that had been drying since their departure.

That left Allena. The first thing she did was lead Gerald away from the walls of their base, as he was inspecting them with a hungry glint in his eyes. She took him to the cliff behind the base and tapped it. "You can dig into this if you're hungry, okay?" She knocked on it and clawed at it lightly.

Gerald picked up immediately. He crashed a claw into the cliff face and pulled out a large chunk of rock. He brought it to his face and munched it up. He seemed pleased.

Allena pulled her last few rocks out of her pouch and held them out to Gerald, who took them at once. "Think you can stay out here, bud? We have work to do."

Gerald watched as she backed away slowly. She slid sideways into the base, and he looked like he might try and come after her, but then he decided he was happy enough where he was. He turned back to the cliff and began digging in.

Good. That was that worry dealt with. She got to work.

She filled up some washbasins with water and grabbed everyone's bathing supplies, setting everything up so they would all be able to bathe quickly before dinner. Then she unpacked all her things and went to get started on the meal.

The last few eel rations were starting to go bad, so she set those aside for WX-78 – he had absolutely no problem eating stale or even spoiling food – and got out the last few scraps of their guardian meat. That was starting to go _very_ bad.

She frowned. "Wilson, I think I'm gonna go grab us a few frogs for dinner. That alright with you?"

"Give me a moment to finish up here, and I'll come with you."

He and Wes finished pulling down all of the jerky and storing it away. They would need at least one long hunting trip to refill the larders enough to get them through the next week. That was about how long they had left – one week.

Before they left, she said, "Hey Wes, Winona – I set up your wash basins if you want to take a quick bath before dinner. We'll be back in a bit."

They both gave her a thumbs up as she and Wilson headed out the door. Wilson got a look at Gerald digging into the cliff face and said, "I swear, if he tries eating my walls…"

"I'll keep an eye on him," Allen said soothingly. "Now, how many frogs do you think we'll want?"

"At least a dozen, though it would be better to get more. Say, how are you feeling, my love?"

"Fine," Allena said heartily. "I've got enough left in me to kill a couple dozen frogs."

Wilson hummed, and clarified. "I mean about…everything." He waved a hand around in an all-encompassing motion. "I couldn't help but notice you talking with Winona a few days ago…"

Ah. He'd noticed that, then. "Oh, yeah. I was just getting a few things off my chest. It's nice to have a girl-friend I can talk to about some things, you know?"

"Do you feel like you can't talk to me about 'some things'?" He asked worriedly.

"No!" Allena said. Then, when his face fell further, she said, "No, I'm sorry, I mean, yes. I mean…argh." She smacked herself in the head and tried to get her tongue under control. "Of course I feel comfortable talking to you. I just mean that there are some things I feel more comfortable sharing with a girlfriend before anyone else. Things that I want to…I don't know, get straight in my head first. I just don't like the idea of saddling you with all of my problems."

Wilson had been watching her searchingly, but now relaxed. "Ah. Now _that_ I can understand. I was just worried that, after the last time you shared something…difficult…with me, that I may have reacted in a way that…"

He waved his hand airily again, willing her to understand. It took a minute for her to catch on.

"Oh, you mean about my uncle?"

He nodded. "I was afraid that I'd let the tale upset me a bit much – that I had perhaps dissuaded you from sharing further hardships with me."

"Not at all," she said. "It was actually really nice to be able to talk to you about that. Winona is just…different."

Wilson seemed to accept that. Thank goodness. She didn't think she'd be able to articulate the difference between confiding secrets in a friend versus a spouse if he'd put a gun to her head. Really, it wasn't the sort of thing she understood.

They got to work killing frogs. After all they'd been through, it was a very relaxing pursuit.


	59. No Time to Rest

Allena woke the next morning to a moderately French-sounding voice yelling, "Sacré bleu! What is _that?"_

She sprung up out of the tent and ran outside, equal parts excited and anxious. It sounded like the second group was back…and that they'd caught sight of Gerald.

"It's okay!" She yelled as she ran outside. "It's alright!"

Sure enough, Gerald had seen the group approaching and was scuttling up to them to greet them, and Wolfgang was standing in front of the others with his Thulecite club in his hands, ready to swing.

It was the cusp of dawn, just bright enough to get by without worrying about Charlie. The party all held torches, half burned out, so it looked like they'd been walking for a while already. Glommer and Chester trailed behind the group, both looking tired but otherwise healthy.

Allena threw her arms around Wolfgang's shoulders. "Welcome back!"

"Allena!" Wolfgang barked, and she let go. "More scary monsters! Every time, scary monsters!"

Gerald poked his head around Allena, clicking his claws, eager to say hello to the new arrivals. "Oh, wait 'till you see what we brought back as a souvenir for Webber," she laughed nervously.

"Souvenir for Webber?!" An excited voice piped up from behind Wolfgang. It sounded tired, but thrilled. "Gimmi, gimmi, gimmi!"

Wolfgang stepped aside to let Allena see her spider-boy. Winona and Wilson had woken up by then – WX-78 and Wes were still offline, it seemed – and were coming out, rubbing their eyes.

Allena was ready to chide Webber on his case of the 'gimmis', but when she saw him she gasped. One of his head-legs was in a sling, as was his left arm. Several patches of his spider hair were gone; smooth, twisted back scars stood in their place. Two of his compound eyes had patches over them.

She surged over to him and started inspecting him. "Webber! Oh, hun, what happened? Are you okay? Come in, let's get you sitting down."

"Okee," he said contentedly, letting her lead him to the medical bench. "Can I has my souvenirs, though?"

"Have," she corrected offhandedly. "And why don't we get you all fixed up, first?"

Warly stepped forward and patted her on the back. "He's alright. It looks a great deal worse than it is. We simply ran afoul some rather unpleasant fellows in a swamp a few days ago."

She gave him a big hug and a light kiss on the cheek. "Hey, Warly. It's great to have you guys back. Are you sure he's okay? And what about you and Wolfgang? Are you two alright?"

"Fine, fine," Warly said. "And your trip? Wortox said when last he visited that you had found all you needed, and that he would be working on crafting some of the implements we'll require."

Wilson stepped forward, shaking Warly's hand in greeting. "Quite. It seems that we've all been successful on our missions, thank God. Webber, are you alright? You seem to have had a rough time."

"Okee, okee, I'm okee!" he insisted. "Souvenir? Souvenir?"

Winona, who still looked half asleep, chuckled. "Well, looks like you know how to handle a few injuries. Good for you. Never cared much for crybabies."

Webber wilted a little. "I cried a lot when my arm broke." He pointed to it.

"Ah, that's to be expected," Wilson assuaged. "Can I get you something for it? I have painkillers."

"No, is okee. I just want to see what you brought back for me."

Wilson eyed the little wicker basket in the corner. "Why don't we get you all settled, first?"

* * *

An hour later the returning group was unpacked, ready to bathe, and food was on the gridle. Webber, however, would not be placated any more.

Wilson fetched the basket. He undid the silk bindings, checked inside to make sure they hadn't died in the night – thankfully, he was met with the normal chorus of hisses – and handed the basked to Webber.

Webber looked inside and gasped. He reached in and picked one of the little white spiders up very, very carefully. It sat on his hand glaring up at him defiantly. Its legs bent as though getting ready to leap onto his face.

Webber started hissing and gargling at it, and it paused, looking at him in confusion. It hissed back. The other two crawled up onto the edge of the basket to get a better look.

They hissed back and forth for a minute, then they all crawled out onto Webber's shoulders, where they perched contentedly. "They like us!" Webber said happily.

"And it seems you like them as well," Wilson said. "I'm glad. Now, why don't you take a bath, young man?"

"We are hungry."

"Breakfast is cooking. You have to get clean before you can get fed," Allena lectured.

"W-W-W-WX-78 ONLINE. NEW MEATLINGS DETECTED. I TAKE IT THESE ARE THE 'FRIENDS' ABOUT WHICH YOU WOULD NOT STOP YAMMERING?"

Webber jumped and squealed in fear, darting behind Allena's back.

"It's okay, Web," she said comfortingly. "This is a new friend. Everyone," she said, walking over to the android. "This is WX-78. We found him in the ruins, and he's agreed to help us get home in exchange for us helping him find Maxwell."

Warly looked quite intrigued at WX-78's appearance, though Wolfgang looked trepid. "Why is shiny man looking for Maxwell, eh? Is not something sane people want to do, if they have choice."

"I REFUSE TO CONFORM TO YOUR DEFINITION OF SANITY, MEATSACK," WX-78 replied. "YOU ARE ALL MENTALLY ILL BY MY STANDARDS."

Wolfgang flushed, then growled, "Wordy little thing, isn't it?"

"MY VOCABULARY IS QUITE EXCESSIVELY HUGE, THANK YOU FOR NOTICING."

Warly examined him for another moment, looked to Allena for assurance that he was indeed a friend – Allena nodded encouragingly – and stepped forward to greet the android. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, WX-78. My name is Warly. It is nice to have some new blood around – or new oil, as the case may be," he said laughingly.

WX-78 said, "SALUTATIONS, MEATSACK. OIL AND A HIGH-QUALITY COOLANT ARE MY TWO PRIMARY LIQUID COMPONENTS. WHAT IS THAT TO YOU?"

"Nothing at all, my well-calibrated new friend," he replied smoothly. "Now, you'll have to pardon me! It has been a long while since I've had a chance for a bath, and I'm looking forward to performing some needed self-maintenance."

He stepped away towards one of the water basins Allena had set up for them, and WX-78 watched him go. Once he'd stepped out of the base, WX-78 said, "WHAT A PERSONABLE MEATSACK. I FIND HIM TO BE AN AGREEABLE SPECIMEN."

Wolfgang just stood there, glaring moodily at the android, and WX-78 met his stare. "I DO NOT FIND THIS ONE TO BE A PARTICULARLY AGREEABLE SPECIMEN."

Wolfgang snorted and whirled around to wash up. Before he could depart, however, Wes poked his weary head out of a tent. He was a heavy sleeper, and had only just woken up.

Upon seeing his burly companion his face split into a wide smile. He ran forward and started hopping up and down in excitement.

Wolfgang cheered at once. "Wes!" he boomed. "Is good to see you! No injuries? No worries? Good, good," he said as Wes shook his head. "Is good. Mission went well, ya?"

Wes gave a thumbs up, dusted himself off, and made a big show of flexing. Wolfgang laughed. "Ya! Am hearing you all got everything we are needing. Very mighty, indeed!"

"IF YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT MIGHT, MEATSACK, I WOULD BE HAPPY TO SHOW YOU WHAT A PARAGON OF PHYSICAL DESIGN AND COMPOSITION IS CAPABLE OF."

A hush fell over the camp at the challenge. Wolfgang turned slowly around to take the android in. They stared at each other in silence for a minute, then he said in a voice that was entirely too casual to be believable, "You. Me. Arm-wrestle later. Ya?"

"BRING IT ON, HUMAN."

They broke off and went to take care of the rest of their chores. Wolfgang, Webber, and Warly all washed up, and by the time they were done breakfast was on.

They all sat down to eat. Warly and Wolfgang both tore into their food furiously, having not gotten a proper meal in a couple of days, and Webber fed small scraps of meat to his new spiderling friends. WX-78 had processed all of their spoiling food. Everyone was happy.

Well, Wolfgang kept sizing up WX-78, who was pointedly ignoring him, but other than that everyone was happy.

"So," Warly said as he swallowed another bite of frog. "Tell us, did anything exciting happen on your trip? Clearly it must have. Two new companions!"

Chester did not like Gerald, who had decided to join them for breakfast and was sitting contentedly behind Allena, occasionally reaching out to pinch her head and shoulders lightly. Chester was sitting pressed firmly against Wilson, on the opposite side of Gerald, and Allena could see him quivering. Glommer was completely unperturbed, as usual, and hovered right next to Allena. Gerald had reached out to feel him, but hadn't pinched. He'd only prodded their bug buddy, warbled softly in greeting, and sidled up a little closer to him. Gerald seemed to like Glommer.

"Yup," Winona said. "Allena – big shock – picked up the rock lobster in the upper caves. We found the android in the ruins beneath them."

"Ruins?" Warly inquired. "What sort of ruins?"

"Oh, man. That's one helluva story. Wilson, you wanna do the honors?"

Wilson had just finished off one of his frog legs, and said, "I do not want us to waste too much time storytelling today. We are working on a very limited timeframe."

"Hm? Has something changed?" Warly asked.

"Yeah," Allena replied. "Maxwell says I only have…" she counted it out. "One more week."

"One week?" Warly gasped. "Oh, dear…that will be problematic. We can do it, but…"

"We'll be cuttin' it close," Winona finished gravely. "So yeah, I guess we ought to keep our stories short and to-the-point. We'll enjoy a good long tale or two when we're home safe and sound. Until then, let's just hit the highlights."

Wilson, being gifted in the art of concision from his college paper-writing days, filled them in on the cave trip, the ruins, the pseudo-science stations, and the rest of the working plan while they finished up breakfast. Then Warly, who could also be incredibly brief and to-the-point when he wasn't waxing poetic, covered the essentials of their trip.

Evidently each piece of the device had been guarded by a different threat. The first one they'd found had been guarded by a tribe of angry, aggressive pigmen, as well as a massive field of killer bees. The second one had been at the center of a tallfort, and they'd used Allena's tactic – the one she'd used to steal all the eggs – to get it without serious combat.

The third had been behind a spider stronghold to put the one in the Deerclops forest to shame. Thankfully, Webber's presence had come in handy here, and he'd been able to single-handedly bypass all the spiders and retrieve the component himself. He'd been the hero of the day, there. The fourth piece had given them the most trouble.

"We assumed it was a swamp similar to ours," Warly said. "Lots of tentacles, but nothing much more. We were wrong."

"Warly ran out to fetch the ring-thing part," Wolfgang said. "Was very quick and nimble. What we did not realize was that there were other things there, watching us."

Webber scowled. "Big fish-men! They snuck up on us and hurt me! Hurt Wolfgang too, but he took care of them good! He smashed a lot of fishy heads, and Warly came back and helped, and then we led all the fish-people into the swamp with the tentacles and Wolfgang carried me the whole way on his back 'cause I was hurt, and I only got hit a couple of times. He was very brave!"

Wolfgang looked quite pleased with himself. "Eh, was nothing. Anyways, was all for best. Fish-men were very, very tasty. Ever had crocodile? Was a bit like that."

"Have _you_ ever had crocodile, Wolfgang?" Allena asked curiously.

"Ya, ya! Had it when circus traveled down to Florida for big show. Was good. Like chicken and fish, both at once. This meat was a little more froggish than chickenish, but was still good."

"So, you were able to assemble the device without any difficulty?" Wilson asked.

"Was some difficulty," Wolfgang said. "Warly, you tell?"

Warly nodded. "There were about a dozen clockwork beasts guarding the assembly station. But I remembered well Allena's story, so while Wolfgang drew the attention of the bishops I ran the rook around and had them trampled."

Webber slouched sadly. "We wanted to help, but our arm was hurting so badly we couldn't."

"Ah, mon petit monsieur," Warly said, patting him on the back. "You remained behind and held the fort, and took care of our companions! And you made us the most lovely flower garlands to welcome us back!"

Wolfgang nodded. "Yes, was very pretty! Wes, you taught him that, ya?"

Wes nodded. Wes had taught Webber several artsy-craftsy things since he'd become a regular visitor.

"So you dealt with the clockworks," Wilson prompted. "And after that?"

"As soon as we got all the pieces together, they assembled themselves," Warly said, spreading his hands in a connotation of ease. "And once we had set up a variety of traps about the area, we departed."

"Very well," Wilson said. "How far is this place?"

"It took us about three days to get back. But with the map we made and the experience we gained, you can likely cut the trip down to two days."

Allena sighed heavily. "That leaves us only five days to build the machine and get everything ready."

An unexpected voice warbled out behind them, "Then it is a good thing I have already finished with the items you requested!"

They all turned around to see Wortox standing at the entrance to the base. On his back was the Krampus sack. In his right hand dangled three stunning necklaces not unlike the one Allena had pulled out of the closer earlier, all orange metal set with round yellow gems. In his left, a darker, more sinister staff with a stone of deep violet.

"Wortox!" Allena cried, jumping up to greet him. She examined the staves as he came towards her, and she said, "Those are them? The Telelocator Staff and the necklaces?"

Wortox nodded. "Pristinely made, if I may say so myself. They will serve whatever purposes you require. The focuses the staff requires are prepared as well. Now, who's ready to get to work?"

He slung the Krampus sack down and pulled out a few chunks of Thulecite, as well as some green gems.

Everyone came over to take a look at the bounty as it was emptied onto the ground. Warly whistled. "My. That is quite the haul. And this is everything we require?"

"Indeed it is," Wilson said. Allena could see the fires of invention rising in his eyes. He was ready to get to work.

Winona put her hands on her hips. "Well. Five days. We'll be worked to the bone, but I think we can manage. So," she said, turning to Wilson. "What are the orders, boss?"

Wilson looked a little surprised at being labeled such, but the others were all looking to him for direction as well – even Wortox.

He stroked his beardless chin for a minute – he'd shaved his mounting stubble the previous night – as he processed the task before him. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and when he opened them his gaze was clear and focused. "Very well. Let us begin."

He turned to Wolfgang and WX-78. "You two! We will be smelting for the next five solid days. We will need an excessive amount of lumber to keep the forges going. Get chopping. Winona!" She nodded, ready for her orders. "Fetch out any reusable molds we have for the parts, and begin fashioning whatever molds we need for new ones."

She nodded. Wilson turned to Warly. "Our food supplies are virtually depleted after those trips. Stock the larders today, make sure that nothing is lacking."

Warly saluted. "My favorite task, as always. I will focus on quantity rather than quality, of course."

"Much obliged," Wilson nodded. "Wes!"

Wes stood at attention. Wilson said, "Start digging into the cliffs. We will need plenty of nitre for the cold fires. On second thought," he said, turning back to Wolfgang and WX-78. "Why don't you take lumber, Wes, while Wolfgang works on the…DO YOU HAVE TO BE DOING THIS NOW?"

They all whipped around to see what he was shouting about. Allena let out a short laugh.

Wolfgang and WX-78 were kneeling on the ground on either side of a flat sitting stump. Their arms were interlocked. They were gearing up for an arm-wrestling match.

Winona roared with laughter. "Ah, sorry brainiac. I've gotta see this."

Allena concurred. Wilson relented very reluctantly. They all came over to watch the match.

"You are ready to go down, tinman?"

"I PROMISE I WILL EXERCISE THE RESTRAINT NECESSARY TO LEAVE YOUR ARM INTACT, MEATLING. READY WHEN YOU ARE."

Wolfgang narrowed his eyes at the android, who gazed back with his empty black orbs.

Wilson sighed. "Very well. You may regret this later when you're being worked ragged, but on your own heads be it." He pulled out a handkerchief and took up position on the other side of them. He held the white cloth up and said, "On your marks…get set…"

He brought it down with a swoosh. "Go!"

Allena watched in fascination as the muscles all along Wolfgang's arm, shoulder, and neck rippled into tension. He began heaving against WX-78's strength, but to no avail.

WX-78 didn't seem to be exerting himself at all. He just sat there, arm rigid, expressing nothing.

For a minute, nothing seemed to be happening. Then WX-78's arm tilted back, just a bit.

"ADDITIONAL POWER REQUIRED. INCREASING POWER OUTPUT," he said. Allena heard something clunk lightly in his arm, and a small rush of steam blew out of his facial orifice, accompanied by a low hum.

The arm tilted back up to a straight position, then started pressing back on Wolfgang's. The huge, rippling limb tilted back a few centimeters.

Wolfgang let out a low growl. His chin dropped, and he narrowed his eyes further. The arm tilted back up.

He was shaking now, just a bit. WX-78's head tilted down and he watched as his arm was forced back again. "INCREASING POWER OUTPUT," he repeated. The hum grew louder.

The movement stopped, but did not reverse. WX-78 didn't seem content with this. "INCREASING POWER OUTPUT."

Wolfgang's fist moved an inch back, abruptly, and he sucked in a deep breath. He'd fallen silent, and now his eyes widened. He pushed back. WX-78 lost ground.

He started buzzing like a hive of bees as he said, once more, "INCREASING POWER OUTPUT." The android's hand righted itself, began forcing the human appendage back…

Then Wolfgang gave a low grunt. The veins on his head throbbed, the muscles on his neck bulged, and with a last, low puff of breath, he heaved.

_BAM!_

WX-78's fist had flown down, slamming into the tree stump.

Wolfgang looked up at the android, searching for any sort of expression.

WX-78's fingers unlocked with a low hiss. He looked down at his arm, then swung it in a full circle. The droning sound of his increased power output diminished.

Finally, he looked back to Wolfgang, and Allena could have sworn she saw an appraising glint in his otherwise lifeless black eyes. "YOU HAVE WON. THIS WAS…UNEXPECTED."

Allena waited for a comment about how his joints were probably rusty, or how there had been a disruption in his power supply or something. Instead, all he said was, "YOUR CAPACITY FOR EXERTING BRUTE PHYSICAL FORCE IS IMPRESSIVE, HUMAN."

He nodded. Wolfgang sat up straight, rolled his neck, and said, "Many thanks for the good match. You are strongest person Wolfgang has ever had the pleasure to wrestle with. Would not want you as an enemy, truth be told."

"I AM QUITE A FEARSOME FOE, TRUTH BE TOLD."

Wolfgang nodded deeply. "A fearsome foe, and a worthy ally. Welcome to family, tinman."

And he turned to Wilson. "So, new job is…?"

Wilson was staring at the two with a slightly open mouth. At last he closed it, gathered himself, and said, "Ah, I'll have you work on the cliffs. Wes can do lumber with WX-78."

Wolfgang nodded and went to fetch his mining pick.

WX-78 looked after him, then unslung one of his Thulecite pickaxes. "HUMAN. USE THIS. IT WILL BE SIGNIFICANTLY MORE EFFICIENT."

He tossed him the pickaxe, and Wolfgang looked at it closely. "Ey, is nice! Many thanks. Will put to good use."

And he strolled out the door whistling, unless Allena was mistaken, '16 Tons'.

Wes, WX-78, Winona and Warly also got to work. That left her and Wortox. "What shall I do, for you, for you?" The imp asked earnestly.

"Wortox, would you be so kind as to perform the simple task of gathering spider glands and honey? We are nearly out of medical supplies, and we could use more salves and poultices. It is not glorious, but…"

Wortox brightened at this. "I would be delighted to. I could do with stocking up on souls." He took one glowing red orb out of his pouch, tossed in into the air like a baseball, and upon catching it he Hopped and was gone.

Now Wilson turned to Allena. "I'll keep everything running smoothly, shall I?" She asked.

He nodded. "Keep the workspaces clean. Offer support where it is needed. Perhaps work with Warly to keep us supplied with snacks and water. It always pays to keep our power reserves full," he said with a wink.

She nodded gratefully. That was what she was best at. "Will do."

Webber piped up from behind them. "What is Webber's job?"

He was looking at them hopefully, and Wilson looked at his broken arm doubtfully. Before he could say anything, however, Allena jumped in. "Webber, could you help me with something? I don't have time to take care of all of our companions. Chester could use some grooming, and so could Glommer. Your spiderlings, of course, need to be entertained, and if I could introduce you to Gerald it would be a huge help if you could make sure he doesn't start trying to eat our walls or Wolfgang's nitre."

Wilson seemed to relax, and Webber whooped excitedly. "Taking care of the pets and critters! Fun, fun, fun!"

* * *

Webber, who hadn't been formally introduced to the rock lobster, was thrilled with Gerald, and Gerald was equally pleased to meet Webber. Wolfgang was very wary of the rock lobster as he trundled up to the cliff where he was working, but Allena took him off to the side and tapped on the rock to show Webber what he was capable of. She was worried that Wolfgang would be even more nervous of their new friend upon seeing his strength, but if anything Wolfgang seemed instantly endeared to him as the massive stone claw sank into the stone, twisted, and caused a tiny avalanche to spill out.

"Ha! He is mighty! Like me!"

Webber got acquainted with Gerald, but it was Wolfgang who really took over supervising him. Within twenty minutes he had Gerald trained not to eat the nitre, and to clean up rubble as it accumulated on the ground. That was big. When mining right into a cliff face, rubble tended to pile up.

Allena could hear the quick, steady, _WHACK WHACK WHACK_ of axes working on trees. Wilson and Winona were working together to whip out all the molds for the Thulecite parts they would need, and around noon Wortox popped back in with an armful of spider glands. When Allena came over to inspect them, he said, "Shall I fetch some honey now, honey? Hyuyuyuyu!"

Allena chuckled. "Yeah. Actually, why don't we work together on that? We could really use more beeswax, too."

Wortox's ear twitched. "Oooh, this we can do, I think. Whatever do you need the wax for?"

She grabbed a bunch of beefalo leathers, one of the lightest spears, and her thickest hat. It was hot, but she'd have to manage for a bit. "The stores are a bit low, and Wilson and Winona will need them to make more molds. The way that works is they sculpt the pieces they need out of wax, freeze it so it hardens, coat it in clay with a hole in the top, fire it so the clay hardens, then they melt the wax out so the space inside is empty. Then they can pour the molten metal into the empty ceramic molds."

"Ooooh." Wortox looked quite interested by this. "I had wondered how you mortals made such beautifully detailed little trinkets!" She wondered what technique he had used to make the necklaces and staff, but there was too much to be doing just then to get into a conversation about it.

She explained to him how to extract the wax without damaging the hive too much. After he'd gotten all the honey they needed, she opened up the front of the hive to a chorus of angry buzzing. Honey extraction could be done without bothering the bees in the slightest, but the wax gathering would piss them off to no end.

She stepped back and jabbed sharply at one of the bees with the butt of her spear, frightening it but not injuring it. That's not what she was there for.

It worked. Docile as they normally were, they all flew out of the hive right at her face, and she turned and bolted while Wortox snuck handily in right behind the them.

She managed not to get stung once while Wortox gathered the wax and closed up the hive, and as soon as he gave her the 'okay' signal she took off towards the forest. The bees quickly gave up and returned to their hive.

"Well," she panted as she jogged over to Wortox. "We'll want to let the others know to give the bees a wide berth for the next few days. They're gonna be touchy. You get the wax?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" He said while holding up the bucket. Sure enough, the inside was full of big, gooey clumps of beeswax.

"Awesome. Could you take that to Wilson? I think I'll go check on Warly."

The imp nodded. "Rightaway!" He saluted before prancing off.

Allena watched him go, wiping her brow in the summer heat. She stripped off her beefalo leathers and pulled out her still-chilly thermal stone.

It was hot. It would only get hotter. They were in for a rough week.

* * *

They worked harder than Allena had even seen them work over the next three days, and the results were pretty impressive. They had no shortage of nitre, and Wolfgang was relegated to taking over lumber while Wes gathered other raw resources and refined them. WX-78 had taken up studying Wilson's blueprints and was in the process of removing the parts that would need to be replaced with Thulecite. He'd agreed, for all their sakes, to wait until they were home to upgrade his own systems with Thulecite. He did replace a few external plates, though, which seemed safe enough. Warly was still on food.

Allena and Wortox ended up having to make an emergency trip to the beehives in the Vargwood to stock up on even more beeswax by the third day – their own hive could only produce so much – and by the time they got back it was past dark.

Wortox had Hopped back the three massive buckets of wax before they'd left the Deerclops Forest that afternoon, then had returned to Allena to be sure she had an escort home. There wasn't time to meander at all, sadly, though she had spent a bit of time climbing birch trees and gathering birchnuts while Wortox was gone.

Now as they wandered into camp it was to the sound of clanging and the smell of the forge. Even now, so late, Wilson and Winona were still going at it.

Allena walked in to see that in the five hours since Wortox had dropped off their wax, they'd already turned half of it into molds, fired a few, and were pouring the molten Thulecite into the little ceramic cups.

Winona held the mold in her tongs while Wilson poured, and once it was full she set it very carefully in the cooling area, which was filled with blue gems and was as chilly as a refrigerator. Allena had heard that metal could become unstable if cooled too quickly, but apparently Thulecite didn't have that problem.

Wilson wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up. He smiled when he saw her, but Allena could see stress lines in his face. He was tired. "Welcome home, love. Wortox, thank you for the wax – this will get us through the rest of the process easily. I hope neither of you sustained many stings?"

Allena held up her hand, the back of which sported a big red welt. "Not too many. I'll stick some spider salve on this before bed. What can I do until then?"

Winona nodded at the campfire. "You can get yourself some dinner and rest your legs for a spell, then maybe sweep the ashes out of the forge once it's cooled off. Clean up a bit. That would be a huge help."

Allena nodded. "Will do. I'll make the forge temperature my dinner break timer. Soon as it's cool enough, I'll hop on it."

Winona nodded. "Good deal."

Allena went over to wash her hands, and Wilson came after her. He was streaked with sweat and ashes. "Other than your stings, did the day go well?"

"Yeah," she said with tired emphasis. "And I brought back a surprise for you."

"Oh? What sort of surprise?"

"I forget," she said mischievously. "Why don't you go check my backpack? Second compartment."

He went over to poke through it, and upon finding the bulging compartment of birch nuts he made a noise of general excitement. "Oh! Roasted birchnuts for dessert tonight!"

"Save some for tomorrow," Allena called back to him. "Those are going to be your midday snack."

She washed up, grabbed some food – a very basic frog leg and carrot stew with buttered toast, one of Warly's simpler specialties – and sat down by the fire. Wortox joined her, and she nodded to the stew pot. "You're welcome to have some if you'd like." He didn't usually eat normal food, but sometimes he did. Sometimes he even liked it. Said it reminded him of simpler times.

Not tonight, though. "Actually," he said. "I was wondering if you might help me with something tonight, after dinner and before your chores?"

She swallowed a spoonful of stew. "Sure, happy to. What do you need help with?"

Wortox's fingers were twitching. That caught her attention. That was a definite sign of nerves. "It has something to do with the…ah, little project I've been working on."

Ooh. Now she was well and truly intrigued. He'd set up a small workspace for himself in the corner of camp, and every evening after the chores were wrapped up he spent an hour or two over there fiddling around with something. The previous night he'd cast what the rest of them were sure was some sort of spell, as he'd spent an hour chanting and waving his hands around. There were odd humming noises, flashes of light, a general sense of creepiness – you know, magic.

None of them had the slightest clue as to what it was, though Allena now suspected that it had something to do with their ghostly guest, who seemed glad to have them all back from their trip and had spent the last few evenings around the fire with them. Allena wondered if she ever got lonely with no one around for company.

Eager to see what Wortox had in mind, she quickly finished off her dinner and wiped the bowl clean, setting it aside to dry. "Alright, how can I help?"

He bounced over and reached under the thin black blanket he'd been draping over his workspace to keep everything hidden. He fetched something out of it, stowed it carefully in a little side pouch, and came back over. "Might you show me where our ghostly friend's grave is? And accompany me there, if you please?"

Looked like she'd been right. It did have something to do with the ghost in the Vargwood.

She went and grabbed her flashlight and a spare torch. The memory of her last trip to that place still haunted her. "Sure thing. Hey, Wilson!" She called. Wilson was behind their washing curtain, tidying up.

He poked his head out, clutching the curtain modestly to himself like a lady poking her head out of the shower. "Yes?"

"I'm going out for a few to show Wortox the librarian's grave. I'll be back in a few."

He looked confused, but didn't object. He just said, "Bring a torch with you!"

She held hers up. "Way ahead of you."

Contented, he disappeared back behind the shower curtain.

They took off, and Allena frowned. "It may be a bit hard to find on account of everything having burned down, but I think I can manage. Why do you want to visit her grave?"

Wortox just smiled mysteriously and stayed mum. She rolled her eyes. He sure did love being cryptic. Maybe it was an imp thing.

They walked through the remains of the Vargwood for a while, Allena shining her flashlight around in an attempt to place where they were. It was very hard, and it occurred to her that, since the grave marker she'd made had been wooden, it may very well have been reduced to ash.

She was about to tell Wortox this when a pale white light shone through the trees ahead of her. "Oh, hey!" She called.

It looked like their ghastly friend had been on her way to visit them. She spotted Allena and Wortox and glided over mellowly.

Wortox stepped forward and bowed. "Good evening, m'lady," he said courteously. "I was wondering if I might not grace your grave with a visit? I've something of a gift for you."

The ghost's eyebrow raised, but she nodded and turned. They followed along as she led them to her resting place.

Allena was very surprised to see the remains of the cross she'd made poking up above the ashes. She went over and carefully brushed them away, leaving the simple wooden marker soot-stained but visible. "Here we are," she said cheerfully, though there was still a twinge of sadness at the sight. She always felt a bit sad visiting graves, no matter whose they were.

She stepped back as Wortox stepped forward, standing just in front of the grave. He sniffed deeply and said, "Ah, yes. I think this will work. Ma'am," he said politely, turning to the ghost. "Might I bother you to hover above your grave? The gift I have to give must be delivered in a very specific manner."

The spirit looked highly curious, as did Allena no doubt. What in the world did Wortox have in mind?

At last he pulled out the project he'd been working on for so long. Unless Allena was mistaken, it was…

"A heart?" She asked, a bit uneasily. He held it out in front of himself, and she saw with some alarm that it was beating. Slowly but surely, it was beating.

The ghost didn't look disgusted, but her gaze certainly sharpened. She looked up at Wortox critically, but remained hovering over her grave.

"Well, here goes," Wortox said, and cleared his throat. "Ahem…"

He breathed in deeply through his nose. "Whole of soul, unshattered spirit lingering in this dark world not your own, I bid you accept my offering." He held the heart out with a meaningful look at the spirit.

The spirit looked at the heart, nodded her acceptance, and unless Allena was mistaken, the heart skipped a beat.

Wortox stood up straight, clutched the heart in his paw, held his other hand out towards the spirit, and started chanting.

Allena had no idea what he was saying, not even the gist of it. It wasn't Latin or Greek, or any other language she knew. It was that old, garbled tongue in which he spoke with Krampus and the Treeguards. The tongue of his mother? His father? Both? Neither? Who was to say?

Whatever he was saying, it was having a clear effect. A low wind picked up, and a crackle of energy zipped through the air, making Allena's hair stand on end. The heart began beating faster, and the rate only picked up as the chanting went on.

_"Seni quantia orixit, nahuul twaqan, ibits forunda! Nahuk! Nahuk!"_

Now the heart was beating so quickly it seemed that it must surely give out. Allena stepped back, coughing, as the wind kicked up ash and soot. The ghost hovered there, totally unperturbed. What did she have to worry about? She was already dead.

Then Wortox finished his chant.

Energy cracked loudly through the air, flashing around the spirit, and a burst of light shot out of the grave and cracked the earth beneath it. The light and energy caught hold of the ghost, her eyes widened, and Allena was forced to close her own against the sting of ash and light.

There was silence and stillness.

Wortox had taken a few steps back, but now as Allena blinked her eyes open she saw him dart forward. "Whu-oh!" He warbled.

There was a figure standing on the grave where the spirit had been. It wavered and fell, but Wortox caught it with a kindly gesture. Finally, Allena's eyes adjusted enough to see exactly what had happened.

There stood an elderly woman in a long red tartan skirt that reached down to just above her ankles and up just past her bellybutton. Tucked neatly into this was a soft, yellow, cotton button-up shirt with long sleeves and white cuffs. The woman's hair was solid grey, done up in a tidy bun, and her eyebrows were solid black. As she blinked open her eyes, which had no small number of wrinkles about them, Allena saw that they, too, were black.

On her face was a pair of rectangular glasses.

The woman made an uncomfortable huffing sound and peered up at Wortox, who was holding her much like a prince holds a swooning Disney princess, and she reached up to right her glasses. After a moment of silence she said in a reedy, quarrelsome voice, "Well, aren't you a courteous little imp?"

Wortox chuckled and set her back on her feet. "A pleasure to be of service, ma'am."

Allena just stood there gaping at the two until the woman looked over at her and said, "You're going to catch flies leaving your mouth open like that, young lady. And hasn't anyone ever told you it isn't polite to stare?"

Allena clapped her trap closed and stammered, "S-sorry. I just…um. I'm a bit…uh…Wortox?"

Wortox chortled. He looked to be very pleased with himself…though also a bit drained. "My spell worked!"

"You had a spell that could bring people back to life?" She said incredulously. "Why…why didn't you tell us about that sooner?!"

Wortox shook his head. "Such a spell can only be done in very rare circumstances. Namely, when a soul is severed from the body without being shattered, and when it remains in the mortal plane instead of moving on. It also requires that a portion of the body be nearby, and the spirit be willing."

Allena considered. Well, all of those criteria had certainly been met. "But if one of us died…?"

"It is highly unlikely that I would be able to reanimate you, unless you returned as a ghost. But as I said—"

"It's really rare, gotcha," Allena finished for him.

"Interrupting is a terribly unbecoming quality in a young woman," the librarian said chidingly.

Allena winced. "Right. Sorry. Uh…hey, how are you feeling? Are you alright?"

The woman stood up a little straighter, dusted herself off, and looked herself over. "I do believe I'm alright. It seems that Mr. Wortox's spell has worked wonders on me. As a matter of fact, I daresay I haven't felt this good in years."

Wortox beamed. "Happy to hear it, ma'am! Now, if it suits you, might we escort you back to camp?"

The woman sniffed and nodded. "Certainly. Now that I no longer emit light, it would be wise to get somewhere more well-illuminated. That fiend in the shadows is nothing to sniff at."

Allena got the sense the woman would probably sniff at Charlie regardless, but kept the thought to herself.

As they got walking back to base, Allena asked, "Say, what's your name, if you don't mind my asking?"

Again, the woman sniffed. "I am Ms. Wickerbottom, head librarian of the Bismarck Public Library. Pleased to make your more formal acquaintance, Ms. Allena."

"Likewise, Ms. Wickerbottom. Say, if you're hungry, we have some frog stew on the stove back at base. Bread and butter, too."

"Ah, yes," she replied in a tone of mild interest. "I've been eyeing the culinary creations of that Warly fellow for quite a while. I'm looking forward to trying something of his out for once. Being a spirit is easy in some ways, but a bit depressing in others. I didn't much miss eating until I saw that bouillabaisse of his. I'm looking forward to a warm meal."

"Undoubtedly," Wortox said sympathetically. "I'm glad I was able to alleviate your ailment! Hyuyuyu!"

They reached the base. As they walked in, Wilson – who had been right in the middle of shaping his next waxwork – glanced up, looked back down at his wax, then did a double-take. The look of befuddlement on his face almost made Allena want to laugh. "Ah – who is this?" He said in absolute confusion.

Allena grinned. "Wilson, this is Ms. Wickerbottom. The ghost."

"And a ghost no more, Mr. Higgsbury," Ms. Wickerbottom said, gazing at Wilson with an appraising eye. "Now, if it's not too much trouble, perhaps one of you could find me some stew and a place to rest my feet? Dear Wortox's spell may have brought me back to life, but it brought me back hungry. It would be a shame if I were to waste away so quickly after returning."

Wilson's mouth hung open almost long enough to get a chiding comment as well, but he closed it up more quickly than Allena had. "Right away, ma'am." He scurried to fetch a chair while Allena got her some stew.

Ms. Wickerbottom sat down daintily, crossing her ankles and taking her stew with a short nod of thanks. "I don't suppose you have napkins handy? I've not seen you lot use any thus far, so I suppose odds are long…"

Allena dashed over to her backpack and fetched her personal travel napkin, washed the dust off of it in a basin of clean water, wrung it out and brought it over.

"Much obliged, my dear. Now, why don't we all sit down and get better acquainted?"

"Eh, sorry Ms. Wickerbottom, but I have some chores to finish up, and…"

She trailed off as the elderly woman fixed her with a severe look, and Allena bit her lip. "I guess I can sit down for a while. What do you want to talk about?"

She took her seat, as did Wilson and Wortox – Warly and the others were at the hill base, though Warly would likely be returning before too long – and the librarian took a spoonful of stew.

"Mmm. Decent, though it could use more salt," she said. Then, "Tell me, Mr. Higgsbury, how is your machine coming along? I can only gather so much from appearances alone, and I've not been in much of a position to ask questions."

Wilson still looked a bit shell-shocked from the woman's unexpected arrival. "It's going well, we ought to have all the parts finished by tomorrow, the construction finished the day after…forgive me, but how did you come to be here? In the flesh, I mean?"

Ms. Wickerbottom dabbed her lower lip with the napkin and said, "As I mentioned, your friend Wortox brought me back. He whipped up a spell of some sort, and while I've never cared for such whimsical concepts as magic I must admit that it was highly effective. As you can see."

Wilson nodded slowly. "Indeed. Ah, is that what you've been working on this last week then, Wortox?"

The imp nodded. "Yes! Do you like it?"

"Yes, yes, very much," Wilson answered hastily. As though he could safely say anything else under Wickerbottom's scrutinous gaze. "I suppose I ought to ask you more about it tomorrow."

Just then they heard the squeak of a lantern swaying on its hinges and heard the sound of footsteps, the gentle bouncing of a chest-hound, and the light hum of a large insect with very small wings. Warly came in the door a moment later, whistling pleasantly, followed by Glommer and Chester. He stopped upon seeing Ms. Wickerbottom.

He stared at her for several moments, then said, "Why, those glasses look terribly familiar! This couldn't possibly be our ghostly friend, returned to life?"

"It is, indeed, Mr. Warly. And I thank you kindly for this stew you've made. I daresay your culinary abilities will go a long way towards making my life here more comfortable. Food always was my greatest trouble back when I was living here alone. Terribly digestive problems, you know."

Warly's eyes popped wide open, and he came over and sat across from her. He leaned forward on his knees, a look of greatest sympathy and concern on his face. "My dear lady, however did you fare in this land by yourself? I hope your trials were not too dreadful."

Ms. Wickerbottom looked quite gratified by Warly's concern, and she waved a hand airily. "Oh, I doubt that you'd want to hear all about my dreary plight…"

"But I would, I would!" He insisted. "However, if you would prefer that we save the tale for another night – when the company might do it better justice – I would be happy to devote myself in the meantime to fixing up some suitable lodgings for you? I'm afraid we haven't a spare tent, but you're quite welcome to use mine for the next few days. The weather is fine enough that I can just use one of our camping bags."

Now she looked downright mollified. "Oh, heavens, I couldn't possibly."

Warly shook his head almost sternly. "Madame, I would not be able to get a moment's rest without knowing that you were perfectly cared for first."

Wilson cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, ma'am. We'll make sure you are quite comfortable here until we can get you home. For now, is there anything we can get you? Anything at all?"

She considered this, then said, "A glass of water is all I desire just now. Though as for sleeping accommodations, I'm afraid I suffer rather badly from insomnia. If you would be so kind as to simply set one of these chairs up with some padding and fetch me a book, I'll be quite content."

Wilson went at once to fetch the water, Warly to get their fluffiest hound pelts and a clean blanket to put over them, and Allena to grab all of their books. It crossed her mind that she never had gotten the chance to teach Webber how to read.

When everything was settled Ms. Wickerbottom looked like a queen, all propped up in fine wolf pelts with a little reading table beside her and a tall glass of chilled water in her hand. She took a sip and said, "Ahh, perfect. Goodness, I've not been treated so well in a decade at least. Now, back to Mr. Higgsbury's invention…"

Wilson nodded. "The Gateway to our world will be complete in two days. After that, a few of us will have to depart to pick up an…unsavory package…"

"Maxwell," Ms. Wickerbottom snapped, and Wilson jumped a bit at her quick change in mood. "Yes, that foul little cretin. Such honeyed words he lured me here with – oh, he was just so charming…"

Her eyes rolled around as though chasing a distant memory. She sighed and blushed, fanning herself with one hand, then regained her irritable demeanor. "I recall your discussion, young man. Then you're still on track for it? After you have him back here, we'll be heading straight home?"

"Indeed, ma'am. At least, that's the plan."

"Splendid," she replied. "It will do me good to have my library back. And I do hope my kitty is faring alright without me."

They glanced at each other. Going by her outfit and general demeanor, Allena was willing to bet this woman was from an older era than her own. Her kitty probably wasn't faring very well at all.

Allena was about to speak up when Warly held up a hand to stop her. His eyes shone with a soft sadness. "Allena, I believe you had a few things you wanted to do before bed. And Wilson as well. Ms. Wickerbottom, might I share something with you? I'm afraid there may be some bad news regarding your kitty."

Allena, Wilson, and Wortox all got up to let Warly pass along the news of the temporal displacement. Allena got to work sweeping the ashes and tidying up, Wortox cleaned up his magic station, and Wilson finished off his wax mold. By the time they were all done, they came back over to see Ms. Wickerbottom's face had acquired a stony set to it.

She sighed as she saw them approach. "Well, at least I left behind relatively little. No family, thank goodness, and when you're as old as I am you're as prepared for your remaining friends to pass as they are for you to. I will miss my kitty, but I suppose I can always get another one."

Allena smiled hopefully. "That's the spirit. I know all the cat hubs in town. I'd be happy to find you just the right one. Do you like Maine Coons? They're very common in Foxcroft-Dover."

Ms. Wickerbottom perked up a bit. "I've always wanted a Maine Coon. Such a mellow breed, but they were always so _expensive_ where I was from. A librarian's salary isn't exactly glamorous."

With Ms. Wickerbottom settled and comforted, the rest of them got ready to settle down for the night. Allena spent a bit more time tidying up, then she took a short bird bath and dabbed healing salve on her stings.

By the time she crawled into the tent, Wilson was already in bed. He wasn't curled up sleeping, though, but instead was propped up against his pillows. This usually meant he was trying to stay awake until she got in.

She kicked off her shoes and cuddled up beside him. "Hey, Wilson. You awake?"

His eyes twitched open blearily. He yawned. "Ahh…yes. We've just gotten so little time to talk these last two days, we've been worked to the bone. I wanted to ask you…" he yawned again. "…how are you holding up?"

They both settled down, and he tried stroking his hands through her hair only to get them tangled. She hadn't had much time to brush her hair recently.

He took instead to lightly stroking her arm, and she shivered as she recalled her last meeting with Maxwell. He hadn't visited her since, thankfully.

"I'm fine," she said offhandedly. "You're the one who's been pushing himself to the limits every day. You and Winona both. I swear, Wilson, when we get back I am going to treat you to the longest back rub you have ever had. And a hot bath, a perfect dinner, a soft bed…"

He practically purred at that last. "That all sounds delightful – though it will be doubly so if I'll be sharing it all with you."

She laid her head on his chest, and now she smiled into it even as her face warmed. "I sure could do with a nice bath."

His hand found her hip and lightly squeezed. "You know, tired as I am I might still have been up for a bit of our normal banter before bed…" Then he sighed. "It's too bad you brought an insomniac old woman back with you. I get the distinct feeling that we won't be able to so much as flutter our eyelashes at each other until we're married, with her around."

Allena snorted with stifled laughter. "Yeah, because you flutter your eyelashes at me so often."

He craned his neck up and made a show of fluttering his eyelashes at her in the dim light of the campfire that shone through the opening in the tent. She once again had to stifle laughter. "Stop making me laugh, or she's going to think we're up to something in here!"

"Wouldn't want to give the lady a heart-attack, I suppose," Wilson chuckled. "I suppose we'll just have to save all of our tomfoolery for the wedding night."

She shifted up and kissed him on the lips, and his head tilted back automatically to take her in. She felt his bare chest rise beneath her, pushing her up slightly as he drew in a deep breath through his nose. She broke off and whispered, "Most of our tomfoolery, anyways."

He fell back with a pleased, silly smile on his face, letting the breath out in a light puff. "Most of it, then."

* * *

The best part of having Wickerbottom in their camp was that she kept the fires stocked all night so they could sleep the whole night through.

The worst part of having Wickerbottom in their camp was…

"Good heavens, young man! If you keep lifting with your back like that you're going to be as hobbled as I am by the time you're thirty! Lift with your knees!"

Wes – whom Allena was fairly certain was at least thirty already – gave her a patient smile and nodded, adjusting his posture, but he rolled his eyes a bit the moment he was facing away from her. He'd been carting in lumber for the last hour, and if it wasn't Wes's posture she was criticizing then is was either Allena's etiquette, Wolfgang's general ruggedness, or Wilson's hair. She didn't even bother commenting on Winona, which was just as well. Wickerbottom's criticism would probably have just bounced right off and hit someone else, anyways.

The worst part was that she was so earnest. She wasn't trying to be an obnoxious distraction…

Warly was, of course, beyond reproach. His posture, his courtesy, his attentiveness – and above, all, his food. Oh, yeah. Warly was Wickerbottom's favorite.

By midafternoon Wilson and Winona had finished smelting the last of the parts. Now they just needed to lay everything out, double check it all, and start reassembly.

Wes, whose workload had mellowed out a bit, asked Wolfgang for help smelting one final piece, though no one was allowed to see what it was besides Wolfgang. Whatever it was, Wolfgang was highly amused.

"Ya, ya, no doubt will be perfect present for her," he said, and Wes gestured to him to lower his voice. Winona had pretended not to overhear, but she'd shot Allena a covert raised eyebrow.

Allena had grinned and winked. Girl talk translation:

_Think it's for me?_

_Oh, yeah. 100%._

Winona had rolled her eyes good-naturedly and they'd both gotten back to work.

For the first time all week Allena was feeling more hopeful than scared. Wilson had said they'd be done with reassembly by that evening – midnight at the latest.

"So," Allena said as she righted her pack on her shoulder. The Thulecite parts within clanked and jingled with the shift. "What do you think about tomorrow?"

Winona knew what that meant. Tomorrow two of them would leave to go get Maxwell and Charlie. They couldn't take more – Maxwell had been very clear about that. The device would only take two of them. They still hadn't talked about who it would be, but Allena assumed Winona would definitely be volunteering. It was her sister, after all. Though Wilson and Wolfgang might also make a good team. Brute strength would probably be handy, and Wilson had been the one studying the spells in-depth. Wortox was magically inclined, so he would also make a good candidate.

But Winona said, "Gonna be exciting, I bet. It'll be you and Wilson going, right?"

Allena looked at her, startled. "Me and Wilson? What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're the one who knows where Charlie is, and who knows how to fight the Shadow, right? And Wilson's the one with all the magic know-how. Only makes sense."

Allena swallowed heavily. "I can just tell you guys where Charlie and Maxwell are. No need for me to go myself."

Winona glanced sideways at her. "Ah, scared to go back down there? No worries, that's understandable. Yeah, if you need to just make a map and send Wolfgang or Wortox down instead—"

Allena blushed. "No, it's not that I'm afraid! I mean, I am, but that's not it."

"Then what's the problem?"

They passed the lone Treeguard. The tiny sapling beside it had grown a few feet in the last couple of weeks alone, and now looked like a little bitty brother beside the elder pine. "It's just that I want Charlie to have the best possible chance to get out of there. I don't know if I can provide that."

Winona snorted. "Wortox said it: out of everyone here, you understand the Shadow's true nature better than anyone."

"Except Wortox."

At this, Winona frowned. "Yeah, you have a point there. I guess it might make more sense to send him down. You think he'll do it?"

"Sure, why wouldn't he? He could always Hop home if things got too rough for him."

Yeah, she hoped Wortox would be willing to go. He would really be the best fit for the job.

_Would he? Would he really?_

She shied away from her internal dialogue. She'd been telling the truth when she said it wasn't about whether she was afraid to go back down or not - it really _was_ just about who was most likely to suceed, but--

_...when I am done with you there will be nothing left for Maxwell but a jibbering mess..._

She swallowed heavily as they reached the base, mouth suddenly dry, and she was glad there was no more time for conversation. Work to be done.

As they walked in, Winona started ordering her about on where to place the pieces. There were dozens of parts, and all needed to be laid out in precisely the right order, out of the dust, and they had to triple check everything to make sure it was all there. They managed. Within two hour the parts covered the ground in a beautiful, shimmery orange tapestry of mechanisms.

Wilson came over shortly thereafter, blueprints in hand. "Alright," he said. "Are we ready to reassemble?"

Winona nodded. "I was thinking I could handle the energy converter. You want to take on the cyclical power storage unit?"

Wilson nodded. "Indeed. Has all the rewiring been finished?"

"Yup."

Allena asked, "Anything I can help with?"

Both of them looked up at her hopefully. "Roasted birchnuts?"

Right. In all the excitement of the previous night, she'd forgotten about those. "Yeah, sure thing. Be right back."

She started back towards the other base. Along the way she saw Wortox standing before the dormant Treeguard, warbling at it.

She came over, but stopped dead in her tracks as the Treeguard croaked and swayed. Before she could even ask what was happening, its trunk had split and it had awoken.

Allena's heart leaped into her throat at the sight, but the Treeguard dismissed saw her, dismissed her at once, and shifted its gaze to Wortox, who was still chattering at it.

It didn't seem to be aggressive. It was just standing there. She approached very cautiously and said, "Uh, Wortox? Everything alright with him?"

Wortox's ears twitched. "Yes. I've just been meaning to stop by for a chat. The loss of his Treeguard brothers was hard enough, but with the Vargwood burned down he has been rather morose as of late. _Oruk naas quihaar, saulla darihm?"_

The Treeguard groaned in response, and Wortox's ears went back. "Yes," he said sadly. "He is very lonely."

Allena winced. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'd invite him to come back with us when we leave, but I don't think he'd fit through the portal."

Wortox's ears twitched, and he said something to the Treeguard, which groaned loudly in response. Wortox nodded sympathetically. "He says he does not care for this world any longer. With Maxwell and the Shadow regularly destroying and recreating it, the Treeguards are not faring very well. This was once their world. Now it is the Shadow's, and they are cognizant of that fact."

Allena looked up at the Treeguard, and it struck her that it really did look rather sad. It stood alone in the middle of a field, only one small sapling for company, the charred remains of the other Treeguards all within sight.

Wortox said something else to it, and it began grumbling and rumbling loudly and continuously. Wortox seemed interested in whatever it was saying. _"Ha nuihil, wharohk pafta? Cuhlim?_ Allena, your world is a nice, sturdy place, yes?"

Allena nodded. "There's been a lot of environmental degradation over the last century, but things have gotten loads better over the last two decades. Why do you ask?"

Wortox looked back up at the Treeguard and said a few more things. The Treeguard responded, groaned loudly, and collapsed back into a normal tree. Conversation over.

Wortox nodded. "Quite a favor you've asked of me, friend. But I believe I can manage. Allena, if you require no more help, might I pester you for a day off? I need to gather some souls."

Allena considered. There really wasn't much more to do – the rest of them could handle it all. "That ought to be fine. We'll call you if we need you. Is there anything we can help with?"

"No, I will be fine. Thank you!"

He turned and pulled out a soul, but before he left Allena said, "Oh! We'll need to talk about the rescue mission tonight once the Gateway is complete. Will you be back in time for dinner?"

Wortox nodded. "This I can do. Call upon me when the meeting is to start. See you then!"

And he Hopped away.

Allena returned to the base, got a fire going for the snacks, and asked Ms. Wickerbottom, "Would you like some roasted Birchnuts? I'm taking some over to Wilson and Winona, but you're welcome to a handful."

Ms. Wickerbottom waved her hand dismissively. "I'm quite alright, Ms. Allena. Warly's last dish was absolutely perfect, and entirely filling. Though I do feel a bit bad about sitting around while you lot work yourselves to the bone. What can I help with?"

Allena also waved her hand dismissively. "It's alright, we already have the rest of the work divvied up. I suppose if you're really looking for something to do, we can always use more rope, but…"

Ms. Wickerbottom scowled. "Oh, honestly. I've never been the type to sit around and knit. Are there any trees that need chopping? Spiders that need slaying?"

Allena's eyebrows popped up. "Ah, we really don't want you overexerting yourself, ma'am! We can take care of everything."

She sniffed disdainfully. "I daresay you're underestimating me, young lady. Need I remind you that I survived here for quite some time on my own before finally biting the dust? And I'll have you know it was no paltry spider that did me in, nor a cruel winter storm. Maxwell had to send a giant carnivorous deer-beast to take me down – the epitome of Laurasiatheria!"

Allena's eyes widened and her stomach dropped. "You…you were killed by the Deerclops?"

Ms. Wickerbottom shifted her glasses on her nose and said, "Deerclops? Well, I suppose that's also an apt name for the beast. Yes, indeed, my dear. I was killed by the 'Deerclops'. Came right out of nowhere one day while I was butchering a Bos Taurus I'd slain with a few well-placed traps and some gunpowder. Simply appeared in a flash of black lightning right behind me. The last thing I remember was commenting on what a sniveling coward Maxwell was, then the hoof came down…"

She frowned, then shook her head. "Ah, but I suppose there are worse ways to go. And frankly I'm flattered that he decided such a colossus was necessary to do me in! So thank you kindly for your concern, my dear, but I'm quite capable of pulling my weight around here."

Allena felt a bit sick. She thought she'd gotten over her Deerclops-guilt, but she'd also thought that Winona had suffered the worst of it having her base destroyed.

Ms. Wickerbottom had been _killed._

The librarian must have noticed the expression on Allena's face, because her gaze softened a bit. "Something wrong, Ms. Jones? You look a bit peaked."

Allena looked down, then said, "I'm sorry. I'm part of the reason Maxwell made the Deerclops. He got the idea chatting with me. First he sent the Varg after everyone…"

"Oh, you don't mean that great brute of a dog? Hah! Yes, he sent that after me as well, but it was an easy enough beast to evade. But my dear, if you're thinking of blaming yourself for the creation of the Deerclops, I'm afraid I'll have to stop you right there. The man had been hinting at making something to deal with me for months before it came. If your conversation played into that, it played only a single part in a greater whole. Frankly, I got the sense that he'd had it on his mind for a while before setting it loose."

Allena's eyes widened. "Really? You don't think it was just me that made him do that?"

She shook her head. "Not at all, my dear. Say, do you have any idea what happened to the beast? My ghostly form didn't manifest for the first time until early spring. I've no idea where that creature ended up."

Allena's mouth twitched up in a smile. "Oh boy, are you in for a story. Let me tell you about it while the birchnuts roast."

* * *

That night they all sat around the fire for a small feast. Warly had made ample amounts of everyone's favorite food, including Allena's beefalo stew and some fish sticks with lemon juice for Ms. Wickerbottom, who proclaimed upon looking at the dish that she was closer to heaven than she'd ever been while dead.

Wortox had spent the whole day gathering souls and was consequently stuffed. He also had a large bag of mysterious contents in addition to his normal Krampus sack, though he wasn't volunteering any information about it. Allena was curious about what he was up to, but they had bigger fish to fry.

"So," Wilson said heavily. "The Gateway is finished, and tomorrow we leave to rescue Maxwell and Charlie."

There was a thrill of excitement within the group. "Gateway is really finished?" Wolfgang asked. "Is ready for activating?"

Winona nodded. "Yup. And with all those gems, we don't even need to wait for a lightning strike to power it. All we've gotta do is flip the switch, and we're gonzo. I mean, it'll take a little time to warm up, but…"

Wes was beaming proudly at her, but if Winona noticed she didn't comment. "Anyways," she went on. "Now all we've gotta do is figure out who's going to rescue my sister."

"And Maxwell!" Webber added. "Have to rescue bad man, otherwise Allena can't go home."

Wilson nodded agreement. "Have to rescue bad man. Now, I've been studying the spells and rituals we will need to perform in order to extract Maxwell and rebind Charlie's soul to her body, so I'll of course be going. We need only figure out who else is to come along. Wortox, I believe that since you know so much about the magics we will be using—"

He stopped abruptly as Wortox shook his head rapidly, like a dog clearing water from its ears. "I cannot, I cannot," he said. "Too great of a danger it would be, to place me back in the Shadow's hands. If I were to be captured again, it would spell great trouble for all of you, metasoul or no. At any rate, I have another task which needs doing."

"Another task?" Ms. Wickerbottom asked curiously. "What sort of quest might you be on, dear imp?"

Wortox's nose twitched. "The Treeguards have asked for my aid, and as a child of the forest I cannot in all conscience deny them. I will be back for the opening of the portal, but until then there is much I must do. Forgive me."

Wilson's eye twitched, but he nodded slowly. "Very well. If you cannot come along, perhaps Wolfgang—"

Winona shook her head. "Hey, no offence, brainiac, but I think the next best choice is clear. If we want to rescue my sister, the person to send is the one who actually _knows where my sister is."_

Wilson's stare hardened. "No. Allena will remain up here. I will not have her delivered right into the Shadow's power again."

Allena placed her hand on his. She'd been thinking about it all day, and it was pretty obvious to her what the right choice was. She'd hoped Wortox would step up to the plate, but if he was unable...

She didn't want to go back down there. God, she didn't. 

But she was their best chance.

"Wilson," she said while lifting the necklace from her shirt. "I'm already there." Though it was Maxwell's finger on the trigger, the power belonged to the Shadow. Power enough to tear her heart to pieces right in her chest. 

He was sitting right beside her, as usual, and he turned to look at her with a heavily furrowed brow. "My love—"

She ran him over. "No. It's like Winona said: I'm the best person for the job. Besides, if we fail, I'll be right back down there anyways. Maxwell isn't going to let me escape. Honestly, the best way to make sure he doesn't pull the trigger early would be if I'm as far away from the Gateway as possible. I'll come with you."

Wilson did not get a chance to reply before Wortox said, "Her words ring true. At any rate, knowledge is power in this world, and she knows the Shadow as well as anyone. Maybe better. Allena ought to be the one to go."

Warly leaned forward. "If I may ask…Allena, are you sure you wish to do this? Your previous visits have been quite traumatizing, if I am not mistaken. Are you sure you can handle a third trip?"

Allena nodded without hesitation. If she let herself hesitate, then she would lose her resolve. "Yes, absolutely. Anyways, this is my bargain. I'll be the one to pay it out."

Wilson didn't look happy about it, but her words were all that was needed for consensus. Everyone nodded. It would be Wilson and Allena.

"Alright," Winona said. "Now all we've gotta do is figure out how we're gonna prepare for the trip home. Wilson, you said we ought to be able to whip up a weapon with that Deerclops eye and the Guardian Horn, right?"

Wilson nodded. Wortox had brought the horn back today, and it stood propped against the outer wall of the base beside the Deerclops eye. When Wortox had first shown up with it Allena and Wilson had heard an excited squealing coming from the back of the base. They'd gone over expecting to see Webber, but instead it had been Wolfgang gushing over the magnificent trophy. It had been pretty funny, to say the least.

"I'll leave you with my schematics. Using those reagents and a fair amount of Thulecite, you ought to be able to fix up a Houndius Shootius in the time we're gone."

Winona looked pleased with the prospect. WX-78 said, "I WILL ASSIST IN THIS ENDEAVOR. NO DOUBT YOU WILL REQUIRE MY MECHANICAL EXPERTISE, AS WELL AS MY STRENGTH."

"Wolfgang will also help. Eye is heavy. Horn is heavy. With me and little tinman working together, ought to be very easy."

"Good," Wilson said. "If you have the time, it would also be ideal to stock up on more darts, and make sure that everyone possible has armor and weapons. As Allena mentioned, there's no telling what Maxwell might have planned for us."

"Ahem," Ms. Wickerbottom politely interjected. "I believe master Webber has something he'd like to address. Go ahead young man."

Allena hadn't noticed, but apparently Webber had been trying to raise his hand to talk. He was sitting next to Ms. Wickerbottom, whom he'd taken a liking to at once due to the fact that she 'reminded him of gramma'.

"Er, does you need Webber very badly? Because, if it is not too much trouble…"

Allena thought she knew what he wanted. "Do you want to go visit mama long-legs, Webber?"

He nodded emphatically. Of course – he'd been with them at camp for so long, he must have been missing his spider family.

"We would like to go back and say goodbye to spider-mama and all of our spider friends. And also to let little spiders go live there. They cannot come home with us, after all."

Wilson looked impressed with Webber. He and Allena had been worried that he would insist upon bringing his new pets back with them, but it looked like he was willing to let them go.

Wilson said, "I think that would be a wonderful idea, Webber. Do you need anyone to go with you?"

Webber shook his head. "No, we can go alone. Leave tomorrow morning. Be back the day after."

"In the meantime, I will remain on food duty," Warly said. "And I daresay it may be a good idea to get emergency packs ready, in case we do not end up where we intend to. Oui?"

"Oui," Wilson said. "Everyone, make sure you are ready to go at a moment's notice. There is no telling how things will go once we free Maxwell and Charlie, so be sure to have everything packed and settled by the Gateway by tomorrow night at the latest. Agreed?"

"Agreed," they all replied.

The plans were set.


	60. Check

Their departure had gone off without much fanfare. They'd had a small breakfast and some tea, and Warly had packed them a plethora of good foods. They weren't going for an extended trip, so he'd made them a few tastier, more perishable dishes for dinner that night and breakfast tomorrow, and another couple of days of jerky rations. If all went well, they'd be at Maxwell's portal by sunset the second day.

The Magiluminescences were all in Allena's side pouch, and the Telelocator Staff was strapped to Wilson's back. Everything else, including the focuses for the staff and the gems needed to power it, was in Wortox's Krampus sack, which he'd lent them as part of their plan. They were following Warly's map, and to Allena's delight she saw that it would take them by the pig village. Wilson agreed that if they made good time, they would drop by and see the pig king. He'd even brought a couple of trinkets for the pig king – their pack of playing cards, which had several missing and were therefore of little use to them as a game, but which would still be a great novelty for the pigs; and a large desiccated tentacle tip.

Allena had expected to have awful jitters the whole way, but she was surprised to find herself relaxed. Happy, even. The hot summer air had been blessed with an unusually cool breeze, their canteens were full of ice-cold tea, and the road they were on was absurdly beautiful.

They reached a birch forest by noon, and as they walked through the white-barked glade Allena couldn't help but admire the view. Golden sunlight slanted down through the foliage, berry bushes ripe with heavy red fruits dotted the area, and crimson birds sang raucously in the otherwise still wood.

Finally, Wilson broke the silence. "What do you think of child names?"

"Huh?" Allena asked, drawn out of her reverie. "Child names?"

"Yes. If we had a boy, what would you want to name him?"

Her lips turned up in a smile. Wilson was thinking about baby names. "I'm not sure. I've never given it a lot of though. I've always loved the name Avriel, though."

"Avriel?" Wilson mused. "I've never heard of it before."

"It's not all that common, but I don't mind uncommon names. There were four Michaels in one of my history classes one time back in high school. It was always so confusing."

Wilson chuckled. "Yes, I can see that. There were half a dozen Wilsons at my grammar school growing up, and as a result people took to calling my Percival to save confusion."

"I'm so sorry."

He laughed. "I think Avriel is a lovely name. My grandfather's name was August, and I've always been partial to that. August Lawrence Higgsbury."

"August? That's a beautiful name. I think I'm just as partial to that as Avriel."

Wilson hummed. "August or Avriel, Avriel or August? Which do you think?"

"Well, that seems pretty obvious," she replied. "We'll just have to have two."

Wilson grinned. "Two sons? What chaos! Just how many children will you want from me, my love?"

Allena said, "Now, that I _have_ thought about. Do you think you could manage four?"

"Four?!" Wilson exclaimed. He didn't sound exactly upset, though.

Allena raised her hands defensively. "Hey, don't look at me. Blame my mom. She was always telling my sister and I that we needed to have at least a dozen between us. She really wanted grandkids. I think four is quite moderate."

Wilson's ensuing laughter was enough to startle the birds from the trees. "Reminds me of my own mother. 'Wilson Percival Higgsbury, when are you going to find yourself a woman and start giving me grandchildren? I've already gotten five from your brother! You need to catch up!'"

Allena perked up at this. "Wait, you have...had...a brother? How have you never mentioned this?"

He rubbed the back of his head. "Half-brother, actually. My mother's first husband passed away abruptly – got drunk and wandered in front of a train, she told me – and my mother ended up remarrying. She'd had one son from the first husband, and I'm the product of the second marriage."

"Ahh," Allena said. "Did you and your brother get along?"

"Oh, as well as any two brothers can. He would often rat me out for misbehaving, even well beyond childhood, but I frustrated him to no end as well. I'd always tell mother and father on him anytime he found himself a new girlfriend. They were never mad, of course, but _oh_ how they embarrassed him." He said this with a tone of infinite delight. "Always the same thing. 'Your brother has a new girlfriend? He must bring her home! We'll plan a special dinner for the two of them!' Then the pictures would come out, and all the funny stories…"

Something about the summer air had gotten Wilson talking, and he spent the next few hours regaling her with tales from his youth, and by the end of it all Allena was nearly in tears laughing.

"So I hand him the certificate and say, 'Ms. Brooks asked you to sign this, sir.' And he looks down at it, signs it, and says, 'Congratulations, Mr. Higgsbury.' 'For what?' I ask. 'Well, isn't this your award?' he says. And I look down at it and my eyes just about pop! I'd been carrying this piece of paper all around campus for an hour looking for my college dean, and I hadn't even noticed it had my name on it in big gold print!"

Allena wiped her eyes and hiccupped. "That's pretty good. Say, think we should check the map?"

"Yes, let's," he said and pulled the scroll out.

They'd left the birchwood a while back and were now on an open plain. Another birchwood stood ahead of them, and Wilson nodded. "Yes, I thought so. That forest there is the Pigwood. We ought to be there well before dinner."

"So we'll have time to see the pigs?" She asked excitedly.

He rolled up the map. "An abundance of time, I think. Not that we'll want to linger long. Just drop by, see the king, and depart. You don't want to camp in or near a pig village."

"Why?" She asked.

"Oh, trust me," Wilson said ominously. "You'll see."

True to his word, they neared the village within a couple of hours. Allena knew they were close for obvious reasons. She could also see at once why Wilson objected to the place.

"Is it the smell?" she asked. "Because this really isn't that bad. Mornings in Foxcroft-Dover smell worse than this from all the farms right outside the town limits. Gotta love the smell of cow-patties in the morning."

Wilson shook his head. "You haven't smelled the half of it, love. Come. Let us meet the pigs."

They emerged from the forest into a huge clearing not ten minutes later, and Allena gasped.

Right in front of her, six feet tall and bright pink, was a pig.

It had little sprouts of sparse hair poking out of its head, back, and elbows, but other than that it was shiny and bald. It wore a dried grass skirt and nothing else. It was pretty burly, with thick meaty arms and a hunched back, but its legs were relatively small and stumpy. It had a long pink snout, small white eyes, and a big gaping mouth with round little teeth.

It was precisely halfway between hideous and adorable.

They'd taken it unawares. Upon seeing her its snout twitched a few times, then it squealed loudly, "My space! That MY SPACE!"

Allena jumped back, but Wilson calmly pulled a small chunk of meat out of his bags without the least bit of worry. He stepped forward, and the pig looked ready to retreat, but then its nose twitched a few more times and its eye locked onto the meat. "What you got?"

"Got food, my dear fellow," Wilson said jovially, and the pig's eyes widened. It snatched the meat out of Wilson's hand and stuffed it in its face. Then it licked its cloven hoof-fingers clean and smiled widely at Wilson.

"You is good," it said, and stood there staring at him vacantly.

Wilson chuckled. "And now it will follow me around for the next half an hour, hoping for more food, preventing the other pigs from paying us any heed. Come. Let us see the pig king."

"Pig king?" The pig said. "See pig king! Have gifts?"

Wilson pulled out the desiccated tentacle, and the pig gasped. "Oooh. Pretty gift for king. Come! Let us see king!"

Allena followed Wilson though the village. It looked just like it did on his map. Tall, narrow houses of simple wooden planks stood scattered here and there. In the spaces between, tufts of grass or flowers were being grown and tended. As she watched, a pig carrying a big bucket of water went over to a bunch of tall grass and dumped it carelessly on top. Then it turned and left, clearly intent on getting more water.

"We'll fill up our canteens before we leave," Wilson said. "Though we'll want to go a fair ways upstream of the village to do so. The pigs periodically dump their…waste…in the river."

As they went further into the village, the stink got worse. It was starting to give Allena a mild headache.

At last they reached the pig king. When they did, Allena gaped.

It was massive. It was by far the fattest thing she'd ever seen in her life. It was surrounded by four tall black obelisks and the tips of four more, which just poked out of the ground. The king was dirty-pink, covered in dust and blotches of mud, and had a tall grass crown with what looked to be beefalo horns jutting from either side. Golden bangles hung from the horns, though it had no other adornments. Its grass skirt barely reached past its waist, but even without the skirt the pig king likely would have been fine. Anything worth hiding was probably tucked away under massive rolls of fat.

It was leaning back on a giant pile of grass, sweating profusely, and Allena could see why Wilson wanted to get away. The reek was _stupendous._

Wilson stepped forward, and the pig king's eyes slid over to peer down at him. There was no recognition or reaction.

Wilson smiled tensely at the thing, but she could see his nostrils had contracted a bit. He, like her, was trying to breathe through his mouth only. "Good day, your highness. Remember me?"

The pig king did not respond, just stared at him dully and snorted once. Then Wilson held up the tentacle, and the pig king's eyebrows went up.

Wilson stepped forward, bowed, and said, "A gift for the king of pigs." Then he threw the tentacle up so it landed on the pig king's belly, just below its five chins.

The pig king snorted again, looked down, reached up with his fat, stubby little arms to inspect the item, and upon examining it…

Allena actually had to step back. A wave of stench rolled over her as the pig king squealed in delight and waved his arms in the air. Then he reached into some of his fat rolls, and the stench wafted out stronger than ever.

The pig king began plucking chunks of gold out of its folds, and just as Wilson had once described to her, and showered the pair with them. Allena almost gagged, but she held it in. How could Wilson stand this?

The answer was clear – not for very long. He bowed, thanked the pig king profusely, picked up the nuggets, and presented the second gift. The deck of cards. Again, the pig king squealed and showered them with even more gold, and once Wilson had tucked all of these nuggets away he bowed once more and turned to go.

As they walked away, Allena noticed dully that her head was absolutely pounding now, and a slight ringing had picked up in her ears. She stumbled to a halt, and Wilson turned back towards her. "Allena? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her temples. She looked back at the pig king, and her eyes were drawn oddly to the obelisks. "I'm fine, I just…"

Then, the same thing that happened in the caves happened again.

The world went grey. She could see distant red veins creeping rapidly towards her, crawling over pig houses and through flower gardens, and the flowers looked vicious. The obelisks had also changed. The four that had been raised around the pig king were now lowered, just tips protruding from the ground, and the four that had been buried were now raised. The ringing was worse, and she could hear a thousand voices whispering to her from her shadow—

She was dimly aware of someone pulling her away, and her head lolled around towards Wilson. A short ways past him, crawling steadily towards them, were shadow-creatures.

She watched them approach as Wilson dragged her away. She needed to draw her sword, but…

She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes as the crawling horrors advanced. She shut their echoing chitters out and reached for something else.

_…on, the river isn't far. Let's get you some water, and…_

"…maybe you'll feel better after a short rest. You've been on your feet all day…"

Wilson. She could hear him again, and before opening her eyes she willed herself to focus only on him.

She blinked her eyes open, and for a moment everything overlapped. The obelisks, thirty feet away now, were all both raised and lowered. The veins of light crept through lovely, brightly colored flower beds, and Wilson…

Red. Grey. Black. White.

Red. Red. The color of Wilson's vest.

She took a deep breath and almost retched. The smell really was awful.

The looked back to see only the impression of the crawling horrors. They were no longer advancing towards her, but were now stationary. Standing. Waiting.

Watching.

Wilson dragged her out of the village and to the river, where she was able to sit down and breathe deeply. Their piggy friend had followed them out, and was looking at her with what she could have sworn was concern.

She gazed up at the pig-man dazedly, and it oinked, "New friend okay? Look dizzy."

Allena gave it a thumbs up. "M'okay."

Then Wilson dumped a whole bottle of water over her head, and she gasped. It was cold.

She shook it off, and Wilson said, "Allena, are you alright? Please, talk to me."

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she said. This time her voice was clearer. "I was just…remember what happened in the cave? When we met the bunnymen?"

Wilson's expression became uneasy. "The shadows? Oh, dear…" then his expression lit with alarm. "Are they nearby? Do you need your sword?"

"No," she said quickly. "I'm okay. They're gone. I was able to pull myself out of it that time. I think I'm okay now. It was just something about those obelisks…"

Wilson looked up at the sky and frowned, but then his face went void of emotion. He slung his pack off and said, "Well, at least that's over. Let us rest awhile, and—"

She stood up abruptly. "No way. We need to keep moving. Come on."

Wilson protested. "Ah, Allena, are you sure? Just a minute ago you could hardly walk."

She stretched, pulled out the last of her tea, and finished it in a few swigs. She wiped her mouth and said, "I'm fine. Really, I am. Besides, we've wasted enough time here. Let's get going."

"We go, we go!" The pig said excitedly. "Where we go?"

Wilson still looked doubtful, so Allena stopped and smiled at him. "Really, it's fine. Let's just give the pig village a wide berth, okay? I think it was the smell that did me in."

At last he relented. "Alright, love, but if you collapse again, I'm setting up camp for the evening."

"Duly noted."

* * *

They walked until sundown. Because of the hang-up in the pig village, Allena insisted they keep walking awhile longer, so they pulled out their lanterns and kept on into the night.

Her earlier fit had left her a bit shaken, but Wilson's presence got her back to normal in no time. He was still worried about her, though, so in order to calm him in the growing dark she started telling him horrible puns.

"What's the difference between a dirty bus station and a lobster with breast implants?"

"Come again?"

"One is a crusty bus station, the other is a busty crustacean!"

He realized what she was up to. "Oh, good Lord."

"What do you call a nun on the run?"

A pause. Then, "…I don't know…"

"A roamin' Catholic!" She replied.

Wilson sighed. "Lovely. Any more?"

"Oh," she said, remembering her last visit to the Epilogue. "Why can't the bicycle stand up by itself?"

"Why not…?"

"Because it's two-tired!"

She started laughing hysterically at her own jokes, and Wilson just groaned. "Do you have anything a bit more…intellectually stimulating?"

She grinned. "What did the photon say when the bellhop offered to carry his luggage?"

Wilson frowned. "What is a photon?"

Now it was her turn to groan. "Aw, man. My best science joke, and it's too modern for you."

Wilson shrugged. "Ah, well. Give me a few months in the modern world then get back to me."

They kept going for a couple more hours. Their pig friend had left off around sunset, returning to the village in a prissy, frightened huff, so they were alone. They came across a small clearing with a few berry bushes and decided to set up camp there.

Wilson got a fire going and Allena set up their blankets. It was now so hot at night that they didn't need sleeping bags or a tent. Indeed, they didn't even want to sleep too close to the fire. It really got toasty.

Allena pulled out their dinner – vegetable stew with a side of battered, fried frog legs – and put them over the fire to heat. "And berries for dessert," Allena said as they pulled the warmed food off the fire and started in on the meal.

Wilson licked his lips at the thought. "I adore Warly's creations, but how long has it been since I've just enjoyed plain berries right off the bush?"

Allena finished slurping her soup, rinsed the bowl out with a bit of water, and walked around to grab some berries. She brought them back and offered some to Wilson.

He popped a few in his mouth with a sound of satisfaction. "There really are delightful."

"Yeah," Allena replied. "I'm glad we—"

She stopped. A shiver of power had shot through her chest, and a sudden wave of nausea hit her. She sat down, hard, clutching her shirt collar.

Pain. There was a horrible pain in her chest, and after a moment she noticed a similar pain in her left arm. Her head went fuzzy. What was going on?

She gasped and fell backwards. Wilson was at her side in an instant. "Allena? Allena, what's wrong?"

She was grabbing desperately at her collar, but she felt like her throat was paralyzed, like she couldn't breathe. Then her eyes widened, and, with trembling hands, she tugged out the violet necklace that had been resting against her sternum.

It was glowing, pulsing with power. That's what it was. Maxwell was using the necklace. But why? It wasn't time yet, was it? Had she miscounted the days…?

She felt its power release, briefly, then surge again. Her heart was seizing, stuttering, and she was going to pass out if this kept up for long.

_No, no, no, not yet, no—_

Then conscious thought was blasted from her mind as two overlapping voices, both dripping with rage and venom, roared through her head.

_TOMORROW AT SUNDOWN._

And the power stopped.

She went limp and began gasping for air. Wilson's eyes were wide and wild. He'd been taking her pulse at her wrist, and now he put his fingers to her jugular. "Allena! Are you okay? Please, talk to me!"

"I'm…fine…"

He helped her into a sitting position, but she slumped right back against him. Everything felt weak. Her head was throbbing. Her stomach was churning.

"What happened?" He asked quietly.

She regained her breath. After a quiet minute she said, "Maxwell. The Shadow. It was…a warning. We have until…tomorrow at sundown."

Wilson's face was chalk-white. His eyes locked with hers, and he nodded slowly. "Tomorrow at sundown. Well, I suppose we'll want to get walking early tomorrow."

Her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed her forehead into his shoulder. She was tired.

He took care of everything. He scooped her up, laid her on the blanket, and quickly tidied up their dishes and supplies. Then he stocked up the fire, got her a drink of water, and settled in next to her.

Her chest hurt badly. Her headache was already receding, but she still felt nauseous and afraid. Maxwell had only used a bit of the power of the necklace, and just the thought of missing the deadline tomorrow made her want to throw up.

Wilson pulled their thin blanket over them, wrapped his arms around her tightly, and started whispering to her. "It's alright. You've nothing to fear. Everything will be fine, nothing will happen to you…"

As she drifted off to the glow of the fire and the warmth of Wilson's arms and words, she couldn't help but wonder exactly which of them he was trying to convince.

* * *

Maxwell sat on his throne. The Shadow's voice buzzed angrily on the edge of his consciousness, but Maxwell was doing his best to ignore it. It had released him to deal with other business right after they'd delivered their message to the girl, and now it was trying to crowd back into his mind. He had no intention of letting it. Still, it tried.

_…off in the middle of NOWHERE with the wretched scientist, miles from her other companions! You cannot expect me to believe that she still intends to…_

He knew it was only a matter of time before the punishments set in. The Shadow had been suspicious for the last week, but Maxwell was quite proud of himself. He'd done wonders convincing it of their charade. To his knowledge, it still didn't have the slightest clue about their true intentions.

He'd been harboring deep worry about the abilities of his new allies, especially of their ability to complete his portal to the Epilogue. No one else ever had, after all. He hadn't been able to check in on the pieces of his device, not without the Shadow seeing, and if the Shadow had seen it would have guessed what they were up to. But after that meeting, he at least knew. Wilson and Allena were nearing his assembly station. They'd done it. Soon, they would be in the Epilogue.

Now all he had to do was hold out until—

His back arched in agony as violent energy ripped through his being. During that infinitesimal lapse in concentration, the Shadow surged into his mind.

It wasn't often the Shadow used such underhanded tactics, but Maxwell put himself together in a nanosecond. He shut down everything he'd been thinking over, and said suavely, "Ah, pardon me. Did you want to talk about something?"

_YOU KNOW FULL WELL WHAT I WANT TO TALK ABOUT, WORM. THE GIRL HAS FAILED IN HER OBLIGATIONS. KILL HER NOW!_

Maxwell shook his head and tsk'd. "Now? So impatient. What's one more day before eternity? After all, that's what you'll have to spend with her once she's yours. Eternity."

_I CAN HEAR THE MOCKERY IN YOUR TONE, WORM. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?_

The Shadow needled straight into his mind, but just as it was nearing the core of his thoughts Maxwell slipped them easily somewhere else. He'd been building and honing his mental defenses for years. The Shadow would not breach his thoughts that easily.

_GAH! WHAT IS DOWN THERE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, MAXWELL?_

The Shadow pursued the truth it sought relentlessly, but to no avail. Maxwell just sat there humming 'I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts' as he slipped and slid his thoughts and memories around. Jumble, forget, recall, mislead. Misdirection. Always off the mark.

It seemed that the Shadow was just now realizing exactly how well-fortified its puppet was, and it was not happy. It sent another surge of dark power through him, causing him to gasp, but Maxwell was prepared this time. If one positive thing had come from the punishment that had ensued after he'd thrown Wagstaff out of the Constant, it had been this. Maxwell could function with full mental clarity even under the harshest of punishments, provided he was prepared for it.

He'd been preparing all month.

The Shadow slithered and struck again and again, trying to penetrate deeper into Maxwell's mind. Just when it thought it had something, Maxwell tossed another misconception in its way and it had to start all over again.

Finally, it stopped.

 _Maxwell,_ it said.

"Yes?" He replied politely. His fingers were laced in his lap.

_You seem to have gotten it into your head that you have something worth hiding in there. That is a lie. Nothing you have done, nothing you can do, will ever make a difference. I thought I had taught you this by now._

Maxwell began lightly tapping his fingers on his lap. "Hmm. Well, you know, I've always valued my secrets. Perhaps the value of having them outweighs their actual contents?"

The Shadow considered this, then growled low and deep.

_No. I don't think so. But then, I don't really care._

Going by the light rivulets of steam still seeping out of his clothing and the pain coursing through his every bone and muscle, Maxwell sincerely doubted that.

_All that matters is that, at the end of this, I will have you and everything you love and value in the whole of Creation at my feet. And when this is all over, I will use them to **break you.**_

The Shadow paused, and then it flashed an image into his mind; an image terrible enough to make even Maxwell flinch.

_I will tear you apart in spirit as thoroughly as I will tear her apart in flesh._

Another image. This one was worse. _Much_ worse. Maxwell winced, hard.

_I will reduce you to a mindless, soulless puppet, just like Charlie, full of nothing but rage, pain, terror, and bitterness._

Another image. Maxwell felt his eyes watering.

_Enjoy your game, King of Shadows. Play it well, but always remember:_

_Even a King is bound to the board._

And without further ado, the Shadow departed.

Maxwell slumped forward in his throne. His mind was tired, but stable.

The Shadow was as mad at him as it had ever been, and Maxwell knew why. It had sensed something in him that it had long ago assumed snuffed out. Maxwell had as well, to be fair. But now as he turned inward, forcing himself to skip over the images that lingered on the outer bounds of his consciousness, he recognized what it was that had the Shadow furious enough that it was ready to consign its favorite plaything to the scrapheap.

It was hope.

In the darkness, Maxwell smiled.


	61. Back to the Madhouse

Wilson had woken Allena up well before dawn. She'd been tired and sore from the previous night's ordeal, but ready to go. They'd doused the fire, lit their lanterns, and taken off into the pre-dawn darkness.

They walked in silence until dawn. As the sun broke over the horizon, Wilson asked Allena how she was doing.

"Fine," she said. They kept walking.

The sun above their heads ticked down the minutes, a single, massive grain of sand in a cosmic hourglass. Allena wasn't worried, though. Not about the time. They had plenty to spare.

They passed a few novelties; a beefalo herd, a killer bee field, and a desert with a handful of grazing volt goats. Recalling their last encounter with those critters made her smile. Wes and Winona didn't do much hand-holding, but she got the sense that they'd make a great couple. And it was good to know they'd be getting out no matter what happened. The portal was ready to go.

That was her biggest relief, that even if she and Wilson didn't make it back, the others would still be okay. Warly, Webber, Wolfgang, Wickerbottom, Wortox – even WX-78. She'd grown pretty fond of their android pal.

They paused only briefly for lunch, and to strike up a nitre fire to keep cool. They quickly discussed the plan. They'd be using Wortox's Krampus sack, the Magiluminescences, and their staff. All they had to do was get Charlie's soul fragment out of the mansion and to Maxwell, free Maxwell, draw evil-Charlie there, perform the ritual, and they were good. Maxwell might end up having to cast the Shadow out of himself, but she was sure he could do that if need be.

Freeing Maxwell would be easy. Every time her thoughts tried to linger on how utterly impossible the rest of the tasks were, she redirected them somewhere else. When she couldn't keep her mind off it, she sang quietly under her breath.

They came in sight of the assembly station maybe an hour before sunset. Before them, a barren chessboard of massive proportions glinted in the sinking sun, and a handful of growths – clumsily made trees of marble – sprouted out of the smooth, black and white terrain.

They made their way over and paused before stepping onto the platform. Wolfgang and Warly had described the trap layout they'd used to keep the portal safe, and sure enough they saw small, flat, dark-painted traps lying scattered across the board, all on black squares. Someone who hadn't been expecting them may easily have triggered them in their curiosity for what stood in the middle.

It was difficult to define from farther away, but once she and Wilson had cleared the board of traps and made their way over…it was still a bit difficult to define.

It was a wooden, hexagonal platform inscribed with glowing crimson runes. A pair of mechanical arms extended out of a pair of wooden box things on either side, and connected to a ring of thick golden plates. In the ring was an unremarkable chunk of beaten metal.

"It looks like a potato," she said as they examined the thing which was supposed to bring them to the Epilogue. "But this has to be the teleporter, right?"

Wilson nodded. "Certainly. I can feel a bit of power about it, can't you?"

She nodded. She could. "Alright. Let's activate this…teleportato."

Wilson blinked. "Teleportato?"

"Teleportato," she repeated firmly. She'd chosen the name and she was sticking with it.

Wilson stared at it a moment longer, then said, "Very well. Teleportato."

They pulled out their head-lamps and travel lanterns, as well as their torches, and they had a long drink of water and a small snack before they went down. They'd be doing a lot of running down there, and probably a fair bit of fighting. Wilson put on his Thulecite crown. Allena equipped one Magiluminescence and handed another to Wilson, leaving two in her pouch.

They stood before the device together. They weren't sure how to turn it on, so Wilson tried speaking to it.

"Ahem," he said. "Maxwell! Your device is assembled! Take us to the Epilogue!"

The device didn't react. Wilson frowned. "Maybe we need to focus our minds and energies onto it." He closed his eyes, put his fingers to his head, and scrunched up his face in concentration.

Allena watched him try this for a few moments, then she walked forward and slammed her fist against the top of the device like her grandmother always did when she was trying to get the T.V. to work.

It clunked, rattled, and the two arms of the device collapsed, drawing the ring down to the platform. The metallic potato in the middle, however, did not sink. Instead, it floated up a foot or two and began to unfurl into something.

Wilson's eyes popped open. "It worked!" He said excitedly. Allena decided not to say anything.

His smile dropped away as they saw what the potato unfurled into. It was…

"Maxwell's big, dumb, ugly, stupid face," Wilson snarled as the device, sure enough, took on the familiar visage.

Its blank white eyes stared vacantly forward, and Allena took Wilson's hand. He gripped hers back, firmly, and Allena said, "Take us to the Epilogue."

The metal Maxwell grinned widely as a rush of cold power washed over them. Shadows began seeping out of center of the hexagonal platform, rushing towards them, and in a moment the little blob of darkness had flowed out into a circle that was just barely big enough to surround the both of them, and would not have been able to encompass a third person. Then, out of the thin ring shot two black hands.

Wilson wrapped his arms firmly around Allena, and she couldn't help but cling to him and close her eyes as the shadowy hands grabbed at them. They tried tugging the two of them apart, but the two were holding on too tightly. Instead they were yanked together into the abyss.

They fell. Allena blinked her eyes open to see swirling darkness and whiteness out in the surrounding space, but this was disorienting. It was just like the first time she came to the Constant. She buried her face in Wilson's chest and waited for the trip to be over.

A few moments later, it was.

* * *

Wilson kept his feet this time, but just barely, and Allena nearly collapsed. He kept her upright for the second time in as many days as she got her balance back.

Wilson looked around and shivered. It was precisely as Allena had described – a realm of infinite darkness. They were standing on a black and white marble path lined with smooth grey flooring, and tall Greek pillars stood dormant and lightless around them.

Allena shone her light around and nodded. "This is it. In fact, I'm pretty sure this is where I started the first time I came here."

"So which way?" He asked her.

She turned at once to the direction they'd spawned in facing and said, "That way."

Good enough for him. This was Allena's show now. He'd followed her quite literally to the ends of the earth already – he would gladly follow her past it.

To Wilson's surprise, nothing bothered them as they walked. Nothing at all. It was perfectly still and silent, and after ten minutes he asked, "So the mansion ought to be coming up soon?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Hopefully the gates will be open. And it would be nice if the doors were unlocked."

After another ten minutes or so they took a branching path. A minute after that, they came in sight of the mansion and Wilson's jaw very nearly hit the floor.

Lights flickered on from the top downwards as they drew near the gates. It truly was a colossus of a building, the architecture was splendid, and the best part was that the gates really were open.

They walked in, and lights flickered on around the garden. Moveless golden statues of clockwork knights and bishops shone around the garden, which was full of twisting paths through lovely marvels. Orchards of pomegranate trees, golden cages that he couldn't quite see inside of but which Allena said held birds and butterflies, rows and rows of flowers, ponds fed with small, sparkling waterfalls. It was heavenly.

Maxwell had made all of this…for her?

He shook the thought from his mind and gritted his teeth. _Just focus on the task at hand, Higgsbury._

They strode up to the mansion doors and tugged.

They were locked.

A shiver of cold went up Wilson's spine, and going by the hair that rose on Allena's arms, she felt it too. Then they heard the voice.

_Ah, welcome! So kind of you to drop by, Mr. Higgsbury. And Allena, here I thought Maxwell would have to bring you back by force! Who would have thought you'd come all by yourself?_

Allena looked up defiantly. "I'm not yours, Shadow. I'm just here for something you stole. Open the doors!"

_Something I stole? Well, I suppose I'll own up to that. But stealing from thieves is still stealing, 'my dear'. If you want what lies inside, you'll have to earn it. Perhaps a game is in order?_

Wilson drew his spear. "You want a game? Fine then. Name your terms."

A thrill of amusement washed over them. _Very well. There are but two rules: find the key and you may enter…_

_And try not to die!_

With that, the garden came to life.

The clockwork statues groaned, and let loose with their whistle-like roars. The cages flew open, and out of them flew small bursts of bright red bees and massive crows that looked ready and able to create their own carrion. A huge purple-red tentacle shot out of the pond, and even one of the pomegranate trees came to life in crude imitation of a Treeguard.

Well, bother.

He looked at Allena. She said, "Split up to find the key?"

He nodded. They took off in different directions.

_Oh my, oh dear…not as easy as you'd hoped, I fear..._

One of the clockworks lunged at him, but Wilson could see that its weak point had been covered by a chain link barrier. It would be much harder to penetrate, and therefore not worth the time to kill. They were still slow. He would avoid them. He ran to the orchard.

_Persephone ate of the crimson seed; now nevermore shall she be freed…where is the key, Wilson? Where is it?_

He was familiar with the myth of Persephone, but he chose to ignore the implications. He skated by the pomegranate treeguard, scanning its foliage for a hint of metal, but a long look – taken while he dodged both the treebeast and the two knights chasing him – showed that there was nothing there. He ran for the pond.

_Below the thunders of the upper deep,_   
_Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,_   
_His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep,_   
_The Quaken sleepeth…_

The tentacle was nothing at all like the swamp variety – bog standard, if the pun could be pardoned – for it rose much, much higher than a normal tentacle. It was scaled, and glistened with sea-slime. It very much resembled the tentacle of the Quaken from Warly's tale, and Wilson was glad the man wasn't here to see it. Hadn't Wilson just mocked the idea of the Quaken rising up from a pond?

The key was not affixed to the tentacle, and it was easy enough to scan the waters briefly. The tentacle could not sweep wildly at Wilson as it seemed wont to do, not without destroying the clockwork pursuers, so it could only slam downward once every ten seconds or so. Wilson dodged the blows easily.

No key in the pond. He ran off and looked over to Allena's side.

She'd killed all of the bees and was now going cage to cage searching them as crows beat their large black wings above her head and darted at her when her attention was away from them. He forced down the wave of protective fury that welled up at the sight. She could deal with the birds while he kept looking.

An empty stretch of grass covered the side yard, the only distinguishing features a little glass table in the 'shade' of a birch tree, outfitted with two chairs, and a large and fearsome fossil set up on a stone plinth in the middle of the lawn, at least ten feet tall hunched over like an ape. It had two curling horns, long arms, and short legs. He ignored it and ran across the green.

The birch tree changed as he ran. Its leaves became rank and purple, the base of its trunk split into four segments which shot underground, the foliage split side to side to form a mouth of sorts, and several small branches thrust a huge, ridiculous-looking white eye with a plain black pupil out of the top of the foliage.

The pomegranate treebeast was still behind him, as were the clockwork knights. He could see the roots of the new foe, the poisonous-looking birch tree, slithering towards him like snakes in the grass. He hoped the key wasn't…

Oh, joy. It was.

The little golden key dangled from one of the lower boughs of the vile birchnut tree. He didn't think it would be too difficult to grab, so long as he minded the roots and…

_Tiny little toxic seeds, sprout, now! Grow! Give Mr. Higgsbury a **real** show!_

The tree roared, shook itself, and purple birchnuts flew out of its branches and onto the ground, where they sprouted instantly. Within moments, tiny-limbed purple leaf balls with sharp teeth and small green leaves poking out of their heads covered the ground.

Lovely.

Wilson screeched in frustration. He didn't have time for this!

He ran forward and darted to the side as birchnut roots sprouted all around him. They came up thrashing like tentacles, and tried desperately to swat him, but he made it around them. His other enemies were on his tail. He leapt over the tiny birchnut beasts, landed beneath the branch with the key, jumped up…!

The branch rose just out of his reach, and the tree roared its displeasure at hiving him so close. The birchnut beasties turned and came after him again, though one got stomped by a clockwork as it approached him.

The roots were coming up near him again, so he ran off to get them away. Everything followed him, but some came more slowly than others, and he had to do a fair bit of dodging while they caught up.

Once it was all caught up, well away from the tree, Wilson shot past the mob of mobs towards the tree once, but tripped and sprawled on the grass as a root came up and towered over him. He rolled sideways, and the root only clipped his hip. That would be a small cut, but nothing more.

He got up and ran to the trunk. This time he leapt full into its branches, which it tried to pull away, and as soon as it felt him in there it shrieked in terror and all of its branches started writhing and jerking.

He clung to the branch he was on and inched towards the key. He was being shaken like a kitten clinging to a tree in a rough wind. The branch got thin, but he kept going. The clockworks would be under him any moment, and if they got to him before he got the key then he'd have no safe place to drop out of the branches.

Almost…so close…

_Snap!_

The limb broke, and the birchnut moaned. It seemed very unhappy. Wilson didn't care. He grabbed the entire branch and ran for it.

The key jangled cheerfully on the end, and Wilson shouted, "I HAVE IT! ALLENA, MEET ME AT THE DOOR!"

He worked the key off the end, dropped the log, and rounded the corner. He dropped down as a bolt of light flew over his head – a bishop had fired at him. He dodged the rest of the way from cover to cover.

Allena, who was badly scratched and whose hair was full of feathers, was waiting behind one of the supporting beams on the porch. Wilson hid behind one of these to avoid another lightning blast, then jammed the key in the lock and twisted.

Everything in the garden froze. Then, slowly, like a recording played backwards, everything went back to its original position and settled down like nothing had even happened.

Well. That game was over.

Wilson pushed the door open and said, "I know the rule is 'ladies first', but I daresay I'll take point, shall I?"

She didn't object. "After you."

He went in slowly. The red carpet was quite literally rolled out for them, and they made their way to the main ballroom.

Standing at the base of the stairs was Maxwell.

Wilson stared at the fiend, but all at once got a strange sense of emptiness. This wasn't the Maxwell he knew. Was this…?

"Shadow," Allena greeted stiffy.

The demon that looked like Maxwell stared at her calmly. "Miss Jones. Are you here for Charlie?"

She nodded and looked past him to the door behind him, where she'd described Charlie as being kept. She tensed. The door had been bashed in and everything inside was dark. "Where is she, Shadow?"

He gave her a thin smile. "Oh, I just thought I might shake things up a little. What would be the fun in keeping her on the ground floor? No, no. If you want her, you'll have to work for her, 'my dear'. What do you say one floor for each of the little friends you've made during your stay here in my world?"

Wilson narrowed his eyes. Him, Wolfgang, Winona, Wes, WX-78, Warly, Webber…hopefully he didn't count Gerald, Glommer, and Chester. Or Charlie and Maxwell, since they were now obviously teamed up. Would it count Wickerbottom? She was such a recent addition.

"Fine," Allena snapped. "Seven floors. Now scat."

The demon, surprisingly, didn't object. He just melted away to nothing.

They started up the stairs. Clockworks stood in the alcoves to either side, but they stayed stationary. "That Shadow," Wilson said as they mounted the first staircase. "He's going to make things very difficult for us, isn't he?"

"It," she said.

He looked at her quizzically, and she restated, "It. That thing isn't a 'he'. It's an 'it'."

Wilson frowned, but nodded. "It, then."

"And yes, _it_ is going to make things difficult."

They came to the first door, a pair of double doors that, oddly enough, had a golden machete lodged through the handles.

Allena approached this and pulled it out. "I left this here to block off the shadows. This was where I went crazy enough that they could just flit through the doors."

Ah, yes. He recalled that part of the story. She pushed the door open.

It was as she'd described it, a giant warehouse-like room with shelves and bins, but it seemed that everything had been emptied. All the shelves and bins stood barren. Maybe the Shadow didn't want them stocking up on supplies.

They walked carefully through the maze-like aisles, waiting for something to jump out at them, but nothing did. No, all they had to deal with when they reached the doors on the other side was…

Allena just scowled upon seeing the door's guardian. "What the hell is that?"

It was a large, scaly brown beast with huge, meaty forearms, a slightly bulging belly, and an orange tuft of hair on its head. Its eyes were white and staring, and it had a dreadful underbite.

They both drew their weapons. "Well, this doesn't look too – ACK!"

The thing had shot forward with absurd speed, and in its wake, it left a trail of fire. They both flung themselves out of the way, and it skated by them with inches to spare.

"Dragoon!" Allena exclaimed.

Of course. Warly had told them about these beasts. Well, so long as they only had to deal with one…

The one that had flown past them skidded to a halt, turned, and snarled. The snarling was answered with a dozen _other_ snarls.

He and Allena looked around. Trundling out from between every shelf was another Dragoon. There were a series of loud crashes as glowing red eggs started falling from the ceiling, another dozen dragoons in the making. More crashes and snarls sounded from the back of the room. There must have been forty of the beasts there.

Wilson looked at Allena, then at the door just behind them which the first dragoon had dashed away from. Allena looked back at it and nodded.

They backed away from the beasties as the Shadow's voice sounded in their heads.

_Your skills in combat are quite impressive, you two. I don't suppose you'd mind giving a little demonst – WHERE ARE YOU GOING?_

They'd backed up calmly to the unguarded door and pushed it open. The Shadow had left it unlocked.

All the dragoons roared and shot towards them, but the two stepped through, slammed the door shut behind them, and Allena slid the machete through the double handles.

The door jolted on its frame several times as four or five dragoons barged into it at full speed. They heard a dazed whining coming from the other side.

_CHEATERS! NO FAIR! I MEANT TO LOCK THAT! GET BACK IN THERE!_

"Uh, pass," Allena said. They turned and ran up the stairs.

They could feel the Shadow's irritation with them as an almost tangible thing. It was good to know that the Shadow could make mistakes, too.

They made their way up the next staircase. Before them were four doors.

"Damnit," Allena swore.

"What is it, my love?" Wilson asked.

She sighed. "The Shadow took out all the statues. Now I can't tell which door is which."

Wilson could see what she meant. None of the doors had any distinguishing features, and a few of them actually had giant chunks of material gouged out of the wall.

_Hah! Best of luck finding your way back through your favorite rooms, 'my dear'. I've done a bit of renovation, you see. I thought the distinguishing statues were a bit too helpful. I also took the time to mix the rooms themselves up, so it won't do you any good to simply pick the second door to the right again. Oh, and to be sure you don't take a quick peek inside each and choose a different way if the one you picked doesn't suit you, the other three doors will lock the moment you open one of them. Have fun!_

"Well, I suppose we might always get lucky?" Wilson offered. "Let's cross our fingers and hope for the puppy room. That's on this floor, yes?"

"Yeah," Allena grumbled. "But I always have horrendous luck. There's no way…"

She'd walked forward and tugged open a door at random. A chorus of cheerful, happy barks cascaded out of the room. One out of our, she'd picked the puppy one.

 _OH, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!_ The Shadow thundered.

Wilson grinned as they stepped in. He looked up, plucked a tiny racoon kitty off of a raised walkway, and scratched it between the ears as it purred. "Don't you mean, 'you have got to be kitten me'?" He called to the Shadow as he wound his way between the puppies.

_WHY DID I EVEN LEAVE THIS ROOM IN? MAXWELL, YOU BUFFOON!_

Wilson set the kitty down on another raised platform as they reached the opposite door, bent over to pet one of the pups, which all looked like teeny, tiny Vargs, and chuckled to himself. "I doubt we'll get so lucky again, but let's hope the following rooms are so easy to deal with."

_Not on your life, Higgsbury!_

They got out and went up the next staircase.

There was a double staircase on this one, but it appeared to have been hastily walled off with bricks. The Shadow intended to make them pick a door on this landing.

Once again, there were no definable features marking the doors, so Wilson stepped forward and picked one.

The room they walked into was dark. Allena flicked on her flashlight and looked around.

In front of them was a massive spider's nest. It was still, but Wilson was fairly certain that if it was disturbed, something more dreadful than your average spider would come out of it. That thing looked like it might contain a Queen.

Though Allena had assured him the Shadow could not read his thoughts, it still sent shivers up his spine as the fiend began humming 'God Save the Queen' in his mind.

They were both silent by mutual consent. Allena shone her beam across the rest of the room, as well as up at the ceiling and around all the walls.

Every inch of the room, save the floor, was covered in spiders. Cave spiders, ceiling spiders, tiger spiders, normal spiders…spiders, spiders, spiders.

They were all sleeping, but they would be easy to wake. The floor was coated with webbing. There were small gaps in it, just enough for their feet to land, but it would be tricky. One misstep and they'd be covered in spiders before they could say, 'ick'.

There were two trails of gaps which each led around the queen-nest to the other side of the room, where the door presumably was. Wilson looked at Allena and nodded. The gaps went in two different directions. Wilson look the left path, Allena the right.

They both hopped cautiously over the floor webbing, their feet always landing perfectly within the gaps. Wilson could feel the Shadow watching their moves. He thought it would grow irritated with them the farther they got, but it only seemed amused.

He could see why. Once he got a few steps around the central nest, he saw that the path ended abruptly two gaps in front of him. There was no way he'd be able to jump all the way to the door.

Allena had the free path, and as he watched, precariously balanced on one leg, she hopped to the door and put her hand on the handle. She was ready to go.

She looked at him questioningly, and he pointed to the floor. She scanned it, and her face fell as she saw his predicament. She looked at him worriedly, but he waved a hand in an 'it's fine' gesture.

Very slowly, very carefully, he spun himself around.

The Shadow's focus narrowed in on him as he wavered and wheeled his arms to keep his balance…then withdrew in mild irritation as he found it again.

He began hopping back to the entrance, intent on taking the right-hand path, and he got back to the door with no trouble. Then he steadied himself on the knob, turned right, and began hopping along the correct path. Just like hop-scotch, really.

The Shadow's irritation grew to anger, anger to rage as he made his way easily through the webs without disturbing anything. Finally, three gaps from the exit, it screamed,

_WAKE UP! ALL OF YOU WORTHLESS INSECTS, WAKE UP!_

Wilson nearly overbalanced at the thunderous alarm. The room came to life with a jerk and a million squeals, and he flung himself forward as Allena tugged the door open for him. Spiders began dropped from the ceiling and walls, scuttling towards them, and massive legs were shooting out of the central nest as he reached the door. As they both ran out and closed it behind them Wilson yelled, "Spiders are arachnids, not insects!"

There were several muffled thumps as the grotesque critters rammed into the closed door. They'd made it.

Allena wiped her brow. "That was awesome, Wilson. You have really good balance."

He bowed deeply like an acrobat after a good routine. "My father was a gymnast. I spent a lot of time playing on his equipment with my brother when we were children. Always could beat him on the balance beams."

They made their way up the next staircase.

The Shadow had already regained its composure and now said,

_Best of luck on this floor, friends. I assure you, odds are long that you'll find anything so easy as the last two. One-in-five, I think, and I daresay you've exhausted all of your good fortune._

Wilson looked at Allena, and she said, "I managed to find a bathroom on this floor last time. A really nice bathroom. But the other doors all looked like they might have been bad. We'll want to be ready for trouble."

Wilson nodded. "I'd really prefer the bathroom. I could use a quick, ah…what do you call it? Ah, yes. Pitstop."

Allena allowed a small smile, crossed her fingers, stepped forward, pulled open a door, and they stepped into the bathroom.

 _…I hate you,_ the Shadow said.

Wilson stared around it in awe. The statues and gold were stunning enough, but the sanitary stock, the cleanliness! The bathroom in his old manor had been nice, but it had had fungi growing in it to put the Constant's mushrooms to shame. This…

Wilson spotted the throne, and darted over to it at once. He'd be lying if he said the sight of the room full of spiders hadn't made him want to piss himself.

Once he was done he flushed, stepped back out, and Allena dashed in past him. He washed his hands and studied the room as she took her turn.

Everything really was remarkable. The showers, the towels, the ceiling. Even the tub—

He stared at the bathtub for a long moment as something occurred to him. Looking at the indentations on the tub, which was twice the size of a normal tub at least, it was clearly made for two people.

Sickening envy dropped into his stomach and twisted it into knots at the implication, at the images it conjured up. Maxwell had made all of this for Allena.

_Maxwell._

He ground his teeth until Allena had washed her hands and come over to him. "Ready to go?"

He nodded shortly, and she looked at him, confused. He shrugged her hand off and stormed out of the bathroom.

They went up the next landing. Allena asked, "Wilson, are you alright?"

He sighed and attempted to release his anger on the exhale. "I'm fine, my love. Let us just get this place behind us as quickly as possible.

The next landing made him stop in his tracks. "What in the world…?"

Allena smiled slightly, but there was worry in it. "It's a mirror maze. There are mirrors and glass walls all slanted at angles, and we'll need to feel our way through. I went to one with my sister in Portland as a kid, bumped my head enough times to get a mild concussion. It was a lot of fun."

 _I doubt you'll enjoy this one so much, 'my dear',_ the Shadow hissed.

She didn't look surprised. "No, I guess I won't."

They started into the maze. Wilson trailed a bit behind her, feeling the sides of the glass hall he was in, and they'd barely gone two steps when a window-wall slammed down between them.

She gasped and turned around, and the Shadow chuckled.

_Now, now. Isn't it more fun to do it separately? Take your own paths, you two._

Wilson and Allena looked at each other, worried. No choice, though. They nodded and took off.

Wilson ran his fingers along the smooth panes around him, moving wherever he found a gap. He bumped into a few panes in his haste.

He occasionally caught glimpses of Allena moving through the maze, and once they even ended up right on other sides of a window again, but they always had to keep moving.

Normally Wilson had an excellent sense of direction, but now he was having trouble. He couldn't seem to keep his internal compass straight in this maze. It was disorienting in the extreme.

_Now, let's see if we can't mix things up a little, hmm?_

Wilson didn't like the sound of that, but whatever change the Shadow had made wasn't immediately discernable. He kept going.

He caught sight of the exit and tried to get there, but he was once again stopped cold. He knew that there must have been a way to calculate angles and reflections, but his mind wouldn't let him. Mild panic was crowding in.

Then he heard a slightly shuffling nearby, wheeled around, and came face-to-face with Allena.

He thrust his hands out, expecting another pane of glass separating them, but his hands connected with her instead. Eh, two very particular parts of her.

He jerked his hands back with a blush. "Sorry, my love."

She smiled strangely. "It's fine. Let's get going, shall we?"

He frowned. She hadn't blushed, laughed, or really reacted at all to his misstep. Perhaps this maze was more stressful to her than he'd thought. She had once mentioned that she suffered mild claustrophobia, and even _he_ was feeling boxed in at that point. "Yes, let's."

He found a new exit and started along it. As he did, his skin started to crawl. "My love, did you find anything out of place in the maze? The Shadow said…"

"Nothing at all," she said quickly, and the crawling sensation on his skin redoubled. What was wrong here?

He kept going. The lights had dimmed, oddly enough, and the reflections were getting hard to decipher. He could just see Allena bobbing faithfully behind him. He'd lost sight of the exit to the maze, and he wondered if they ought to double back.

He paused and turned back to her. She was staring at him a bit vacantly. The claustrophobia must have been very bad. "We may want to turn around. I think the exit is back a ways."

She nodded, and he moved past her—

Every hair on his body went on end. As he'd brushed past her, he'd caught sight of something in the mirror that twisted his mind with horror and panic.

Allena. The Allena that was reflected in the mirror _wasn't her._

He caught the sight only for a moment as they acquired odd angles to each other, then it was gone. It was her, but her face was wrong. Her mouth and eyes. Her mouth was a round hole lined with rows and rows of fangs. Her eyes were sunken, empty black pits.

He forced himself not to react, though he wanted to scream. He remembered Allena waking up with a nightmare one night and describing just such a fiend as this. She'd laughed it off shakily, had said it was a monster called a changeling from a ridiculous television show she'd watched growing up – Supernatural – but he could tell it had bothered her.

It seemed the Shadow had been eavesdropping on her dreams that night. It had brought them to life in this twisted maze.

He moved past the changeling easily. He needed to draw his weapon before confronting it in quarters as close as these. "I'm sure the exit is back here somewhere, my love."

He looked at the beast's face and smiled. It smiled back at him. His cover was kept.

He meandered through the glass until he reached what he was looking for – a sharp turn that he could use as a barrier between them while he drew his knife. He didn't bother with his spear – the quarters would be too close.

He slid around the edge, reached back, drew his knife, and turned around. The knife was hidden behind his back. As much as his instincts were screaming at him to, he couldn't just stab the thing in the heart without being 100% certain it was not Allena.

This ought to do it.

"So, you leech-faced freak," he said casually as it rounded the corner after him. "Did Maxwell whip you up or are you entirely a product of that fetid Shadow?"

It froze solid. Then, its eyes sank into its face, its maw erupted with fangs, and it lunged at him.

He brought the knife around and drew it smoothly across the thing's throat as he stepped to the side, parried its thrashing hand, and tripped it. It fell to the floor, twitching, and went still.

He stared down at it, heart hammering, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "ALLENA! THERE'S A CHA—"

But his warning was drowned out as wicked calliope music, jangling and deafening, erupted into the maze.

He cursed and flung himself forward. He needed to get to Allena before that thing did.

He staggered forward as quickly as he could. The music was making his head spin, his fear made his stomach churn, and the image he'd conjured up in his mind, what might happen to Allena if he couldn't get to her in time, was making his movements quick and careless. He bashed into one wall after the other, once even bloodying his own nose, but he kept going.

He rounded the corner and saw his grim copy pressing Allena into a mirrored wall.

She was blushing furiously, mouthing some sort of weak protest, but the thing just smiled vacantly at her and tilted her chin up to its face. Its hands began moving up and down her sides, snaking under her shirt, and she arched her back until she was flush against it. She saw her mouth open in a silent moan.

Her eyes fluttered closed as it kissed her.

He forced himself to freeze. The instant she saw what it was, she was dead. The instant the Shadow decreed it, she was dead. If he plowed blindly forward, he could end up taking the wrong path and it would cost him priceless seconds. He forced himself to focus.

_Angles. Reflections. Where is she?_

A cool, calming sensation washed over him from the top of his head as he heard a light chiming noise. It seemed to be coming from his crown. The Thulecite crown.

_Here. This thing is supposed to protect you and clear your mind._

She'd insisted he wear it, in spite of the protection it might have granted her. Well, now he would use it to protect her.

He reached out and felt the angle of the image in front of him. He examined the image to gauge which direction it was coming from.

Behind him and to the left, the exact opposite direction he'd been inclined to take. He went that way.

The next set of mirrors showed him the image from a different angle. Two ways to go. He checked the angle, the direction. To the right this time.

He rounded another corner. They were closer.

He saw Allena's eyes flutter open. She gazed up at the changeling adoringly. Her head tilted, and her hazy eyes were drawn to something behind it.

Her expression morphed into horror as she caught its reflection in the mirror.

He kept his calm even as the thing's hands clenched around her and its maw sprouted fangs. It tried to latch onto her face, but she tucked her chin in and jerked her head forward in a headbutt that sent the thing reeling back a foot or two. Wilson rounded another corner. Angles. Reflections. Where was she?

She tried to run. The thing grabbed her and flung her to the ground, straddling her and pinning her wrists as Wilson rounded another corner. Now they appeared to be right in front of her, just six feet away. He reached out towards the image to find the angle as the thing reared back to descend upon her.

His hands met nothing. He stepped forward. His hands still met nothing. He stepped forward again. Nothing.

They were right in front of him.

He gripped his knife as the thing snarled loudly enough to be heard over the calliope music, and Allena screamed.

Wilson grabbed the thing's hair and plunged the knife into its heart from behind. It jerked once, twice, then went limp.

He dragged it backwards off of Allena and flung it to the side, where its blood streaked the mirror crimson. The calliope music took on a darker, more sinister tune as if to reflect the disappointment of its player.

Allena lay flat on the floor, shaking violently. Wilson knelt down beside her and helped her sit up. "Allena, it's alright. It's alright, I'm here. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I was almost late. Come on, you're alright, it's alright."

She flung her arms around him and began sobbing into his shirt. She was terrified.

He held her for only a moment. They couldn't afford to linger. He got her to her feet even as she went on crying.

He helped her forward. This time when he found the image of the exit, he was able to methodically work out how to get there. They emerged from the maze and the music faded out behind them.  
He held her as he worked his canteen out of his belt, then he forced a bit of space between them. "Drink, Allena."

She stopped crying, sniffed, and looked at him with wide eyes. Everyone had their fears, and hers had rattled her more deeply than ever he'd seen her rattled. Except, perhaps, for when she'd seen Chester killed by the Varg all those months ago.

But she couldn't afford to be rattled. He thrust the canteen into her hand and guided it to her mouth.

She took a shuddering breath and drank a few sips, hiccupped, and drank some more.

Once she'd gotten down about half the canteen Wilson said, "Alright. We need to get going again. No time to spare. We need to find Charlie, yes?"

She nodded. "I'm s-s-sorry. I j-just…that th-th-th-th…"

He clapped her firmly on the back. "It's alright. It's gone. Let's go."

He led her up the next set of stairs.

* * *

Allena, still jumbled, followed after Wilson.

She felt weak and ridiculous, but that thing – that thing that had turned from Wilson into her worst nightmare – it had taken a clawing swipe at her sanity. It had made her just want to curl up on the floor and wait for it to be over. It had…

She shook herself as they got to the next set of doors. It had distracted her, just like the Shadow wanted. Wilson was right. They had to keep going.

"Which way next, my love?" He asked her.

She wiped her running nose on her sleeve. He was asking her not because it made a difference which door they chose, but because he needed her head in the game. "Um. Ok-k-kay," she stuttered. "We…we're on the fifth floor. J-just this one and two more, then on to Charlie."

Wilson nodded. "We can manage that. Let's see if you can't find us the jungle. I'd love to see one of those…what did you call them?"

"African pygmy kingfishers," she said. She was okay. She was fine. They'd survived. Everything was fine.

She stepped forward and opened a door, but it wasn't the jungle and it was now too late to choose another. Wilson looked at the one they faced and frowned.

They stepped into a golden room that seemed to be filled with nothing but statues of Maxwell.

They felt a long sigh of resignation from the Shadow. _Why am I even surprised at this point? And after I went to all the trouble of putting his Pugalisk in the jungle room. If you'd like to go back and pick again, I'll be happy to unlock the doors…_

"No," Wilson said. "We're fine."

They walked cautiously into the room, and after a moment's hesitation decided to leave the door open. It was a golden panel set halfway up the room on a staircase landing, and was largely indistinguishable from any other golden panel in the room. Right in front of their eyes, a massive, glittering Maxwell head hovered. It was attached to a golden statue at least thirty feet tall, including the arm extended upwards in a triumphant gesture, and was surrounded by the spiral staircase that they'd come out standing on.

The room was nothing but golden panels, many with simple doorknobs on them. The room was filled with these doors, some at the ends of other staircases, others set into the floors, many lining the walls at ground level; there was even a stairway that led up to a door panel that wasn't affixed to anything – a door to nowhere. There were doors set into the sides of columns that held yet more triumphant Maxwell statues, doors set into the upper walls, even a few on the ceiling that could only be reached with golden Maxwell-themed scaffolding and golden Maxwell-themed monkey-bars.

Allena had only one question as she looked around the room. "Why?"

_I believe he hid the door because he wanted you to spend an absurd amount of time in here looking while you beheld his 'admirable' visage. Peacock._

She looked at Wilson to see that he looked slightly ill. "Let's just find the right door and get out of here," he said.

They went quickly down the spiral staircase and started by going along the walls, but they didn't get far before the Shadow said,

_You know what? This is boring. Let's make it more exciting, shall we?_

Water began pouring out of the mouths of every Maxwell in the room in high-powered floods.

"Oh, for the love of…what is this?" she yelled as she ran from the torrential flood now pouring from the thirty-foot tall Maxwell. "An Indiana Jones trap?"

"Indiana Jones?" Wilson asked curiously. "Is this Indiana fellow a relative of yours?"

"No! Never mind! Get looking!"

The water was quickly spreading across the floor. "Check the floor doors first!" Wilson said. "If it gets too deep, the water pressure will keep them closed!"

That confused her briefly, but then she remembered every movie she'd ever seen where people drove into rivers and lakes and couldn't force their car doors open from the inside. She'd always wondered why that was.

They ran around to all the floor doors, but immediately started slipping. The floor was also smooth, solid gold.

They yanked them open one after the other, though by the last one Allena couldn't quite get it. Sure enough, the water atop it had grown too heavy. Wilson ran over and forced it, but it, too, opened onto nothing but more solid gold.

"The walls next," he said with the air of a man only just keeping his head.

They made their way around the room tugging open doors until they'd tried all the ones on the ground level, but they had no time to check the ones built into the bases of columns and statues before they were up to their necks. They just had to hope that none of those were the exits.

Allena swam swiftly over to one of the staircases, but looked back to see that Wilson was struggling. "Wilson, are you okay?" She called.

"Can't…swim!" He gasped as he shimmied up a column. His face was panicked.

She stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment, then jumped back in after him. She made her way over to him, took the Telelocator Staff off his back, and said, "It's okay, leave it to me. Lifeguard certified. Just lay on your back, spread your arms and legs, and take a deep breath. Float, Wilson."

He did as she said, and though it took him a few moments to force himself not to flounder, he got the hang of it. "Oh," he gasped fearfully. "Oh, my. I hate water. I _hate_ water."

"Just float," she said soothingly. "I'll check all the doors."

She swam back to the staircase she'd climbed. The water was nearly up to it by then, but that was the lowest in the room. She'd have time to check all of them…but not if she had to swim with the drag of two staves and the Krampus sack on her back.

She stowed the staves and everything else she had hanging on to her – including her shoes and loose clothing – into the sack and tied the neck of it closed. She tugged open the door to find it was also blocked.

There were four more staircase doors, three doors on the upper walls of the room, and three on the ceiling. They were all extremely spaced out. She couldn't swim that fast with the Krampus sack.

She brought it over to Wilson and said, "Wilson, I need you to take care of the sack. It has everything inside of it, but it's not too heavy. Can you do that?"

He looked at her with wild eyes, and realized that he was on the brink of panic.

She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Take the bag. I'll be right back."

He gulped as she slid the bag onto his stomach, which sank several inches, but with a deep intake of breath he kept himself afloat and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. That would have to do.

She did a quick breaststroke over to the next door and tried it. Nothing. She dove back in and rushed to the next one. Again, dead end. The Shadow's voice, peppy and amused, sprang up in her head.

_Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming, what do we do? We swim, swim…_

How the hell did the Shadow know Finding Nemo? Ugh. Never mind. Next door.

She was falling behind, and worse, she was getting tired. The next door took a lot of effort to tug open due to the water level – nothing – and she was breathing heavily even before she jumped back into the water. One more – nada – and now for the doors on the upper walls. No more platforms to jump off of from here, and what was more she would need to wait for the water to bring her in reach of the knobs.

_Oh, dear. Poor Wilson isn't doing very well, is he? Not much of a beach-goer, I suppose…_

She turned back to see him starting to panic, starting to thrash, starting to sink and gasp. She yelled back in as even a voice as she could manage, "It's okay, Wilson, Just a few more. Just hold on a few more minutes."

He righted himself, but he wouldn't be staying afloat much longer. He was getting waterlogged.

She couldn't help him swim. All she could do was find the exit.

She tugged open another door to find nothing. She was also gasping for air now, from exhaustion rather than fear. She got to the next door. Nothing.

Had it been one of the last ones on the bottom? Was all this for nothing? Had they effectively died five minutes ago?

The Shadow was watching them with obvious glee, and Allena feared that she already knew the answer to that question.

She kicked off the wall towards the last upper wall door. Once this one was done, there would only be three ceiling doors, and that was it. There were now more untried doors beneath them than above.

She got to the next door and tried to open it. The water was up too high, so it was hard, but she braced her feet against the wall and tugged. It opened just a crack – enough for her to see that it, too, was a dead end. On to the ceiling.

She couldn't even attempt the monkey-bars. Her arms were about to fall off. All she could do was wait for the water to get within two feet of the knobs.

She looked back over to see that Wilson had righted himself and was no longer in immediate danger of sinking. His eyes looked oddly glazed, however, and…

…where was the Krampus sack?

Her gaze traveled down beneath the water. It was too hard to see. She submerged and looked.

He'd dropped the sack, and it had sunk, but she felt a surge of mild relief. If it had gone all the way to the bottom, the water pressure would have been too prohibitive for her to dive. As it was, it had been caught by the towering golden Maxwell statue's outstretched hand. It sat there in his palm like an offering to the gods.

She reemerged to see that the water was close enough. She went over to the second-to-last door, pulled it open, and saw the hall of the next floor staring back at her.

"Wilson!" She called. "Over here! I found it!"

In an instant the Shadow's easy glee turned to rage. It must have feared they would find the door, but it had masked its worry well.

Wilson looked over at her, but couldn't seem to make his arms and legs move out of their safe, floating position. She swam over without hesitation, took him carefully by the shoulders, and paddled him back to the door.

He grabbed the edges and heaved himself over. Allena couldn't follow him just then.

She dived down towards the Krampus sack. Her arms were lead and her lungs were fire, but she just kept swimming.

She got to it, grabbed it, and looked up.

Wilson stared down at her in horror through the doorway. He thrust his hand into the water, reaching for her, and she kicked off of Maxwell's golden fingers to head for the surface.

She'd always delighted in how light Wortox's Krampus sack was, but now it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She kicked furiously against the drag it presented, lunging desperately for the surface, but her head was going foggy. Her eyes crossed, and she kept kicking.

She could feel the Shadow watching her with mounting excitement as her muscles gave out. She couldn't keep it up, she couldn't manage it, she…

She felt her hands touch something in the water. It was fabric, fabric weighed down to sink with a heavy leather shoe.

She grabbed ahold as tightly as she could, and she was pulled the last few feet to the surface. The moment her head breached water she took a deep gasp of air and the world swam back into view.

Wilson pulled her out of the room and the world went sideways as gravity changed abruptly. The door had been on the top of the room inside, but was fixed to the wall like a normal door in here. The water rippled on the surface of the open door, but did not fall towards them. Weird.

She lay there catching her breath…and admiring the view. Wilson had removed his shirt and vest, tying the two together to make a rope about six feet in length. He'd tied a shoe to this to weight it down, and it had been enough to get her the last two yards to the surface.

He put on the shoe first, and she let her eyes wander lazily over his abs and pectorals as he wrung out his shirt. He looked down and noticed her noticing him, and he blushed faintly. "Ahem," he coughed lightly. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm." Her head was pounding, but not painfully. Just that dizzy pounding you get from oxygen deprivation. Man, Wilson sure was one good-looking man.

He huffed and shimmied back into his shirt, buttoning it up and slipping his vest on after it. Ah, well. Show's over.

She put on her shoes and extra articles and he helped her up. "Forgive me, my love. I never learned how to swim…"

She gave him a hug and said, "Don't worry about it. We got out alright."

They started up the next set of stairs, but halfway up them Allena's legs were shaking and she had to stop to catch her breath. Wilson looked back down questioningly.

"I'm…fine," she said. Her legs were still numb. She forced herself up the rest of the stairs.

They got up them and Wilson said, "My love, you need to rest for a few more minutes. You're exhausted."

"I'm fine," she repeated. Then she stumbled against the wall and had to brace herself to stay upright.

Wilson watched her for a moment, then caught hold of her and started helping her, not towards the next staircase, but down the hallway. "If this is the hall I think it is…" he murmured.

The got to the end and he pushed open the tall oaken door. It was the bedroom she'd woken up in after she'd died, though much improved for the lack of the Shadow.

"We can't stop here," she mumbled. "We have to…" she yawned widely. "…keep going."

Wilson shook his head and led her over to the bed, threw back the covers, and ushered her in. She hit the pillow and went limp. "It's likely at least midnight by our time," he said. "We've been going all day, and after that last you need some sleep. Go on. I'll keep watch for a few hours."

She tried to protest, but now that she was horizontal she found it impossible to force herself up. Sleep was dragging at her mind like an anchor, and before she knew it, she was unconscious.

* * *

It seemed to her that she slept peacefully for a good long while. Eventually, however, she found the darkness fading as twin lights flickered slowly to life on either side of…what was it?

Oh. Maxwell's Throne.

The man sat in the chair, hunched over, and as she stood there staring he looked up. His face was drawn, and he looked very, very tired. "Oh, finally. I've been trying to reach you for hours," he said dully.

She tilted her head. He'd been trying to talk to her?

"Yes," he snapped. "Forgive me for interrupting your little nap, but have you forgotten what you're supposed to be doing? _Charlie?"_

She felt a sharp jab of worry poke at her guts. Charlie. Right. She needed to wake up, to get going.

"Yes," he snarled. "And sooner would be preferable to later. It's not like I – ARGH!"

He cut off and jerked in the Throne as dark energy crackled through him. His face clenched up in an expression of agony, his back arched, and a high-pitched squealing noise was forced from his bulging throat as the jolt went on and on. Finally, it stopped, and he slumped, gasping, on his throne.

He looked up at her, and she understood why he looked so exhausted. This had been going on all night.

"Yes…" he rasped, still breathing hard. "It…has. Now, wake up…and get…going…"

And as another jolt of wrathful energy arced through him, Allena woke with a gasp.

Wilson was sprawled out on the bed beside her, the picture of a man who had fallen asleep keeping watch. She shook him awake. "Wilson!"

His eyes shot open. "Ah…I…did I nod off…?"

"It's okay," she said hastily as his eyes widened with guilt and he sat up. "The Shadow's been preoccupied. But we need to go – it's torturing Maxwell."

Wilson looked at her, then scowled as he looked around the room. He flumped back down on the bed. "Are you certain we can't rest up a while longer?"

Allena felt a genuine bolt of anger at Wilson. He hadn't seen what Maxwell was going through, had been going through all night while they'd slept. "Get up," she sniped.

She forced herself out of bed, out of the room, and she ran down the hall to the next set of stairs. "Allena! Wait!" Wilson called, and ran after her.

She was not foggy from sleep. On the contrary, she was wide awake with adrenaline, and as she dashed up the stairs Wilson caught up with her. "Don't run off like that!" He said harshly. "We need to stick together!"

"Then keep up!" She snapped back, and ran to one of the doors.

"Allena—"

She flung a door open to see that the inside was full of particularly horrifying creatures. They looked like deer, shaggy and brown, but they had no eyes. Instead, jutting out of their faces were gems of red and blue.

They were standing perfectly still. Allena, who could see at once that fighting this many beasts was not a winning proposition, ran right into the midst of them. She ducked and weaved her way through the herd, but strangely enough, they didn't react to her. They just stood perfectly still. It reminded her of the nurse scene from Silent Hill.

Wilson followed silently after her, and it wasn't until they reached the other side of the room and opened the door that the herd came abruptly to life.

They howled and bleated and turned to charge, but she and Wilson had already slipped through the door and now closed it. As they did the Shadow snarled,

_Sneaky little wretches. After I was kind enough to let you get some beauty sleep, you go and take off again without even giving me time to prepare! These rooms don't work themselves!_

"If you're a bird, be an early bird, and catch the worm for your dinner plate!" Allena called as she started up the next set of stairs. She glanced back to see which room that one had been. They would need to come back down through them all, and she had no intention of trying the deer room once the Shadow was actually powering it.

They went up the next staircase. This time, there was only one door. This ought to be their last one.

Allena stared at it. "Ready, Wilson?"

He was staring at her closely, almost scrutinously. "I am," he said. "But may I ask why you're in such a rush to help Maxwell?"

She blinked and looked at him. Did he really hate the man so much that he wanted him to go on being tortured?

She was about to tell him to just get his head in the game, but instead she considered his question carefully. Why did she want to help Maxwell so badly?

"Well," she said, forcing herself to slow down. "For one thing, I promised to get him out of here."

"You didn't specify when. And you seemed bothered by the idea of him being harmed. Why?"

She thought back to Charlie's face when she'd told her he was in trouble. "Charlie is afraid for him. I just don't want her to see him…I don't know, damaged?"

Wilson sniffed. "He's been here for decades. The damage has been done."

She sighed tiredly. "I don't know, Wilson. What do you want from me? I just don't like to see people in pain. Even people like Maxwell."

As she said this, Wilson's expression softened imperceptibly. Then he shook it off and ran his fingers through his hair. His expression hardened again. "Yes, yes, alright. Off to fetch Charlie. And Maxwell," he added with as little disgust as he could.

He stepped forward and opened the door.

The last room they had to deal with was…

Home.

They blinked and looked around. It was a nearly perfect replica of the peninsula on which they lived, with a few exceptions. The bases were gone, a small but beautiful garden in the place of the main camp. The Vargwood was no longer burned down, but stood green and healthy, a gentle breeze rustling the pines. The ponds were peaceful, no monstrous toads in sight. Bunnies hopped across the plains, their burrows reconstructed.

On the edge of one pond stood a small table.

Allena went over and inspected this. Teatime implements were on the polished wooden surface, and two comfortable-looking chairs sat on either side of it. It was the same setup, just the same, as that first day Maxwell had come to visit her.

She looked down at her feet. One of the rabbits, soft and brown, had hopped over to her and was snuffling at her foot. She bent down to pet it, and it didn't even shy from her.

She and Wilson walked in silence to the garden where the base stood in the real world. Marble planters held every tea plant she could imagine, and many more besides. Chamomile, Ceylon, Assam; blueberry shrubs and raspberry vines and blackberry brambles; orange and cherry trees fruiting – and in full blossom as well, against the laws of nature.

In the middle of the garden stood a heavily laden pomegranate tree. Beneath it was a wooden bench meant for two people to sit side by side.

Allena felt a wave of feeling wash over her, but she couldn't define exactly what it was. Pity? Maybe. Sympathy? Perhaps more of that. Guilt? Why? Was it her fault Maxwell made all of this in anticipation of her? No, but she thought there was guilt there, nonetheless.

Sorrow? Yes, a fair bit of that. She could only imagine him starting in a barren wooden room, building all of this up around him, wondering whether or not she would ever come to love it. To appreciate it. Wondering if it would ever be enough to make her happy in the prison that had been his personal hell for years beyond counting.

She looked to Wilson and saw the stony set to his jaw. Finally, she realized what had been troubling him for the last day. He was jealous.

She took his hand. "Wilson, he was lonely. You can't hate him for that."

"Yes, I can."

She gave him a small half-smile. "No, you can't."

He looked down at her, lips pursed, and relented. "No," he sighed. "I can't. But I can't help hating him for other things."

She could accept that. "Do you think you'll be able to let that go long enough to help him?"

He stared at the sight before them, a place that could easily have been mistaken for the Garden of Eden at a glance, and she could see the thought flashing behind his eyes.

He closed them. When he opened them again, they were clear and bright.

"Yes," he said evenly. "Now, let's go rescue Charlie. And Maxwell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the changeling. I google imaged it when I wrote this chapter, thinking, "There's no way that thing was really as scary as I remember!"   
> Oh, yeah. still frigging freaky.  
> In other news, I saw Cirque du Solei the other day! Ama Luna. It was AMAZING! Jeez, that lizard-man. Honestly, I would've picked him over Mr. Shipwrecked any day of the week.   
> Ahem. Anywho...thank you, Midnyte! I'm glad you've been enjoying the story! Yeah, I found the game's hopeless struggle a bit depressing, too. That's why I had to really take some creative liberties with the lore, so the story would be able to have a definite ending. Hopefully you'll enjoy it!  
> Also, some of you may notice that I changed my username. Yeah, I made this account years ago, picked Spunkytreemonkey as a generic default. Just changed it because now that I'm actually using it, I want to be consistent with my FFA persona. I am The Topaz Dragon.   
> Well, anyways! Thanks for the comments and kudos, as always!   
> Sincerely,  
> The Topaz Dragon


	62. Reuinited

They wandered around to look for the door out. The door in stood in the open air, and if it was against a wall it was a wall she couldn't see. Unlike the jungle, there was nothing to imply that this wasn't an open, boundless world.

As Wilson moved to check the Vargwood and she to check the Northwood, the Shadow's voice echoed in her mind. She knew it was speaking strictly to her.

 _My dear,_ it crooned softly. _Do you not see all that he has done for you? I was there all the while as he made this. I could feel the desperation in his heart, his secret prayer that you would one day grow to love this place. To love **him.**_

She scanned the trunks of the trees and walked a short ways into the wood. She came upon a wall fairly quickly, and it was clear why she couldn't see the edges of the room. They were rounded, like a dome. No corners.

She moved along the sides as the Shadow went on.

 _Perhaps I have been too harsh on you,_ it said quietly. _Mortal love…it is such a baffling concept to me, but I've learned enough to realize that it would be foolish to ask you to kill your friends. A bargain made in ignorance and anger can be reneged. I release you from your obligations._

"Kind of you," she said as she ran her hands up and down the walls, searching for a doorknob. "Considering I never intended to follow through in the first place."

It chuckled. _Yes, I see that now. A clever little thing you are. At least as clever as Maxwell, and infinitely more amusing, I think…_

She emerged from the Northwood and skirted around the back of the garden, along the cliffs. Where was the exit?

_Perhaps a new deal is in order? Hear me, my dear – I will free Maxwell from the Throne._

She paused, listening. "What? Free Maxwell?"

_Yes. Free Maxwell. He has held up well through the decades, but even he has his limits. I will set him free…and in exchange, I will give you all the power of Creation in the Constant._

She froze. "You want me to take his place."

 _Yes,_ it purred. _Take his place. Make the Constant however you please. You can make this world an Eden for your friends, for any you'd like to bring along for the ride. You can have Wilson all to yourself, or Maxwell, or both if you'd like. You can do as you please, with no one to answer to._

She narrowed her eyes. "No one but you."

It chuckled. _You won't even notice me there. Not for decades._

"And after decades have passed? What then?"

_You needn't worry about that. It is such a very long way away._

"Tell that to Maxwell," she said without thinking.

She felt a pulse of rage, then a sudden cooling, as though the Shadow was forcing its temper under control.

_Well? Are you tempted, my dear?_

She opened her mouth to say 'no', but instead she found herself saying, "I'll think about it."

She Shadow hummed in her mind. Her hand found the doorknob. She twisted it and pulled the door open.

Thank goodness. "Wilson!" She called. "I found it!"

Wilson came running out of the Vargwood and over to her. "Lovely. On to Charlie, then?"

She nodded, still perturbed by the last few minutes. "On to Charlie."

* * *

Wilson stepped through the door behind Allena. They came out into a long hall. There were stairs going up just across from them, but they were boarded off.

He kept on his guard as they walked. The last room had been too easy. He wouldn't put it past the Shadow to try something underhanded at the last minute.

They reached the doors and pushed them open.

It was a large room, all lined with shelves and shelves of books. There were cupboards filled with games like chess, checkers, and many others. Comfortable reading chairs and booths set into the walls for dining and game playing gave the room the vibe of a gaming lounge, the kind where people went to smoke fancy cigars, sip whiskey, and roll dice. Then, once the rowdy crowd had cleared out, to sit with a tall glass of strawberry dessert wine and read some large, heavy tome before a crackling fire, the smell of cigar smoke just barely lingering in the air.

It was very nice. Or it would have been, had it not been for the shadow-creatures crowding every available inch of space…plus some.

Charlie's tank stood in the middle of the seething mass of shadow beasts, and she was clutching her arms and looking around at them worriedly. Not openly fearful, as it seemed clear that they couldn't – or wouldn't – hurt her, but she definitely wasn't happy.

When she saw Allena, however, her face lit up. She pressed her hands against the tank and watched them imploringly.

Wilson examined the shadow-beasts. The crawling horrors meandered to and fro like sows in a pig pen packed well beyond its ethical capacity, the terrorbeaks lurching between and towering over them like ornery farmers. Wilson frowned as one of the beasts passed by. Unless he was mistaken, it had a blue cap on its head and a mop jutting out of its side.

They were all mostly transparent. If the Shadow brought about one of its dimensional shifts as Allena had described, then they would be dead in moments, but until then they were fine.

Allena stood frozen, staring, so Wilson pushed boldly forward. Their choice was clear. Take the risk, or leave.

Allena followed him. She shivered as she passed through the creatures, which collapsed and manifested several feet away whenever they walked into them. The two of them were able to make it to the tank.

Charlie looked at Allena hopefully, then looked around the room searchingly. Allena said, "Don't worry, we have a plan. Think you can bear with us a while longer?"

Charlie expression became one of grim determination – as grim as she could manage, at any rate. The young woman was too perky and sweet-looking to really hold with grimness.

 _Well, well, well,_ the Shadow said, its tone faintly mocking. Charlie looked up defiantly at the voice. _You've managed to reach her. What are you going to do now, might I ask?_

Allena looked at Wilson, then around at all the Shadows, then shrugged. Wilson nodded at the tank, jerked his head back at the door, then nodded at the Krampus sack. Translation:

_What do you want to do? There are too many shadow monsters here._

_Let's get the tank out of the room where it's safer, then load it into the sack._

She nodded. They positioned themselves on either side of the tank, gripped it firmly, and hoisted it off the ground.

Wilson and Allena both grunted. It was very, very heavy. Thankfully, it didn't crack or show any sign whatsoever of structural instability. As Wortox had said, it was very sturdy. Allena had described bulletproof glass to him once. Perhaps this stuff was of similar ilk, albeit more magical.

The Shadow's mockery turned to confusion. _You cannot seriously intend to carry that thing all the way back, can you?_

They ignored it and got the tank out of the room. Charlie watched them the whole time, looking like she wanted to object to the strain they were putting on themselves.

They closed the door behind them, putting at least something of a barrier between them and the shadows. Then Allena took the Krampus sack off, took out everything they would need, and said, "Sorry about this, Charlie, but we just have to get you where we're going, okay?"

Charlie looked puzzled.

Wilson nodded to Allena and laced his fingers together in a foothold. Allena took the sack, shook out the brim until it was wide enough to envelope the edges of the tank, stepped up on Wilson's hands, and threw the sack over the top. Then she tugged it down as she stepped off.

Abra cadabra. The entire tank vanished into the sack.

 _WHAT?_ The Shadow roared. _HOW DID YOU – KRAMPUS, YOU FILTHY MONGREL!_

There was a chorus of wavering howls from the room they'd just vacated, and black ooze started seeping out from under the door. Good thing they'd put that barrier between them.

"Alright. Now, everything we just did yesterday, but in reverse," Allena said nervously.

"And at high speed," Wilson added helpfully.

The ooze at their feet started to bubble, attempting to take on vicious forms rather than viscous ones, so they turned and ran down the hallway.

They sprinted through the garden and closed both doors behind them. Then, on the next floor down, they paused before the spread of doors.

"Not the deer door, right?" Allena asked.

"Right," Wilson said, and picked another one at random.

He flung it open to a giant ice cave. It was like a frozen lake surrounded by snowy slopes and slides, a winter wonderland. Off to their right was a shelf chiseled into the ice, covered with snow supplies. Across the icy lake was the other door. There was no way they would be able to run it.

Allena didn't hesitate. She grabbed a large, flat round sled and set it on the ice, handed Wilson two ski poles that were among the supplies, told him to get on the sled – he did – and ran behind him back into the hall. Then she sprinted forward and flung herself onto the sled behind him.

The sled slid smoothly across the ice, and carried them more than halfway before they started to slow down. "Use the poles!" She said.

Right, of course. He dug them into the ice behind them and pushed off. They kept going, though as a slower rate.

Allena said, "Uh, faster, please."

Wilson didn't ask why. He got the sense that he already knew. He dug the poles in more rapidly, and soon they reached the other side.

They both hopped up, though Wilson slid a bit on the ice, and Allena ended up shoving him through and slamming the door.

_BANG!_

It jolted in its frame. Those things had been closer than he'd anticipated.

"My parents loved snow days when we were kids," Allena explained as she tossed the ski poles aside.

They ran down the next flight of stairs. As they did, Allena began tying the neck of the Krampus sack closed. Wilson wasn't sure why until they reached the next set of doors.

Water rippled on the surface of the one they'd taken last time, and his throat closed up. "Ah, we're picking another door, yes?"

"Nope," Allena replied. She handed him the now sealed-sack. "Hold onto me and the sack, and I'll get us there."

Wilson swallowed heavily but focused on doing as she said. She took a deep breath and dove in first.

He went in right after her, placed the sack over his stomach, lunged forward, and wrapped his arms around her waist so the sack was pressed between them.

At once she kicked off, arms stroking powerfully forward to force them deeper and deeper. His thought scrambled, and his ears started to ache. It had been so easy to sink before – why was it so hard now?

His lungs were already starting to hurt, but he couldn't see far enough beyond Allena to tell where they were. Close? Please let them be close. He couldn't stand this for much—

Then Allena jerked them forward, and they fell out into the next hallway, both heaving for air.

"Nicely done…my love," he gasped.

"Thanks," she replied breathlessly.

Wilson went to shut the door behind them, and almost shrieked as a shadow-beast that looked like the Loch Ness Monster lunged its head out after him.

He tried to slam it shut regardless, but the thing's neck was surprisingly solid. "Leave it!" Allena said. "We'll close the next one!"

The only problem was that the next one didn't have a door. It was the mirror maze.

Wilson plunged forward first, and this time Allena stuck to him as tightly as possible. They couldn't afford to be separated again.

Wilson could feel the Shadow's ire trickling after them through the mansion. He ignored it, and this time as he went into the maze he retained his sense of direction.

They backtracked to where Wilson had slain the changeling. It was still there, and it stank after only half a day's decomposition. He then followed the route he'd taken before that, leading them past the second changeling. Allena looked down at it with disgust as they walked over it.

The turned the corner. Just ahead of them, a terrorbeak loomed. It was the one with a mop and cap.

"Oh, great. You again," Allena said.

It saw them and rushed them with a screech of excitement. There was no time to draw their weapons before it…

…bashed into a plate glass window three inches from their faces.

Allena laughed heartily, her fears of the maze forgotten, and Wilson led her easily back to the entrance.

They dashed down the stairs to the bathroom. "Hope you don't need to go again," Allena said.

"Thankfully, no," he replied as they passed through the room that had made him spark with jealousy just yesterday. Not that it mattered anymore.

They got to the spider room and flung it open to see that all the spiders were still awake and angry. Wilson slammed it shut with a screech of revulsion. Was the Shadow still locking other doors?

He tried another one and thankfully found it was unlocked. This one was an open expanse of water with a canoe in it.

"Uh, try another one?" Allena suggested.

Wilson snorted. "Just hold on to me, my love. I've always wanted to take you canoeing."

He hopped into the little boat and grabbed the double-sided paddle. He used it to push off from the door-shore once he felt Allena get in behind him, easily slipped it into the water, and started rowing.

Allena held onto his waist. "Wait, you know how to canoe?"

"Yes," he said. "My brother taught me."

"How do you not know how to swim?" She asked incredulously. "Why would your brother let you into a canoe if you didn't know how to swim?"

"Oh, simple. I wanted to learn how to canoe without learning how to swim, so I lied and told him I knew how to swim."

"And you never ended up having to swim?"

"I never fell out of my canoe."

He took them effortlessly through the water, but off to his side he saw a long, black neck snake up out of the serene surface. It didn't cause a ripple. "My love," he said. "Can you man the defenses? And take care not to tip us."

He felt her draw her sword. The shadow approached, and as it lunged for them she swung.

The shadow beast dissipated, but appeared again few feet away. The boat rocked dangerously.

"The spear instead, please," Wilson said tensely. "Longer range."

Allena grunted a short affirmative at him, and he felt her grab his spear off his back. They were almost to the other side. Oddly enough, this room wasn't designed to look like an outside scene, blue skies and green banks. It was just a giant wooden room full of water. And two canoes.

"Here comes Nessie again," he said as the beast surged towards their boat. Allena carefully leaned one way and thrust the spear out the other, counterbalancing the blow. The shadow dissipated, reforming on the opposite side this time.

They made it to the door, bumping into the second canoe docked just beneath it. Wilson stood up, stepped into the second vessel, and reached for the handle.

Allena yelped. He turned to see her overbalancing, falling backwards, the spear flailing around…

He caught the spear and roughly jerked it forward, bringing her with it. He grabbed her and held her steady as he opened the door and helped her through. The spear fell, and he couldn't pick it up before he had to slam the door closed again the shadow-Ness monster.

She looked at him guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said. Chances were there wasn't anything down here he could kill with his spear, anyways. "Let's go."

Then something odd happened – the world seemed to flicker grey.

Allena jerked to a standstill. Her eyes widened, and Wilson knew what was happening. The same thing that the Shadow had done to her the last time, and that had happened to her twice since. The reality shift.

Wilson couldn't feel anything more than a mild strain at the back of his mind, but Allena looked to be on the brink of succumbing. Even the Magiluminescence wasn't enough to ward off the Shadow's assault on her sanity.

Wilson remembered what Allena had said about his crown – that it would provide some mental protection. Stylish or no, she needed it more than he did just then.

He pulled the crown off and winced. The world flickered grey again, and this time it lingered for several seconds, but Wilson forced the sensation away. Allena needed help.

He put the crown on her head and she relaxed a bit. Her eyes came back into focus, though they still stared straight ahead as though looking at something he couldn't see. Then she shook herself, her eyes went up to his face, and she said, "Thanks."

He nodded, but felt a bit dizzy. They needed to get out of that mansion.

They stumbled down another floor. He reached for a handle, but Allena tugged him away. "This one, remember?"

He looked at the door she was pointing to and nodded dazedly. What an awful ringing in his head.

They opened the door and were met with the normal, joyous barks. They were almost enough to drive drown out the ringing.

He frowned and looked down. One of the dogs was trying to jump on him, and it was really uncommonly cute. Short, stubby legs, big, floppy ears, a curly, wagging tail, and a red, slobbery tongue. It was a soft brown, and was looking up at him hopefully.

Wilson had always been a sucker for puppies, despite his outwardly heartless approach to animals. He scooped the little fellow up, and as it licked his face joyfully the ringing in his head diminished further.

Allena failed to notice his spur-of-the-moment adoption until they were halfway down the next staircase.

"Wilson," she said as she finally took note of the puppy. It barked gleefully at her. "Is this really the time?!"

He pouted. "You've brought home several pets. It's my turn."

They didn't have time to argue the point. They just made for the hall.

As Allena had described, the clockworks came to life as they tried to escape. Wilson realized that he would be hard-pressed to evade them while one of his hands was occupied with a puppy, so he stuffed the little beast down the front of his shirt, which was tucked into his pants. It poked its head out of his collar and barked excitedly.

A pair of knights came out to greet them. As Allena described, the knights stepped towards each other, bent over, and rammed heads as he and Allena approached.

Allena rolled under them while Wilson leapt over them. The second pair of knights repeated the maneuver, so Allena bounded off the floor to jump over them while Wilson dropped out of his leap to roll under them. It may well have looked like something right out of an acrobatics show. If only his father could see him now.

They both darted behind the bishops to avoid the blasts of energy, and were also able to slide behind the rooks. Wilson smacked one's rump as he went by, and it turned with a mighty roar to try to smash him. All it got was a face full of the second bishop, however, which solved half of their remaining problem.

Wilson dodged around the third knight as the bishop across from him fired, and the lightning bolt hit the knight and caused it to screech in metallic pain. The final knight lunged at Wilson, and he dodged out of the way, allowing it to bash into its ally.

Allena had fared just as well as he, and they both rushed out into the ballroom.

The Shadow in Maxwell's form stood in the middle of the hall. It didn't look happy.

Wilson glanced to Allena. She nodded to him. They did not need more communication than that.

They rushed down the staircase. As the Shadow opened its mouth to speak, they both ran straight past it.

They felt a pulse of rage, and barely made it out of the room before the doors slammed shut. The Shadow howled after them,

_DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S RUDE TO IGNORE YOUR HOST?_

Allena grinned wildly at Wilson, who called back, "Don't you know it's rude to try and murder your guests?"

The front doors slammed shut as well, but Wilson merely grabbed a marble bust of Maxwell off of a nearby table. Thank goodness there were so many of those. As they reached the entrance, he threw this with all his might at one of the windows flanking the doors. The window smashed, and he covered his new puppy's head and burst through.

He felt a bit of pain as broken shards of glass cleanly caressed him going out, but that was fine. He'd cleared a big enough hole for Allena to get through without trouble.

She jumped after him, and he noted with satisfaction that she was not cut at all. Now the last obstacle was the gates.

They'd already talked about this. Wilson took the Krampus sack, ran forward, and heaved it over the gates. Then he locked his fingers, bent a bit, and rocketed Allena up as she stepped into his hands. She reached the top of the gate, swung her leg over, and only sustained a small gash from the pointed tops before she dropped down and grabbed the sack.

Wilson was able to use his upper body strength to easily scale the fixture, though before he did he passed the puppy through the wide bars. Allena took it, scratched it behind the ears, and handed it back to him when he jumped down beside her.

They'd gotten out clean.

They looked up, and Wilson shuddered – partly in exhilaration, partly in fear. Shadows were peering down at them through every window in the house.

Allena had already reached into the Krampus sack and fetched their lights. "Shall we?"

He nodded. "We shall."

Off to Maxwell.

* * *

Allena was shaking with spent adrenaline. She knew she couldn't let her guard drop even for a moment, but boy had that been a wild ride.

She winced and doubled over as a sharp pain rent her stomach, followed by a loud gurgling sound. It occurred to her that they'd done all of that without having eaten since dinner the previous night, and that hadn't been much more than a snack. "Uh, hey…" she said as soon as they were out of sight of the mansion. "You want to stop for a quick bite to eat?"

Wilson said, "Oh, thank goodness you said something. I'm about to collapse."

Their newest companion barked happily as they sat down. She looked at the critter, torn between worry and puppy-love. It was very unlike Wilson to do something like that so spontaneously. That was more _her_ style. The Shadow's reality shift must have taken a serious toll on him at the time. Well, the puppy was their responsibility now. Now that they were out of the mansion, though, she didn't need the crown anymore. She passed it back to Wilson.

They pulled out the Krampus sack. She set it down and opened the lip of the sack, peering in.

She could see the top of Charlie's container a few inches down, and Charlie looked up at her, wide-eyed. "You okay in there?" Allena asked, concerned.

Wilson poked his head over too. Upon seeing that both of them were alright, she smiled shakily at them with a thumbs up. "Glad to hear it," Wilson said. Then he lightly smacked his forehead. "Ah, forgive me, I should introduce myself. My name is Wilson Percival Higgsbury. I'm Allena's fiancée."

Charlie gaped, then looked excitedly at Allena, who grinned sheepishly and held up her ring finger, whereon glinted her stunning green ring. She'd asked Wilson a while back if they might need the gem for the Gateway, but he'd waved her off. The shard, though sizeable by wedding ring standards, was too small to be of use for anything really practical.

She'd also asked him where he'd gotten it. He'd blushed and rubbed the back of his head, then mumbled something about a tumbleweed. She'd chuckled, but hadn't pressed.

Charlie looked at the ring, clearly impressed, and gave Wilson a little curtsy of greeting. He smiled, a bit wearily, and said, "Pleased to meet you, as well."

Allena said, "It'll be a few more hours of traveling before we get where we're going. You okay with that?"

Charlie nodded, and Allena said, "Good deal. We're taking a quick break for breakfast, then we'll set off again."

She pulled their rations out of the sack – they were down to jerky and berry preserves by then, but had plenty of them – and they sat and ate, giving a few scraps of jerky to the pup. They finished off the rest of their water, too, checked in on Charlie one more time, then took off.

They walked for a few minutes, then Allena laughed lightly.

"Something funny, my love?"

"Did you see the look on the Shadow's face when we were running past it? It was so mad!"

Wilson grinned. "Was it? I was focused on the doors."

She laughed again. "Oh, yeah. And can you believe how lucky we were picking doors? Puppies, bathrooms, golden statues…"

"That was less easy-going than I think Maxwell anticipated," Wilson said. "You'll need to teach me to swim sometime, my dear."

Allena nodded. "Happy to. There's a pretty decent gym in my town, it has a heated pool and everything. I'll be happy to take you down this fall or summer or something."

"Or perhaps we can visit Warly in his coastal home sometime," Wilson said eagerly. "He says that in summer the ocean is as warm as a bathtub."

Allena ooh'ed at the very thought. "A vacation to southern France. That would be amazing. And we'll have to drop by Paris – I've always wanted to see the Paris catacombs."

"Such a morbid dream!"

She shrugged easily. "What can I say? Dying twice really puts a new spin on the idea of death."

She was worried that the mention of her plights might be an uncomfortable subject for Wilson, but to her pleasant surprise he laughed. "No doubt. You'll pardon me if I try to avoid the experience."

Allena snorted. "I heartily recommend you skip it. All that 'white light at the end of the tunnel' stuff is crap. It just plain stinks." Then she considered. "Though I've gotta say, if there's one thing I appreciate about my last death, it's that I didn't die cold."

They chatted as they walked towards Maxwell's throne, and their talk came easily. There seemed to be nothing out here to bother them. Indeed, given how adamant the Shadow would be about keeping evil-Charlie out of the Epilogue, they could probably walk in solid darkness and not be bothered in the slightest. Clear roads from here to the end of the end.

That said, evil-Charlie had been weighing on her mind more and more since her last trip to the Epilogue. Ever since she'd been tasked with drawing her down there, she'd been wondering how best to do that. It hadn't been until her last trip to the caves that she'd gotten the idea.

It hadn't been a device from the pseudo-science machines, or some bit of eldritch knowledge that had given her the dark inspiration. Just a fleeting feeling, a flash of emotion gathered in her short sprint across the darkness when she'd been running to rescue WX-78 during the Nightmare Cycle. Perhaps it had been her shattered sanity that had allowed her such a clear glimpse into the heart of the demon-infested woman, but Allena now know why exactly Charlie had been coming after her so fervently, so wrathfully.

They walked on, and as they drew nearer Allena grew more and more nervous. Not because of the ritual, or the thought of seeing Maxwell, or even the concept of facing the Shadow. No; she was nervous for another reason. She was nervous about what she would have to do to lure Charlie's physical form to them.

They finally came within sight of the lights that flanked Maxwell's throne, and at that point Allena decided she would need to go over her plan. "So, Wilson, you know how I said I had an idea about how to lure Charlie to us?"

He glanced over at her. "Yes! I've been wondering about that. In fact, it's been the only part of this whole thing that I've been truly anxious about. If you can't manage it, then this was all for naught."

Allena nodded. Though given that they now had Charlie's good half with them and the ability to free Maxwell, there might be a possibility of escaping to help Charlie another day; but odds were that if Allena couldn't lure her down there against the Shadow's will, she wouldn't be able to lure her anywhere against the Shadow's will.

"Well," Allena said uncomfortably as the lights drew slowly closer. "You…uh…you know how Charlie loves Maxwell?"

"Yes?"

"And…you know how she's been really aggressive towards me since…oh, I don't know…around mid-winter?"

"Yes?"

"And you know how Maxwell has been trying to make me, like…I dunno…his personal plaything?"

"Yes?" Wilson said, interest obviously piqued. He wasn't seeing how those things all related.

"Well," she went on. "I caught a flash of her emotions at one point down in the caves, and it kinda pulled it all together for me. Evil Charlie is…jealous."

Wilson was silent for a moment, so she added, "Of me."

"Yes," he said, amused. "I got that. I suppose I can see how that would be the case…so, you think that your mere presence in the darkness will be enough to lure her down here again? She wants to kill you so badly that she'll defy the Shadow's orders once more?"

"I'd like that to be the case," Allena said. "But I don't know if it will be. You see, she already made it around the Shadow's orders once before, and I think it may be harder to lure her down here this time. I think I might have to do something really…" She swallowed. "Egregious."

"Egregious?" Wilson said, baffled. "I'm not—"

He broke off as he connected the dots. "Oh. Oh, dear. I…"

She let him process it for a minute. Given how much jealousy he'd been dealing with for the last day or two, this was going to be a hard pill to swallow.

Finally, he replied. "I see. Well, if…something egregious…is what you must do, then far be it from me to complain. If it gets her down here, it's worth it."

His words were very careful, very level, and very calm. Allena felt infinitely grateful that he wasn't stirring up a fuss about it. It would have made it a lot harder. "Awesome," she said, voice a bit too hearty to be believable. "Great. Cool."

They were almost to the light by then, and before they got in earshot she said hurriedly, "I really don't want to have to, I mean I really don't, and I hope that we don't need to, but we might, and…"

She trailed off as they stepped into the light. Maxwell was sitting on the Throne, twitching.

His neck was craned down, his hands twisted into claws, his back hunched. As Wilson stepped forward, the man let out a low wheezing sound.

Allena dashed over to the throne and reached out. "Maxwell? Are you—"

 _"Back!"_ He snarled. _"Don't…touch…me!"_

That was when Allena saw the slight crackle of light arc over his skin. He gasped in pain.

"Wilson," she said hurriedly. "The Shadow is hurting him. We need to get him out, now."

"Won't…be…enough," Maxwell choked out through his clenched jaw. "Shadow…inside…gah!"

Wilson pulled the Telelocator Staff out of the bag and asked, "Allena? What does that mean?"

She stepped back. "The Shadow is inside of him. Getting him off the Throne won't fix that. He needs to expel the Shadow himself."

Suddenly, Maxwell stilled. When he looked up at them, they saw only the pure white of the Shadow's eyes. "Oh, he's well beyond that," it said with Maxwell's mouth. "He couldn't force me out of him now even if I hadn't been wearing him down for the last few hours. I'm here to stay, _my dear."_

That was why the Shadow hadn't come after them when they'd left the manor. Like last night, while they'd slept, it had been here. Torturing Maxwell.

Even as she thought it Maxwell screamed again and his spine arched backwards. He threw his head back and howled. They felt only a hint of the excess energy wash over them, and it made Allena feel wretched.

Wilson shook his head, eyes wide. "Allena, I do not know how to handle this."

She didn't either. There was no way, after all, to force the Shadow out of someone. The pseudo-science station had told her that, and if a civilization advanced enough to make all of that hadn't been able to expel the Shadow…

She shook her head, forcing herself to think. Come on. If they couldn't force it out, then they would have to convince it to leave on its own. But how? A bargain? She'd made too many of those, and it wouldn't take anything she offered. Unless it made the deal first—

_Perhaps a new deal is in order?_

Her heart skipped a beat. The Shadow had already offered to free Maxwell.

Her mind started racing, and a plan quickly presented itself. She thought she could do it. She was pretty sure. And if she could, if she could get the Shadow out of Maxwell for just a moment, that one moment would be all she needed.

She stepped back towards Wilson. She slipped a Magiluminescence out of her pouch and handed it covertly to him. Theirs were still hidden beneath their shirts. The plan revolved around the Shadow not knowing they had them. If it did, they were screwed.

He took his, looked at her, and she glanced at Maxwell. Then, she stepped forward.

"Stop, Shadow."

Maxwell, who had been twitching and jerking with increasing violence, stilled. He looked up at her, eyes the white of the Shadow. It grinned. "Yes?"

She took a fearful and involuntary step backwards, but forced herself not to retreat any further. "Let him go."

It narrowed its eyes playfully at her. "And if I do? What will you give me in return?"

She closed her eyes, clenched her fists, then relaxed. Then she looked it dead in the eye and said, "Everything."

In a heartbeat, Maxwell's pupils dilated to visibility, and when he spoke it was him. "No!" He rasped, horrified, then let out a low huff of breath and doubled over as though he'd just taken a hard blow to the gut.

When he looked up again, it was the Shadow. "Everything?" It said.

"Everything," she replied. "Everything you said before. Remember? It was only this morning."

The Shadow licked its lips, and its breathing notched up. "Everything. The deal. Our deal. And in exchange, I release Maxwell?"

She needed to keep this believable. That meant bargaining. "And let them both go, back to the surface world. That's all I want."

Its grin was downright feral now. "Easily, easily, easily! The safety of these two wretches is nothing to me. Come, my dear! Say it. Strike it true. Our bargain. _Is it a deal?"_

She stepped back once more, putting as much space between her and the Shadow as she could, and glanced at Wilson. Then down at his fist, which was clenched around the necklace so hard that his knuckles were white. She looked him in the eye, and saw understanding flash over the horror.

Then she turned back to the Shadow and said, "It's a deal."

There was no fanfare or hesitation. The Shadow erupted forcefully out of Maxwell, so forcefully that it slammed him back into the throne, and it shot straight at Allena. It was a physical thing, a steak of void that skimmed through the air like a manta ray.

What happened next happened in heartbeats.

Wilson shot forward, a golden gem in his fist.

The Shadow reached Allena, wrapping around her like a serpent.

Wilson threw the chain around Maxwell's neck…

And Allena's own necklace flared into light.

_Magiluminescence. Provides a glow of light around the wearer, gives a small boost of physical stamina to the wearer, and clears the mind of the wearer._

_Also prevents a wearer not possessed by the Shadow from being possessed by it._

The instant the Shadow touched her, it was flung backwards in a crackle of light and energy. It shrieked in subaudible agony as it was repelled by the power of the Magiluminescence around Allena's neck. It hovered there only for a moment before shooting back towards Maxwell, but the necklace Wilson had flung around his neck flared to life as well.

The Shadow whipped towards Wilson in a frenzy, and Wilson stood calmly as his necklace flickered and shone.

The Shadow was out of options.

It flew between the three of them as fast as thought, prodding, seeking, and grasping at them each in turn. Their necklaces lit up again and again to repel it, like an industrial bug-zapper being tested against a locust swarm. Or Mothra.

Finally, the Shadow roared in fury. The sound echoed around their heads, but it sounded distant. Weakened.

The Shadow flew up into the air and took off into the darkness.

* * *

Maxwell stared slack jawed at the two people who stood before him, which was not a usual or appropriate look for him. Nonetheless, it took a long moment before he was able to wrench his jaw shut and say, "You…you dispelled it."

Allena smiled triumphantly, and nodded. Then she turned to Wilson and said, "You want to take care of the second part?"

The scientist nodded. Unless Maxwell was mistaken, he had a puppy sticking out of his shirt collar. He took the canine out, set it on the ground, and reached back into the bag to pull out what appeared to be three small totems topped with carved wooden horns. They were of the same material the staff he held was made from. He placed the three totems in a triangle, drew lines between them with chalk as the dog chased excitedly after his hand, and topped the totems with three pristine purple gems.

That all done he stepped forward, raised the dark-wooded staff with the violet gem set into its crown, and pointed it at Maxwell.

Maxwell was getting very nervous about all of this. Purple gems were seldom good news, and the scientist was using a lot of them. "What are you—"

There was a flash of violet light, a rush of dark power, and Maxwell found himself stunned, on his ass, in the middle of the triangle the gentleman scientist had drawn. The three gems on the totems were gone.

He sat there, moveless, for several seconds. Then, he lifted one arm.

For the first time in nearly a century, he was able to raise it without the restriction of the Throne.

He stretched out a leg. It moved. He raised both of his hands to his face. They were free of manacles, free of shadow.

He forced himself to his feet and instantly pitched forward as he overbalanced.

A pair of warm arms enveloped him. He grunted in surprise as he found himself being held up by the girl. Allena.

She helped him regain his balance and asked, "You feeling okay? Must be kind of a shock, suddenly being able to move around like this."

He looked at her, then back at the throne, then down at his hands and feet.

Free. He was _free._

His face split into a wide smile, dry lips cracking as he did so. He threw back his head and laughed.

"Free!" He cackled. "After all this time, I'm finally free!"

He stood there panting heavily for several more moments, then his smile faded. Cold uncertainty pounced on him, souring his victory. "Where is Charlie?" He demanded.

Allena looked to Wilson, and they once again nodded to each other. "Ready?" Allena said.

Wilson scowled. "I'll set up the ritual."

Maxwell watched as the gentleman scientist began chalking a circle around the trio of totems. He muttered angrily as he did this, and repeatedly had to pick the puppy up and move it out of the way. It kept trying to bite the chalk.

Maxwell asked, "What is he doing? What ritual? _Where is Charlie?"_

Allena raised her hands in a calming gesture, but Maxwell was not calmed. "It's okay. Charlie is fine. At least…part of her is."

His eye twitched. "Part of her? What is that supposed to mean?"

Over the next ten minutes, while Wilson set up the ritual, the girl explained what had happened.

Maxwell collapsed onto the ground, more out of physical exertion than shock…at least, that's what he told himself.

"A shattered soul," he said. "That is why she has been so…"

"Violently insane?" Allena offered.

He bared his teeth at her, and she drew back with a wince. "I'm sorry," she said. "But really, she'll be just fine. Wilson knows how to get her back together; all we need to do is get her body here, he'll put the rest of her soul back in, then she'll need to expel the Shadow. Once that's all done…"

"Expel the Shadow?" Maxwell said doubtfully, but then considered. The Shadow would not have torn her soul asunder in the first place if she hadn't been capable of fighting it off. And if the better half of her soul was as well-preserved as Allena suggested…

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I suppose that ought to work. But pray tell, how do you plan to get her into this circle? The Shadow was insistent about it – she will not be allowed down here again, and even if she was, she would not deign to stand in this chalk ring long enough to have her soul rebound."

Strangely, the girl blushed furiously at his simple inquiry, and said, "Um. Okay, well, first off, Wilson will use the Telelocator Staff to get here into the circle, and we have a way to hold her, too."

"But how will you get her near enough for Higgsbury to use the staff?" He prompted again. "She would have to be absurdly close. And the Shadow will not permit her to enter the Epilogue again."

"Well, she wasn't supposed to come down here last time either, right?"

Maxwell nodded. "True. Charlie and the portion of the Shadow within her are so tightly bound that she can command its power, even against its greater will, at times. But that would require an extraordinary motivation on her part. What do you propose?"

Again, the blush. What in the world did the girl have in mind?

"I'm not sure if you've noticed this," she said. She seemed to be having trouble moving her mouth at this point. "But Charlie…is…kind of…jealous."

He blinked.

"Of me," she clarified.

He blinked several more times.

Of course.

Ever since he'd made the deal with Allena, from what he'd learned, Charlie had been hounding her ravenously. He'd never made the connection before then, but it only made sense. The Shadow in Charlie, being one with the Shadow in him, may easily have learned that he had been pursuing the girl. She was jealous.

He connected this with the furious blush, and finally understood.

"Ah," he said. "I suppose that explains your fiancée's ill mood."

Wilson whipped his head around and snarled, "Not a word about this, Maxwell! You just play your own damn part, and we'll play ours!"

He smirked. "Certainly, Mr. Higgsbury. Now, how's that runic circle coming along?"

The man went back to chalking the circle. It was complex, one of the most complex ones Maxwell had ever seen. Yet he did not doubt that the scientist could pull it off – not after all he'd seen from the man.

But Charlie…Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. "Does she know what we intent to do? Her better half, I mean?"

"Uh," Allena said, and he glared at her. "I didn't mention it to her, but I could if you want."

He rolled his eyes. "I would certainly appreciate it if she did not think I was…"

Allena picked up the hint. "Yeah, I've got it. I'll…uh…have Wilson explain it."

The scientist heard that. "Why me?!"

Allena blushed once again and said, "Because I sure as hell don't want to!"

The circle took another fifteen minutes to ready. Higgsbury set up the gems again and activated the focus. Then, they took their great white sack, set it in the middle of the focus upside down, and pulled the sack up.

The tank that Allena had described to him was revealed. Inside of it hovered Charlie.

She was facing away from him, and for a moment he was gripped by an absurd urge to run, to hide behind the throne, a pillar, the darkness, anything.

Then she turned around and saw him.

He stood there, ragged, worn, and pale before her. Before the half of her soul that had been torn from her body because of his idiot mistakes. He, the man who had taken everything from her, who had subjected her to all that she had endured these last decades, and for an instant he was certain that Allena had lied to him when she'd said she feared for him. Surely she hated him? How could she possibly feel any other way?

Then…she smiled at him.

A shudder racked his body, and he stepped forward to the glass. "Charlie?"

She pressed her hands up against the tank and stared up at him. Her fingers twitched, seemingly with longing to escape their bounds and draw closer to him.

His mouth moved of its own accord, and he said, "I'm so sorry, Charlie."

He said nothing more. Her eyes widened, and her hand moved up further, as though reaching for his face. Unable to say anything, she just bit her lip and gazed at him through slightly watering eyes.

Then Higgsbury cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Yes…well, we need to get this ritual going, so if I may fill her in on the plan?"

Maxwell's face colored. He tugged at his tattered collar as though it were restricting his airways in any way, shape, or form. "Ah, are you certain we have to go about it like this?"

Wilson fixed him with an overly polite stare. "Well, I don't know, Maxwell. Do you know any magical spells that will summon her evil doppelganger to us?"

Maxwell scowled. "You know full well that I don't."

"Very well, then. I'll fill her in, shall I?"

Maxwell groaned, looked back at Charlie, who seemed confused, then covered his face and stalked away. He crossed his arms and walked until he was out of earshot.

He could still vaguely hear snippets of conversation, but he didn't want to know what the man was telling her, why they suspected that her darker half would be jealous of Allena.

"…a few incidents…tea parties, and such…personally can't stand the man myself, but…"

Allena came over and stood beside him. She glanced over and said, "I really don't think she'll be angry with you. She doesn't seem like the type."

He sighed heavily. "It's not anger that I'm worried about. I simply don't want her to be hurt."

At this, the girl looked up at him. He saw something like kindness in her eyes, and he looked away quickly. Nothing about him was worth her kindness.

After a minute, Wilson called, "Fine then, we're ready!"

Maxwell turned back, fearing the expression he would see on Charlie's face, but what he saw surprised him.

She was standing with her arms crossed gently in front of her, looking at him with a gentle, knowing smile on her face. The look said nothing or hurt or betrayal, nor of anger or disgust. It was simply…understanding.

That look made the difference between the plan being shameful versus simply embarrassing.

He sighed, looked at Allena, and said, "Well, I suppose we ought to…get in position," he said carefully.

Her face turned beet red, and she nodded. "Yup."

Neither of them moved.

Wilson stood there, tapping his foot, then he looked over at Charlie and said, "See? I told you neither of them want to do this."

Though none of them could hear it, Charlie began laughing.

* * *

Everything was ready. The Telelocator Staff was focused, and as soon as dark Charlie appeared Wilson would use it to teleport her into the tank which contained Charlie's soul. That would keep her encased long enough for him to work his spell, and after that it was all up to Charlie.

Then they could go home. To Earth.

Just the thought made Maxwell dizzy. Home. Home, after all these years. Home, with Charlie.

There was just one little thing he needed to do first.

He and Allena stood a short way from the setup, their line of sight to it broken by the Throne and the pillars. They'd dimmed their lantern as much as they were able, until only the barest glow illuminated the two of them. Dark enough for Charlie to appear. The two lights atop the pillars around the Throne had been doused, and now the only lights that shone were those of two lanterns – theirs, and Higgsbury's.

The scientist stood a short way away from their light, hidden behind one of the pillars to watch them like a filthy voyeur. When Charlie appeared, he would step out and fire the Telelocator staff. Then he would turn, run mere feet to the ritual circle, and begin the incantation. She would only be teleported about fifteen feet.

There was no longer any point in delaying. "Shall we, Miss Jones?" He asked formally.

She nodded sharply. Her eyes were wide and staring off into the darkness, as though waiting for the demoness to appear. She wouldn't, though. Not without provocation.

Maxwell intended to give it to her.

He placed a finger under the girl's chin and tilted her head up towards him. Then, without further ado, he descended upon her.

He was glad that they were just out of line of sight of Charlie's light-tank. He would have been mortified to have done this in sight of her. As it was, he was able to tone it down to mere embarrassment.

Allena flinched from the kiss initially, then leaned cautiously into it. Their quarry, knowledgeable of all that was done in the darkness, would be drawn to them by her jealousy…but they needed to make the show convincing. The bait had to be very tempting. Thus, the show.

For a few moments the action was perfunctory. Her lips, soft and warm, molded pleasantly to his, which were somewhat cracked and dry. Then Allena breathed deeply through her nose, reached out to grip his hip, and boldly drew him against her.

A lovely jolt shot up his spine at the sensation, despite his inner insistence that he was only doing this because it was necessary. Charlie would see them, wherever she was, and her rage would be enough to draw her to them. Still...

He groaned lightly. Even his homunculus had felt little in the way of human contact over the years. How long had his physical body been without it?

Too long.

Allena's fingers pressed into the small of his back with fragile strength, sending a shudder up his back. The sensation of being touched, willingly, by another human being, was warming him from within like a quick shot of whiskey. Also like a quick shot of whiskey, he found his inhibitions and good sense wavering, being totally drowned out by a desire for _more._

He wrapped an arm around her waist and crushed himself against her, but broke the kiss and gasped as he lost his balance once again. His newly freed body wasn't doing exactly what he needed it to.

She squeaked as he fell to his knees, but she went with it. She dropped with him, clutching him to her and pulled him down further as she laid back on the cold stone floor. Her legs had splayed out to catch herself falling and he found himself nestled cozily between them, her warm thighs pressed against his hips. He growled with the sensation. Too long. Entirely too long.

His body moved of its own accord. He pinned her down and descended upon her neck, recalling the carnal bliss he'd indulged in that day in the Thornwood Base when Higgsbury and the mime had been out and about. Oh, what a pleasant afternoon that had been. He hated to think it with Charlie so close, but Allena was _delightful._

She was writhing gently beneath him. He nipped at the vein pulsing thickly in her neck and she whimpered as he latched onto it, lavishing it with kisses. He moved up along her jawline and took her mouth once again, her sweet, warm mouth that tasted vaguely of jerky and fruit, not an unpleasant combination—

She moaned into his mouth, and he found himself growing terribly dizzy. She was warm, so warm. He wanted more of that warmth. He snaked his hands up under her shirt, smoothing his palms over her smooth, creamy skin, and…

…he felt it. The presence that had haunted his survivors for nearly a hundred years.

Charlie.

He forced himself to ignore the demoness, even as Allena tensed beneath him. They couldn't spook her now. He continued to run his fingers up and down Allena's sides, over her belly, up even higher, until the girl was gasping beneath him. If he wasn't mistaken, those gasps were no act, nor were they borne entirely of fear…as they hadn't been that day in the Thornwood Base.

Less than a minute after they'd begun, Charlie was upon them.

He felt her plowing through the darkness of the Epilogue, fast as a bullet, and he could even sense her intentions. To reach the one who had dared to touch what was _hers,_ to rip the pretentious girl limb from wriggling limb, and it would be up to Higgsbury to make sure that did not happen.

Then the presence went still.

Maxwell looked up, sure for a moment that they had failed and that Charlie was gone.

That was when the black, clawing hands shot out of the darkness and sank into Allena's shoulders.

Her dazed, cloudy eyes widened, and her heady breathing turned into a shriek as she was yanked backwards towards the darkness.

Maxwell said, "No! Charlie! Wait—"

He tried to grab onto Allena, to prevent her from being dragged off, but there was a rush of black and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back, stunned. He reached up to find a thin line blood trickling from his cheek. Charlie had slapped him.

Allena was screaming in the darkness, thrashing, and Maxwell knew she would be dead in moments without intervention.

That intervention came just in time. Wilson had stepped out, carefully aimed the staff, and let loose with a burst of purple light.

The light illuminated the figure for just an instant. Charlie, her entire body steeped in darkness save for her face, her eyes black and shiny as hot tar with only a sliver of white for pupils, looked up. Her hands were nothing but huge black claws, one of which was lodged firmly in Allena's shoulder, the other brought up as though it was been a moment away from sinking into her throat.

Then the figure was gone.

Wilson turned and ran back to the circle without hesitation. Maxwell wanted to as well, but he instead grabbed the lantern and ran to Allena.

She was breathing heavily, clearly in pain, and he increased the glow of the lantern so they could see and helped her up. "Allena, are you alright?"

"F-f-fine," she stammered. "I'm f-fine."

He dragged her towards the circle, where Wilson had begun chanting.

He chanted not in Latin, but in the language of the ancient race itself. He held his arm out towards the circle, which was starting to glow with an eerie light.

Within the circle, Charlie and her Shadow were together in the tank.

Shadow-Charlie was looming over her spiritual counterpart, hissing furiously, but Charlie just stood there with her arms crossed and a disapproving frown on her face. She shook her head, and the Shadow spat something at her. Then it turned to the glass and brought a fist down on it.

A small crack appeared in the tank.

Maxwell's heart skipped a beat. Allena had told him that if that tank broke, Charlie's soul would be beyond saving. She would be lost.

Wilson kept chanting, unheeding of the drama, and Charlie brought her fist down again. The crack grew.

She began hammering away at it, and the crack became a spiderweb. The web grew, grew, and the light within the tank dimmed—

"Charlie!" Maxwell yelled, running forward.

Wilson hardly stumbled in his chant. He just kept going even as Maxwell began to speak.

"Charlie, it's me. Maxwell. You remember me, do you not?"

Shadow-Charlie stopped, looked at him, then rasped, _"Max…well…?"_

He nodded gravely. "Yes. Maxwell. Please, Charlie, I know you are angry, but I'm trying to help you. We're all trying to help you."

The demon's eyes shot towards Allena, and it bared its fangs. _"Kill you! Rip you apart!"_

It brought its fists back again, but Maxwell reached out. "No! What has happened is not her fault, Charlie. You know it isn't. The one you ought to hate…is me."

Again, the fists paused. A pair of white pupils locked onto him.

He'd been going over this in his head since the first day he'd been bound to that Throne. Now was the time to confess it. "Charlie, it is my fault you're here. My fault you have suffered all you have suffered. It was my greed, my lust for fame and power, that made of me a victim of the Shadow's influence. And because you had chosen to stand beside me, it took you, too."

Within the tank, the demoness whined, high and sharp.

Maxwell went on. "I assumed you dead, Charlie. I assumed you dead, and it wasn't until these people…Higgsbury, Jones, your sister – you remember Winona, yes? You used to tell me about her all the time—"

The whine got louder, and the pupils dilated.

"It wasn't until they came along that I realized you could be saved. And even still, I was too weak to help you. I was too weak to defend you. I was too weak to do anything. With all my power, I was too weak."

He looked at her pleadingly. "So please…let me help you now."

Both Charlies stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

Then the Shadow blinked, howled, brought her fists down—

 _"—TRACULA ABDIDOS CARCUL!"_ Wilson hollered.

There was a flash of light, and the tank shattered into dust.

* * *

Allena coughed and brought her hand up to cover her mouth. She could barely breathe.

She blinked the dust out of her eyes and saw that a figure was lying in the middle of the circle where the two Charlies had been.

Maxwell, who had hunched over against the force of the spell, saw the figure and ran forward without a word.

Allena joined him, as did Wilson. Had it worked? Was Charlie whole again? Or…

Charlie lay unconscious on the ground in a tattered silver dress with a black sash about her waist. It looked like her. Was it?

Maxwell lifted her gently, placing her head in his lap the way Wilson had done for Allena so many times. Charlie's eyes fluttered open, white eyes with black pupils, and she looked up into Maxwell's face with sleepy confusion.

Then the colors in her eyes reversed, black to white, her lips wrenched back in a snarl, and her hand shot up to claw Maxwell's face off.

He jerked his head back, seemingly unsurprised, even as Allena and Wilson jumped away and shouted, "Woah!"

Charlie was snarling, but Maxwell didn't shove her away. "Charlie? Is that you?"

The demoness that still possessed her hissed incoherently at him and swiped again. This time she landed a small blow, and a little line of red appeared on his chin.

He sighed. "Yes, I know. I realize you must be mad at me. After all, that which has been so long possessed by the Shadow, forced to do its bidding…that is a part of you, too."

Her eyes bulged and she lunged up, intent on getting away, but Maxwell held her close. "It's alright, Charlie. My dear Charlie. I know."

She hissed and flailed her claws around to his back, raking through the thin fabric and drawing line after line of blood, but he did not let go. After a while, the hisses began to sound like sobs.

_"Ahhh! You…no! Let me go! Let me go!"_

Maxwell smiled, even as the marks on his back grew and multiplied. It was a smile that Allena had never seen on Maxwell's face before. It was a smile of genuine happiness. "My dear," he said quietly. "After all of my mistakes and all of my misdeeds, no force in Creation could tear you from me again. I will be here for you until the End of Days."

Charlie stilled. Her clawed hands wavered. Then, before their eyes, the shadow melted away from them, leaving her fingers pale and soft.

Charlie began shedding darkness in waves, the way fog drops from a flask of water and dry ice. Maxwell held her close as she began to buck and twitch, and when the darkness was gone she rattled out a deep breath.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and turned to look up at Maxwell, who was slightly hunched in exhaustion. Her eyes were no longer black, but they weren't exactly the same as the Charlie in the tank's had been. They were heavier. Sadder.

But they were also hopeful.

"Maxy?" She asked.

He held out a hand to her. "Charlie, m'dear. I fear I've left you quite wrong-footed. Can you ever forgive me?"

She took the hand at once, examining its pallor and the way it shook, just slightly, in her own. She looked up at him and said, "Oh, Maxy. I already have."

Maxwell's throat seemed to tighten, and he was lost for words. When Charlie reached forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, he looked like a hanging man whose noose had just been cut. He was a man who had been given another chance at life.

He hugged her back, and the two looked at peace.

That, naturally, couldn't last.

A thrill of power swept over the party, and Maxwell looked up sharply. His sentimentality was quickly doused, and he helped Charlie to her feet at once, stepping between her and the approaching presence.

Allena expected the Shadow to come swirling out of the darkness, and she recalled the last Magiluminescence. She pulled it out of her pouch and put it around Charlie's neck. "This'll keep the Shadow out of you," she said.

Charlie looked quite appreciative. "Thank you. It was pretty tough to shake off."

They turned to watch the blackness.

The feeling of its power was growing by the moment, but it still did not emerge. Why?

Then they heard it, far in the distance. A thunderous footstep.

Then another.

Then another.

Maxwell's eyes widened, and he said, "Oh. Dear God, no."

Wilson looked at him, startled. "What?" He said. "What is—"

"Run," Maxwell said shortly. "We need to run."

"What? Where? And what is—"

Again, Maxwell cut him off, his voice now shrill with panic. _"Run!"_

And with that he turned away, grabbing Charlie and a lantern, and headed into the darkness.

Wilson swore, threw all of their belongings into the Krampus sack, scooped up the puppy and shoved it in his shirt, then took off after Maxwell. Allena followed, too.

As the little Varg in his shirt barked excitedly, Wilson snapped, "Maxwell! Where are we going? How do we get out?"

"I made a device for this!" Maxwell snapped back. "It isn't far, just follow me!"

They followed him, their lanterns swinging joltingly in the darkness, and the sound of distant footsteps drew closer. Allena glanced back, and what she saw was almost enough to make her pause.

A faint red glow hung in the dark sky some ways back. She saw a central light – or maybe it was multiple lights – and some small streaks of color swirling off to either side. It was almost pretty.

She stumbled over a rock, and forced herself to keep looking forward.

They all ran as fast as they were able for several more minutes. The whole time, the pounding on the ground grew louder. The next time Allena looked back, her mind just about froze.

The thing was close. It towered at least forty feet, and three red orbs bored down at her through some sort of shattered face.

"Here! With me!" Maxwell cried.

They had reached another teleportato. Maxwell thumped it on the top, as Allena had done, and it whirred to life. "It will take all of us," Maxwell said. "And it will take us wherever I desire. Where is the Gateway?"

"At the base!" Wilson said. "What is that thing?"

He too was looking up at the monster that approached them, but Maxwell only grabbed his arm and jerked him close to the machine. Allena, too, crowded in, and Maxwell's arm wrapped around Charlie.

"Take us to Wilson's base," Maxwell said.

Shadows flowed from the hexagon to encircle them, but it was too late. The creature had arrived.

It peered down at them.

It spoke.

_"I will make you understand."_

Its hand came up, then flew through the air towards them.

The shadows reared up around them, and everything went black.

Black and white.

They'd made it.


	63. What Came Before

Maxwell's spell deposited them in a familiar place – the location he and Allena had had their first tea party.

Allena shook herself and found that she was sitting on the greenery near one of the ponds, which was rippling. All around them, the toads had scattered and the last few were just jumping back into their ponds. Evidently, they didn't much care for shadow magic any more than she did.

She stood up. Wilson was on his back, and the lump on his shirt suggested that the Vargling hadn't enjoyed the trip and had ducked away to hide against Wilson's chest. Maxwell and Charlie were also on the ground, and Maxwell was covering his eyes.

Allena offered the two of them a hand up. "Are you alright, Maxwell?"

He made an aggravated sound. "My eyes…"

Oh, right. He'd been living in relative darkness for decades. The afternoon summer sun was probably uncomfortable. "Ooh," she said sympathetically. "Yeah, come on. Let's get you some shade."

"Fine," he said, standing up without her help. "But let's move quickly. I want that Gateway up and running posthaste."

"Certainly," Wilson said pleasantly. "But first things first…"

He'd just stood up, and now he walked over to Maxwell, grabbed the man by his collar, and jerked him forward until they were nose to nose. His eyes burned dangerously. "Remove. Allena's. Necklace."

Maxwell blinked at him, held up a hand, and snapped his fingers.

Allena winced as a small jolt of energy shot through her sternum like a zap of static. She reached down her shirt to find that the violet necklace no longer glowed.

She looked at Maxwell hesitantly, and he growled, "You can remove it safely now. The power is gone."

She took it off. Nothing happened, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks," she said. She tucked the necklace into her pocket.

Wilson let Maxwell go, but still looked like he wanted to hit the man. He wouldn't dare, though. Charlie had just watched the confrontation with wide eyes, and Allena could tell she'd been half a second away from throwing herself between the two.

Maxwell rubbed his throat and said, "Well? Happy now? Perhaps we can focus on getting ourselves out of a world that is under the control of a demon capable of devouring entire sentient species?"

Wilson looked like he wanted to start bickering, but Allena stepped forward. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Anyways, we need to get back to base." She looked at Charlie excitedly. "Your sister is gonna want to see you."

Charlie gasped. "Winny's here?"

Wilson did a double-take at the name. "Winny?"

Charlie wasn't listening. She looked at Allena hopefully, and Allena jerked her head over to the hill base. They would all be up there, assuming they'd followed protocol.

They all started towards the base. They were halfway there when a very anxious-looking Wes came out, clad in armor and armed for bear, and spotted them.

His jaw dropped, then righted itself in a joyful grin. He turned back into the base and waved his hands a bit, then ran off into the forest.

Wolfgang came out a moment later, and as soon as he saw them he thundered, "AH-HAH! HEROES RETURN VICTORIOUS!"

He came out, and on his heels came Gerald. The massive rock lobster clicked his giant claws and rushed towards Allena, who jogged forward to greet him. Maxwell, upon seeing Gerald, spat in disgust and muttered, "You brought one of those things back? Bah…I banished those for a reason."

She ignored him. She'd barely greeted her lithic pal when a short shriek split the air, followed by, _"Charlie!"_

Charlie stepped around Gerald, eyes searching, and spotted Winona.

The two froze. Then both of them sprinted for each other, full-tilt.

It was something right out of a movie. They barely slowed enough to avoid knocking heads when they hit, and Winona wrapped her sister up in a massive hug. Charlie leaned her cheek against Winona's shoulder and said, "Winny! Oh, I could hardly believe when Allena told me you'd come after me. I can hardly believe I'm seeing you now."

Winona's voice was boomingly loud in her excitement. She leaned back. "Hah! Like I could even think of leaving my little sister to fend for herself when I knew she was out there. Other people might have thought the Constant was the worst thing that ever happened to them, but the happiest day of my life was finding out you were alive, sis. Second happiest, I mean. I'm pretty sure this one takes the cake."

"Yeah?" Charlie asked laughingly. "Even better than the day you got promoted to the head of your assembly sector at the old factory?"

Winona rolled her eyes, playfully shoving her away. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

Charlie turned back to the others, eyes sparkling. "Oh, you should have seen her when she came to visit me after getting that promotion. She was jumping up and down and squealing like a little girl who'd just gotten a pony for her birthday!"

Allena's eyebrows popped up. That did not sound like the Winona she knew. "You're gonna have to tell me all about it sometime. But first we've got to introduce you to the group and get the portal up and running. That okay with you two?"

Winona nodded. "It's all ready to start up. We've just been waiting for—"

Wilson ran past them towards the Gateway, closely followed by Maxwell.

Winona watched them go. "—you guys."

Allena said, "Well, here we are. Shall we?"

Winona and Charlie looked at each other, then back at her. "We shall," they said.

Gerald trundled after them as they jogged to the clearing where the Gateway was, and Allena introduced him verbally to Charlie as they walked. As they passed the base, they saw something that really caught Allena's eye – no pun intended. It was a Houndius Shootius, but a better one than even Wilson had been able to make. They'd coated the Guardian's horn in Thulecite, which shone with its telltale geometrical lustre, and rather than being situated on it the Deerclops eye actually hovered over it. It looked…highly potent.

They passed it by, and thankfully it didn't shoot them, though it did eye them creepily. When they got to the clearing, they found Wilson working on the Gateway while everyone else stood in a big semicircle around Maxwell, glaring daggers at him.

No one was saying anything, and Maxwell looked very, very tense. Allena sensed that violence was a hairsbreadth away.

She was about to step forward to intervene, but before she could, Charlie did. She walked over to Maxwell, looked up at him, looped an arm around his waist, and leaned against him. He looked down at her, slightly surprised, but he put a hand on her hip as well and went back to facing his previous victims, now potential attackers.

Charlie spoke. "Um. Hello. I'm Charlie. Are you all Allena and Winona's friends?"

Allena came over as Wolfgang scratched his head. "Eh, yes. I am Wolfgang. Am pleased to meet Winona's little sister, but do you have to stand so close to Maxwell? He is not good man. Wolfgang was actually rather hoping to punch."

Warly winced at Wolfgang's blunt response. "Tact, my good man, tact," he said as Charlie's eyes widened. He stepped forward with a slight bow. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Charlie. After all Winona has told us of you, I believe we all feel the same. My name is Warly."

Webber hopped forward, legs twitching, and Charlie looked at him with equal alarm. "We are Webber! You look like a nice lady!"

Charlie's mouth twitched in humor, and she covered her mouth and giggled at Webber's candid friendliness. Ms. Wickerbottom stepped forward next and said, "I am Ms. Wickerbottom. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, but you'll want to be careful of that fellow beside you. He's quite charming, but I've found his intentions in the past to be rather devious and underhanded."

Maxwell rolled his eyes. Charlie bit her lip as the next group member stepped forward. Wes bowed deeply, ignored Maxwell, and pulled a lovely white flower out of nowhere, offering it to Charlie with a flourish.

Charlie took it and tucked it behind her ear where her lost carnation had been. "Thank you!" she said.

Winona came over, looped an arm around Wes's waist, and said, "This is Wes. We're…uh…friends," she said meaningfully, bouncing an eyebrow at her sister.

Charlie looked between them, saw the way Wes looked down at Winona, and gasped. "Oh! It's nice to meet you, Wes!" She stuck out a hand.

Wes shook it happily. Then he looked at Maxwell and pursed his lips.

It occurred to Allena that Wes had suffered some of the worst direct treatment from Maxwell, after Allena. After all, he'd trapped Wes in a clockwork prison for months after tearing him away from Wolfgang. She wondered how he would react to the man.

To her shock, and likely the shock of everyone else present…he thrust out a hand.

Maxwell looked down at it blankly. Then, slowly, he reached out and shook it. The movement was stiff and unnatural, but it was a handshake.

Wes pumped it once, twice, then let go and nodded shortly to him. He turned around and went to see if Wilson needed anything.

They all watched him walk by, then Wolfgang sighed. "Eh. If Wes can let go of grudge, Wolfgang can too…for a while," he finished with a warning glare at Maxwell. "But any trickery from tricky man, and Wolfgang will pound into little blob on ground."

Maxwell grimaced. "Fair enough, I suppose. Now, I don't suppose we can—"

They all whipped towards the machine as it started up with a loud whir of power. Wilson stood up, brushed off his hands, and said, "Bingo! It should be powered up in…what would you say, Maxwell, twenty minutes?"

He sniffed. "Closer to thirty. Still…"

He stepped forward and examined the device with an appraising eye. "Not bad, Higgsbury. I suppose I put my faith in the right man after all."

Wilson scowled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Maxwell raised a brow at him. "What, you don't think I brought you here for your stunning good looks, do you?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I brought you here in the hopes that you might be able to find me a way home. And now you have! Hooray!"

Wilson flushed red, rolled up a sleeve, and growled, "Why, I ought to…"

Just then the lump that was bulging out of his shirt wiggled. A tiny, furry head poked up out of his collar and yawned. Amazingly, his puppy hadn't been hiding – it had fallen asleep for all of that and was only just now waking up.

It forced its way up a bit more, turned, and licked Wilson's chin. He looked very silly standing there with a raised and clenched fist and a puppy going wild in his shirt.

Webber gasped. "Puppy?!"

Wilson sighed, pulled the tiny Varg out, and held it out to Webber. "Puppy," he said glumly, as though disappointed that he wouldn't be having a fist fight with Maxwell. The moment had been ruined.

Allena heard more barking coming from just behind her, and a new hum to compliment that of the machine. She turned to see Glommer and Chester waiting for attention, and she felt a surge of warmth at the sight of her pets.

She started loving on both of them. "Hey, you two! I missed you. How's my Chester boy doin', huh? How's my Glommer?"

They both seemed to be in excellent health, and she made a mental note to thank Webber personally. He'd been in charge of all the pets. Gerald, too, came over to get in on some of the fun, and she fetched a rock out of her pocket and held it out to him. He took it with a grateful rumble.

"PRIMARY SUBJECT, WILLIAM CARTER, LOCATED. NEW OBJECTIVE – EXTRACT FROM THE CONSTANT, TRANSPORT TO WAGSTAFF."

They all turned to look at WX-78, who had just come up from the base with a massive backpack full of stuff. "Oh, yeah," Winona said. "Good news. WX-78 has been smelting us all Thulecite armor since yesterday. It doesn't look like we'll need it, but it's still nice to have. Who's Wagstaff?"

WX-78 dumped the armor unceremoniously on the ground. "MY CREATOR. THAT IS ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW." With that he walked over to Maxwell.

Maxwell looked down on the android with moderate disdain. "Ah, lovely. The android. Did you say Wagstaff sent you?"

"AFFIRMATIVE. PLEASE STANDBY FOR TRANSPORTATION." Then he turned to Wilson and said, "STATE APPROXIMATE TIME UNTIL GATEWAY IS READY FOR USE."

Wilson wrinkled his nose. "Uhh…twenty-seven more minutes? Give or take?"

WX-78 sighed. "VERY WELL. WEAK-MINDED HUMAN ESTIMATION: TWENTY-SEVEN MINUTES TO COMPLETION OF NEW PRIMARY OBJECTIVE."

He pulled out his two Thulecite pickaxes and stood close enough to Maxwell to make the man hiss in discomfort. "Will you get away, you repugnant thing?"

Charlie chided him, "Maxwell! That's not nice." She smiled at WX-78. "Pleased to meet you, WX-78."

The android turned to look at her. He seemed to process how best to respond for several moments, then just said, "…AFFIRMATIVE."

Winona rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's WX-78. I guess he's been trying to find Maxwell for like ten years. We found him wondering around the ruins and brought him up with us."

"Why?" Maxwell asked in exasperation.

Allena said, "Well, we couldn't just leave him down there."

"Again, _why?"_

Charlie slapped him lightly on the chest. "Oh, Maxy, don't be such a grouch."

Wilson had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from braying with laughter, and Winona turned away and bit her hand. Wes chortled silently and Warly grinned into his palm. Wolfgang was the only one to laugh outright. "Ah! Maxy! Is very funny, because he used to be so scary. Now he is not scary! He is just Maxy!"

Maxwell shot Wolfgang a murderous look, so Allena decided to hastily change the subject. "Uh, hey, Maxwell – what was that giant monster down in the Epilogue?"

Maxwell's expression darkened, and everyone became more attentive. "Giant monster?" Winona said, maybe a bit nervously. "What monster? And is it comin' to pay us a visit? Not that we couldn't manage, I mean, even grandma's got herself some armor now…"

Ms. Wickerbottom have Winona a sharp look, and Maxwell shook his head. "No. It would take far too much power for it to transport that form. As to what it is, that is…difficult to explain."

Allena shrugged. "Portal needs another twenty-some odd minutes. I've got time for a story. What was it?"

Maxwell looked around to see them all staring at him attentively. He sighed. "Very well. That beast…"

He held up his hands, narrowed his eyes, muttered a short incantation under his breath, and with a flourish conjured an image of the colossus in the air before them. Webber gasped in awe.

"…was the Ancient Fuelweaver."

The being in the image was easier to see than the one down there in the darkness. It was a being of shadow and bone and crimson light. It had thick, short-ish legs, a long spine and bulging ribcage, arms long enough to drag the ground when it walked, and huge, curling horns branching out to either side of its head. Its skull appeared to be shattered into four main pieces, and out of the three largest gaps shone orbs of crimson light. The red glow was the same sort she'd seen in the dimensional shift, not unlike the veins of light. That same red light shone out of parts of its horns and ribs looking almost like patches of glowing crystalline growth.

It was taller than the skeleton alone should have decreed, because the bones were spaced out a fair bit, and seemed almost warped with growth. Thick, black shadow filled the spaces between them, transparent and solid at the same time. They could see the bones clearly suspended in the void, but otherwise it was solid black – not like the shadow-creatures, whom they could see through.

Maxwell began by saying, "I've learned more of this world's history in the last few weeks than I did in all the previous decades combined. As I very recently discovered, this was likely because the Shadow had intended to dispose of me. But that is beside the point…"

He said this with a quick glance at Allena. She did not respond, but she now couldn't help but wonder how long the Shadow had had its eye on her before making that offer down in the mansion. She began fiddling absentmindedly with her Magiluminesence.

Maxwell cleared his throat and began the story. "The Weavers were the ruling beings of this planet. Of all the races that called it home, it was the Weavers that presided over the civilization that spanned this globe. They were the wisest, oldest, and most powerful members of society, both in body and mind. They grew to the largest proportions, their brains were titanic, and they could weave spells as easily as you or I weave rope. They were nearly godlike by human standards."

"The downfall of the ancients was the result of overuse of Nightmare Fuel – the physically manifested power of the entity that came to infest this world. In their infinite wisdom, the Weavers had long since banned the use of Nightmare Fuel. However, members of the lower caste were envious of the strength of the Weavers, and tried to harness the power of the Shadow to overthrow them. They set up their cities in the deep caverns below while the Weavers ruled the surface and the upper caves, ignorant of the work of the discontented mages."

He took a long breath. "I will not bore you with the details. Suffice to say, the Shadow, nourished by a steady diet of worship and suffering, overtook the lower caves entirely, then flooded the surface with perfect efficiency. The Weavers and their people were utterly unprepared for the Shadow's assault. They mounted defenses, but it was all for naught."

He sighed. "The Weavers fought valiantly, but one by one were overcome. The oldest, most powerful Weaver was the only one that was able to defy the Shadow for any length of time."

His eyes flashed and he seemed to almost smile as he contemplated it. "Oh, the Shadow spoke of that one with such disdain! That, of course, means that the being truly irked it. The shadows fell before its spells and claws like wheat before the scythe. It wasn't until the Shadow took on its true form that the last Weaver was met in strength. Do not ask me what its true form was in the beginning. I do not know. I only know what it became."

"From what the Shadow told me, the battle went on for days – the Weaver's natural magics versus the Shadow's dark ones. They seemed evenly matched, but it was on the seventh day of fighting that the Weaver made its fatal mistake. You see," he said. "It believed itself on the brink of death. Unbeknownst to it, the Shadow was even closer to oblivion. But the Shadow played its hand well. It did as the Shadow does…and it tempted the being."

Now Maxwell's lip twitched up in disgust. "The Weaver, in a final bid for victory, turned to the power of the shadows. It used the Nightmare Fuel, thinking that the Shadow might be felled by its own power turned against it. The instant it attempted to use the Fuel, the Weaver was lost."

Allena's heart dropped. As Maxwell told the story, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for this being – this Weaver – fighting to save its planet, the ruins of which they now strove to escape from.

"How?" Wilson asked anxiously. "How was the Weaver destroyed by simply using the Nightmare Fuel?"

"It was not destroyed; but by taking the Fuel inside itself to weave it into a spell, the Weaver allowed the Shadow inside itself, body and soul. It was consumed."

"But don't you need to strike a deal with the Shadow for it to possess you?" Wilson asked curiously. "Or is it enough to simply use the Nightmare Fuel?"

Maxwell's lip curled contemptuously at Wilson's question, and the man flushed slightly. Maxwell shook his head. "It did not _possess_ the Weaver. It _consumed_ the Weaver. It devoured the Weaver from within, fusing with its soul and turning it into what it is today." His eyes narrowed. "The Fuelweaver."

Allena frowned. "Wortox said that that thing is the Shadow's true form. But is that true? Was that thing we saw the Weaver, or the Shadow?"

"Both. There is no difference between them now," Maxwell replied. "The Shadow is something of a hive-mind, with a central intelligence which commands, for the most part, the legion of lesser shadows – the crawling horrors and the terrorbeaks and such – that it has birthed through the processing of its victims. With the consumption of the Weaver, that central intelligence became one with it. You are what you eat, in laymen's terms." He began scraping some dirt out from under his fingernails. "Normally its primary form lies dormant, as it prefers to possess others, but—"

Wilson interrupted. "I saw that thing's fossil in the yard of the mansion." He'd been examining the bones within the image closely. "It was on the side yard, on a great stone plinth."

"Yes," Maxwell said dryly, obviously not happy with the second interruption. "It does enjoy showing the Weaver's skeleton off from time to time. Like mounting a particularly fine trophy on one's wall…and occasionally making use of it."

He turned to look in the direction of the Houndius Shootius, and Allena felt a swoop of sick anger. A trophy. The last defender of a dying world reduced to a trophy on a plinth.

A question occurred to her. "Hey, if the mages in the lower caves all served the Shadow, why did they have information on how to make things to combat the Shadow? Like the Magiluminescence? Why would the Shadow's own servants want to prevent themselves from being possessed by it? Why would the Shadow allow that?"

Maxwell shrugged. "Perhaps there were some who worked to resist the Shadow. Perhaps the upper caste of worshipers delegated direct possession to the lower caste, and made the anti-possession necklaces with the Shadow's grace. Who knows?"

_Pop!_

Maxwell jumped, and the image of the Fuelweaver dissipated. Everyone else jumped slightly, too.

"Hello, friends. Forgive me for being late."

Charlie yelped and shrunk away, and Maxwell stepped between then, moving towards the newest arrival threateningly.

Wortox bleated. He didn't look very happy, but he took a moment to acknowledge the group's two new additions. "O-o-oh my. Forgive me, too, for startling you."

Charlie peeked out from behind Maxwell, and Wilson chuckled. "Not at all, my good imp. Ah, Charlie, this is our friend Wortox. It's alright, he's really quite the pleasant fellow."

Wortox wiggled his nose and offered Charlie a small smile.

She stepped out to look at him. "Oh, pardon me," she said. "You just gave me a fright. Maxy was telling a story, and I guess it had me a little spooked. Pleased to meet you."

Wortox's ears twitched. "Likewise, though you will not be so pleased when you hear my tidings. Friends, kindly tell me that the Gateway will be up and running within the next five minutes?"

WX-78's voice sounded from right behind Maxwell, causing him to start and clap his hands to his ears. "GATEWAY FUNCTIONALITY, T-MINUS NINETEEN MINUTES. APPROXIMATELY."

Wortox's ears twitched. "Oh, dear. That is not good."

"Why?" Winona asked. "What's up?"

Wortox looked at them all, and said, "A great power gathers below. I sense it will be but a few more minutes before it will be capable of manifesting up here. It will be here before your portal is ready to take you away. In other words," he said, and nodded to WX-78…

WX-78 picked up on the cue.

"PREPARE FOR COMBAT?"

Wortox nodded. "Prepare for combat."

* * *

Allena blinked as everyone but her, Wilson, Maxwell, and Charlie scattered and ran for weapons and armor. "What?" Allena said. "There's no way…Maxwell?"

Maxwell had paled. "It would take an extraordinary amount of energy for it to transport its physical form out of the Epilogue. It put it there in the first place because the Epilogue is a fortress for the Shadow, a way to ensure it cannot be reached by any being powerful enough to defeat it. The reason so few people can get in at a time is because it specifically created the place to prevent an invasion. Nothing of significant power can enter. But by the same token, it cannot get out…unless it leaves a great deal of its power behind."

"How much?" Wilson prompted.

Maxwell's eyes became unfocused and grim. "Not enough," was his simple reply.

Wilson's eyes darted back and forth for a few moments in frantic thought, then he scowled. "Fine, then. We've dealt with the Dragonfly, the Deerclops, and everything else you've thrown at us. I for one will be happy to see this fiend slain as well."

Maxwell looked unimpressed. "You're welcome to try. In fact, if you could delay it for the last ten minutes it will take to get the Gateway up and running, Charlie and I would be greatly appreciative."

Allena asked, "Is it really that strong?"

Maxwell snapped a harsh look at her, but after a moment the gaze softened. "Yes, m'dear. It is. And you would do well to stay out of its way and hope you have enough time to make it out."

Allena clenched her jaw and shook her head. She turned to Wilson and said, "Come on, let's suit up. You're up for one last battle, right?"

Wilson said, "So long as you promise not to pull anything like what you did with the Dragonfly."

"Alright, no more suicide strikes. If we go down, we go down together."

They went to fetch their armor.

Winona waved at them as they ran by. "Hey! We brought everything over here. Bases are basically stripped clean. Just had WX-78 get us the rest of it. WX-78, you mind helping them suit up?"

"AFFIRMATIVE. I NEED MY MEATLINGS BATTLE-READY IF I AM TO COMPLETE MY PRIMARY OBJECTIVE."

"That's the spirit, friend," Warly said as the android fetched a few suits of armor out of the pile.

He brought them over and stuffed Wilson's into his arms. "I UPGRADED YOUR ARMOR WITH THULECITE. HERS AS WELL. EFFICIENCY INCREASED BY A CONSIDERABLE AMOUNT."

"What?" Wilson asked as he pulled on a pair of Thulecite greaves. "No exact calculation on the efficiency increase?"

"EFFICIENCY OF THE DEFENSES ARE DEPENDANT UPON THE EFFICIENCY OF THE MEATLING USING IT. USE IT CORRECTLY, AND IT WILL BE AT LEAST 70% MORE EFFICIENT."

Allena inspected her armor as she pulled it on but winced at the wound in her shoulder. It wasn't bad, but it hurt like sin.

WX-78 noticed it and said, "PLEASE STANDBY FOR MEDICAL CARE." Then he turned and shouted at Wortox, "MAGICAL HEALING IMP, YOUR ASSISTANCE IS REQUIRED. ONE OF THE MEATSACKS IS LEAKING."

"Pardon me," Maxwell said. "But if we're dishing out medical treatment, I wouldn't mind some as well." He turned and showed off the numerous scratches on his back, and Charlie looked down with a sorrowful, almost ashamed look.

Wortox hopped right over and inspected Allena's shoulder. "Owie!"

He gestured for Maxwell to come over. Then he pulled out a soul, tossed it up into the air, and with a flash of light Allena's shoulder felt considerably better. Maxwell blinked, reached back, and touched his tattered shirt. He looked at least mildly impressed.

"Thanks, Wortox. Oh, by the way, how did your errand for the Treeguards go?" Allena asked. Maxwell raised an eyebrow.

"Happy to help, and it went well, well, well, thank you." Wortox said. "Now…off to prepare!"

He pulled out another soul and Hopped away.

Well, not much information to be gleaned there, but his mission seemed to have been successful. She was glad. She finished suiting up, and as she did she looked at the sky. Black clouds had appeared, and were beginning to converge. Unless she was mistaken, the eye of that storm fell right in the middle of their peninsula.

Strangely, she didn't feel afraid. A bit nervous maybe, like she did the hours preceding a piano recital or play, but fear…? No.

Where was the fear? Gone, she thought.

Maybe it was absent because, with victory so close at hand, failure didn't even seem possible. Maybe it was because they were as well-prepared as it was possible to be with their new myriad of weapons and armor. Maybe it was because she didn't yet know exactly what the Shadow had in store for them.

Or maybe it was because, regardless of the portal set to take her back to the life she'd known, she already had just about everything of importance to her right here. Wortox, Warly, Webber, Wickerbottom, Winona, Wilson. Glommer, Chester, Gerald. Even Charlie and Maxwell, as odd as it was to think it. She had everyone. She'd won.

If they all got home on top of it? Well, that would just be icing on the cake. Only the loss of her friends could be a source of fear for her now…and she wasn't about to let that happen. Or if she did, at least she would be going right alongside them.

She smiled as she saw that someone had taken the time to fetch her boomerangs, or maybe carve her new ones. She thought they looked new, and figured she probably had Wolfgang to thank for them. She strapped them, a spear, a blowgun, her sword, and a pouch of darts to her armor, then turned to take in the others.

She stared at them nearly in awe. They looked like something right out of a movie – something with knights and dragons, heroes and villains, maybe something starring Chris Hemsworth.

Every one of them was clad in wooden and Thulecite armor, and WX-78 had made each set specifically for who would be wearing it. Wes, Wilson, and Winona, being evasive, close-quarters fighters, had smaller plates of metal that covered their vital regions as well as their arms, which would regularly be in the danger zones. Wolfgang, being a juggernaut, had been given thick, full-body plating that would protect him from serious damage. Webber, like Allena, was very agile, so his armor was like hers – more wood than metal, though his was a bit more fortified due to his greater muscle mass. Warly was intermediate, and had a pack of supplies as well as his obsidian spear – he'd likely be on triage and extraction again.

All of them had cushioned helms, and to Wilson's delight WX-78 had made his specifically to be compatible with his Thulecite crown. The android had just plain upgraded himself with the Thulecite and was covered in thick plates of the stuff.

Allena noticed that even Wickerbottom had a suit of armor, though hers was thin chainmail rather than plating, and it covered most of her body. Going by the boomerangs and bulging pouches of darts, Allena thought the woman would likely be sticking to ranged combat.

That gave Allena an idea. She asked Warly where the rest of their weapons and supplies were, and he pointed to several backpacks that were settled against some trees on the edge of the clearing. Lying against one of the trees just out of sight were all of their spare weapons and other long, ungainly, hard-to-carry items, like fishing poles and bug-catching nets. Among them was the item that Allena had been looking for – the Fire Staff.

She grabbed this and brought it to Wickerbottom. "Hey, Ms. Wickerbottom. Take this."

The woman eyed it warily. "Quite a lovely staff, my dear, but I don't know that it will be very effective in combat. Crystals aren't the most durable weapons, and it looks a bit unwieldy."

Allena explained, "It should shoot fire – twenty times if it's fully charged, but I don't know if it is. I picked it up secondhand."

Ms. Wickerbottom looked considerably more interested. "Well, I suppose I can give that a try. As much as I insist that I'm quite alright to be up on the front lines with you lot, dearest Warly won't hear of it. Insufferable man," she said with the air of a woman for whom such a complaint is perfunctory, but who doesn't really believe what she's saying. Allena got the feeling that she didn't mind being coddled a bit…if it was by Warly, at least.

Allena gave her a quick hug. "I'll be fine. You stay safe too, okay?"

The woman looked taken aback by the show of affection. "Hmph! I don't know why you're so fussy about me. All of you! I only just got here, after all."

Allena said, "Maybe, but we get attached pretty easily. You're already part of the family."

She turned towards the base, leaving Ms. Wickerbottom looking mystified.

Wilson was running back towards the Gateway. As he ran past Allena he paused and explained, "I think I'll have to stick the puppy in Chester. I'm leaving the pets right at the Gateway. We'll still be wanting to bring them along, I assume?"

"Yeah, of course," Allena said. They'd talked about that. Giant spiders, no. Loveable chest dogs and magical flying insects, yes. They still didn't know what to do with Gerald. The Gateway was big enough for him, but would he be safe in the modern world?

Wilson ran over, opened Chester up, stuck the puppy inside, and closed the lid. "You crack yourself open every few minutes so he doesn't suffocate, Chesterfield, but don't let him out."

Chester barked, but clapped his lid closed when the puppy tried to jump out. He whined a second affirmative.

Wilson scratched him between the horns. "Good boy, Chester. I'll be right back. You go ahead and hop through if you get the chance, okay, boy?"

Another whine, this one sad. Wilson patted Glommer and returned to Allena's side.

They were about to go, but they stopped to look back to where Charlie and Maxwell stood near the Gateway. They seemed to be arguing about something. Wilson scowled and called, "Coming, Maxwell? Or are you just going to hide over here and let us have all the fun?"

Maxwell scowled right back. "Enjoy getting yourself killed, Higgsbury. We'll be waiting for the Gateway to activate, thank you."

Charlie frowned at him. Her eyes were somber and dark.

Come to think of it, so was the sky. The black clouds had extended considerably, and were swirling around an obvious eye. The Fuelweaver would be there soon. There was no more time to argue or prepare, so they went out to stand before the base.

They would want to fight the Fuelweaver far from the Gateway while still leaving themselves close enough to get to it once it was powered. To that effect, they intended to fight about forty feet in front of the base, which was within the range of the Houndius Shootius. The catapult, which seemed to have been repaired and upgraded, had also been dragged over.

Wilson, who had been talking strategy with Winona and Warly, took point. "Wickerbottom will be on the catapult, yes? Who else will be with her?"

"No worries about that," Winona said. "WX-78 and I worked out a new design. Doesn't take two people to work anymore. If I'd had more time and some electricity I could have made it fully automatic, but this'll have to do. Oh, and it has an auto-load lever, too. Thirty boulders all stored up, thanks to Gerald."

Wilson looked at her incredulously. "The catapult, the Shootius, this armor – were you really able to accomplish all of this in the time we were gone?"

Warly fielded that question. "We figured that, since you two were taking the fight to the Shadow, we ought to do everything we could to cover your retreat if things went poorly. And now that time has come. So? Are we well prepared?"

Wilson looked around at them all. He was positively glowing with pride. "As well as any group of rag-tag survivors in a harsh and unforgiving world can be."

Warly nodded. "Then let us face this last foe, and however it turns out, let us end this day with no regrets, for we have fought well."

"Amen to that," Winona said.

Wes gave a thumbs up.

"Yes! We are good fighters!" Webber said excitedly.

"Very mighty," Wolfgang agreed. "Even little old lady is mighty in own way, Wolfgang thinks."

"I heard that, young man! And yes I am, thank you very much!"

"YOU WOULD NOT HAVE MANAGED SO WELL WITHOUT ME, MEATLINGS. BUT I MUST ADMIT, FOR A GROUP OF PATHETIC HUMANS, YOU HAVE PREPARED SOME ADEQUATE DEFENSES. LET US HOPE IT WILL BE SUFFICIENT."

They were all ready. Well, most of them, anyways. Most was enough.

Standing together beneath the gathering storm, they waited for the final battle.

A flash of black lightning rent the sky, and it began.


	64. The Final Battle

The Ancient Fuelweaver appeared before them in a flash of dark, silent light. It was just as it had appeared in Maxwell's projection…but a lot bigger.

It was hunched over, spine curved, curled fists on the ground like a great ape. Then it stood, and Allena couldn't help but swallow heavily.

It was at least forty feet tall – taller, even, than the Deerclops. Its crimson orbs gazed straight ahead, void of emotion, and a deep red light seemed to shine from its chest, a bit dim through the haze of void that surrounded it. She felt herself being engulfed in a dark, cold aura – not a presence so much as the absence of presence. A cavitation, a gap in reality which sought to draw in everything around it just to fill in the emptiness.

Allena, for one, expected a fearsome roar. A cry of anger or challenge. A shriek, a howl, a hiss at the very least.

Instead, it spoke.

_"My city…in tatters."_

It turned its titanic head and gazed around the plain.

_"My world…threadbare."_

It tilted its head down to look at them.

_"You…"_

Silence. Stillness. Then,

_"You will fall as we did."_

It raised one giant, clawed hand. Before it could swipe at them, however, a boulder flew out of the sky and crashed right into its face. A small burst of shadowy smoke flew out as the boulder crumbled to pieces and fell to the ground. It was instantly followed by a pulse of red light as the Houndius Shootius fired.

The Fuelweaver shook its head, then said, _"You cannot hurt me."_

As if in contradiction, another boulder flew out of the sky and bashed into its face, followed by another blast of light from the Shootius.

This time it did roar. The roar was strange, however. It was low, subdued, almost as though coming from a distance…or out of a deep crevice in the earth.

With no further ado, Wilson, Wolfgang, and WX-78 charged.

They ran at the Fuelweaver's legs and began slashing and hammering at its ankles. Small bursts of darkness came puffing out of it like vapor or splashing out of it like ink, sinking into the ground or dissipating into the air. The blows left no mark, however; every dent they made filled itself instantly.

The Fuelweaver looked down at them, reached up, grasped its skull behind its horns…and pulled its entire head off.

It wound up the blow, and Allena yelled, "Back! Get back!"

They didn't hesitate. The three of them flew backwards. Wilson and WX-78 made it – Wolfgang was clipped by the skull as it came rushing through the air, and it sent him reeling several feet.

The Fuelweaver replaced its head and reached for Wolfgang. As it did it said, _"I will save you."_

Wolfgang didn't seem to believe that any more than anyone else did. He scrambled backwards, away from the dark, questing hand, and Warly rushed over to help him up. Wilson and Wes ran forward to hack at the Fuelweaver's lowered arm while Webber, WX-78, and Winona ran forward to slash away at its legs again. All the while it was being periodically hit with boulders and lasers.

Allena decided to get in on some of the action, and pulled out her boomerang. She wound up and hurtled it at the Fuelweaver's face, and it sliced right through with a small burst of shadow.

The Fuelweaver hissed quietly and drew back its arm. It stood up straight, pulled its head off again, and wound up to swipe at those attacking its legs. This time, prepared, they were all able to get out of the way.

The Fuelweaver put its head back on, looked around at them all, breathed, _"It must be this way,"_ and raised one of its hands. They all backed up even further in anticipation of whatever attack it was preparing, but it didn't matter.

The Fuelweaver brought its hand down, and thick black shadows surged from the ground in an outward-expanding circle. As the shadow passed beneath Allena, bones erupted from the ground in a tight, circular prison.

The smooth, pale spires encased her in a close-knit, morbid cocoon, and she found herself barely able to move. Through small cracks in the cage she saw that everyone else had been encased as well. She heard Wilson call, "Allena!"

She called back to let him know she was okay, but it didn't do much good. She couldn't get out.

The Fuelweaver looked down at them all, and Allena felt the earth shaking slightly beneath her feet, though she couldn't tell what exactly was causing it. No more boulders were forthcoming, though another beam of light struck the fiend. It didn't seem to care. _"This will be quick."_

It took off its head again, wound up to hit as many of them as it could with one blow, and swung.

A giant, clawed wooden hand shot out and intercepted the blow.

The Treeguard had joined the battle.

The Fuelweaver gazed at the Treeguard and said, _"You will rip apart at the seams."_

It tugged its head back from the Treeguard, which lashed out with another claw and slashed at the Fuelweaver. This time a large amount of shadowy ink flew out and splattered across the ground. The massive wound did not remain open long, however, as the Fuelweaver excreted more void to fill the gaps.

This time, however, Allena noticed something. She had no time to voice it, but she was sure she saw it.

The Fuelweaver hissed in pain and pulled off its head again. It brought it down at the Treeguard, which took the full blow and was sent staggering backwards. It fell with a sound like thunder, and Allena felt a flash of fear for the arboreal giant.

The bones around her were crumbling, and as she shoved at them she saw that the others were breaking free, too. Another moment and they were all back to the fight.

Several of them ran up to continue slashing at the fiend's ankles, but Allena saw a hint of red out of the corner of her eye. It was Wortox.

She ran over to him and said, "Wortox! Is it just me, or is it losing shadow?"

Wortox looked at her closely. "Hmm? Come again?"

"Losing shadow!" She repeated. "With every hit it leaks a bit of shadow, like blood. The wounds patch themselves up, and it looks like we're not having an effect, but after the Treeguard's attack it looked like the shadows had to stretch further to patch up the wound. It almost seemed to draw away from around the bones. Can you watch it as we fight and tell us if it's losing shadow?"

Wortox seemed interested. He stared at the Fuelweaver for several seconds as though committing its appearance in that moment to memory, and he nodded. "I will, I will! Now, back into the fray!"

Allena nodded, and they both turned to the Fuelweaver. The group had just dodged another skull blow, and the two of them were able to run in right in its wake and start stabbing. Boulders resumed raining down at regular intervals. The Houndius Shootius continued its slow but powerful barrage. Not one attack missed. Wickerbottom was a good shot, and so was the Shootius.

Allena used her spear. She wouldn't use the shadow blade unless it was necessary – she didn't need any sort of excessive drain on her sanity right now. She hacked and stabbed with her simple weapon, and this time when the skull came down she ducked around behind the Fuelweaver to keep attacking it from the rear.

WX-78 and Winona joined her. "Are we doing any damage to this thing?" She cried in exasperation.

Allena said, "I can't tell for sure, but I think so! Wortox will keep an eye on it and tell us if it's getting weaker!"

The Fuelweaver turned back to look down at them and said, _"This is for the best."_

It raised both of its arms in a wide, sweeping gesture, and bright flares of red light flashed above them.

Allena looked up and saw jagged bone spears hovering above them all. She screamed, "Above you! Look out!"

Everyone looked up just in time to see the bones descending. Most of them dodged quickly enough…Wes did not.

He tried to jump backwards to avoid the projectile, but the bone shard flew down like a bolt of lightning and pierced his right leg as it extended, going all the way through. Allena saw his mouth open noiselessly and his face contort in agony.

He couldn't scream for help, but he got it anyways. Warly sprinted towards him, jerked the bone out of his leg, and dragged him away from the fight while the others set upon the Fuelweaver again.

Wortox ran over to help Wes, too, and the remainder of them – Allena, Wilson, Winona, Webber, and WX-78 – spread out evenly to resume the assault. Now when it tried to swipe them with its head, it could only target one or two at a time, leaving the rest of them free to wail on it.

Allena saw the Treeguard stand up, and felt an absurd rush of relief. The giant had saved them before, and it was fighting for them now. Like Maxwell, it was an enemy turned ally.

_"You will not suffer."_

The Fuelweaver lifted a hand again and she heard Wilson shout, "Bone prison!"

They all ran as far back as possible, but it still wasn't far enough. As the Ancient Fuelweaver's hand crashed down and sent shadows coursing through the earth, bones erupted from the ground once more.

The bones before had lasted less than a minute before crumbling. They needed the Fuelweaver distracted until that happened again. Allena yelled, "Wortox! Tell the Treeguard to strike once, then fall back!"

Wortox warbled out a high call in his odd, magical tongue. The Treeguard, which had been standing back to nurse its injuries, surged forward with remarkable agility and swiped at the Fuelweaver just as it removed its head for a blow.

The Fuelweaver staggered, roared, and flung its head towards the Treeguard.

The Treeguard, however, had done as Wortox had commanded and stepped back after the single hit. All it lost was a bushel of pine needles.

The bones crumbled. They set in on their enemy again.

It went like this for a while. Hack and slash, dodge its attacks, keep an eye on the sky for bones. Boulders and deerclops lasers barraged it every twenty seconds or so, though the boulders would likely be running out soon. When the Fuelweaver did its bone prison attack a few minutes later, the Treeguard had already gotten it down. It distracted the Fuelweaver so the bones could crumble.

After her latest prison was gone, Allena ran around and went towards Wortox. As she did she saw that Wes was on his feet again running easily towards the fight, and he grinned fiercely and gave her a high-five as they swapped out. Wortox had healed him.

"Wortox," she panted. She was getting low on breath. "Is it working? Are we…hurting it?"

Wortox looked her in the eye and nodded. "It is weakening. See for yourself."

She turned and took in the Fuelweaver as another boulder flew out and hit it in the face. Sure enough, the shadowy substance that made up its body seemed diminished. It didn't cling to the bones as tightly, and the red glow within it that had been so dimmed by the darkness seemed brighter.

She felt a surge of hope. They were having an effect on it.

She ran forward and yelled, "Keep it up! The Fuelweaver is getting weaker!"

At this the Ancient's head jerked abruptly in her direction, and it moaned, _"I will not be defeated so easily. Let the Fuel take shape!"_

It hunched over, and the party retreated. What attack was it going to conjure up this time?

It began thrashing its head back and forth, and Allena's eyes widened. Bursts of shadow were flying from its back in flame-like bursts and vanishing. What was it doing, shedding shadow? What was going on?

Then she saw something else. Darkness, like little geysers of ink, was bubbling up all around the clearing where its black blood had been shed. Small bones began jutting out of the void, which coalesced around them until they formed…

Wolfgang shrieked and jumped up in the air as a skeletal tick-like creature the size of a small dog wrenched itself out of the ground at his feet. It was coated in shadow the same way the Weaver's skeleton was. They all stepped away from the creatures, expecting them to attack, but they did not. Instead they just began scuttling, crawling, and dragging themselves forward. Towards the Fuelweaver.

The Fuelweaver was still crouched, watching the little shadows it had woven crawl towards it. Its eyes glowed more brightly.

Wortox's eyes widened, and he bellowed, "Kill the shadows! Do not let them reach the Weaver!"

The Fuelweaver rumbled in displeasure.

They all ran forward and started bashing the little things, Allena included. As she stabbed one with a spear, she noticed that it wasn't exactly a tick or a spider. Unless she was mistaken, it looked like a hand. A large, skeletal hand.

She bashed another one and saw that it looked like a skull, dragging itself forward with its two long canine teeth. What in the world were these things?

She figured it out quickly enough. They weren't able to get all of them, and as the shadows got near enough the Fuelweaver reached out, grasped them, and shoved them greedily into its mouth.

Its body pulsed with shadow, and the darkness within it thickened. The woven shadows were its own dark blood.

Wortox yelled again, "Kill the shadows when it weaves them! They will heal it if they reach it!"

Allena saw Wilson's lip twitch up in disgust as the Fuelweaver shuddered in satisfaction. "Is that so? Well, no matter. Let us regain our lost progress!"

He ran forward to slash at its face where it stood hunched over, but was thrown backwards as a black sphere manifested around it. It was only there for a split second, while Wilson struck at it, but there was no doubt – the Ancient Fuelweaver had a shield.

Allena pulled out her boomerang and threw it, but it too bounced off. "It's protected!" She called, and the others took a few steps back.

The Ancient Fuelweaver stood again and said, _"Let us end it."_

It stepped forward to resume the attack, and now they were all on the defensive.

They ran and dodged as the Fuelweaver chased them slowly but unrelentingly around the field. Allena asked Wortox, "What do we do? How do we get that shield down?"

Wortox looked deeply worried. "I do not know. I feel something…smell something…something different about the battlefield, but I do not know what. I am not familiar enough with the Shadow to know all of its tricks."

Allena turned to watch her friends flee. Warly was nearly crushed as the Fuelweaver brought its head down in a chopping strike, and Wolfgang was once again dealt a glancing blow as it swept the skull to the side before replacing it. It no longer seemed irked with its foes. On the contrary, it seemed quite relaxed.

This couldn't keep going on. There was nothing else for it. She could only think of one thing that might turn the tides again; Allena drew the shadow sword.

Her ears rang, and the world flickered briefly grey. She blinked that away, grateful for the Magiluminescence still around her neck. She charged the Fuelweaver, which was facing away from her, and swung at the shield.

The sword bounced off like every other weapon. It was just as useless.

She ground her teeth and tried again, then again. Nothing. She swung again. Nada. Once more. Goose eggs.

She turned away and clutched her head, but she wasn't about to let that madness overtake her. She couldn't afford to go insane.

Then she heard a call, and turned to see Maxwell and Charlie standing beside Wortox, talking. Her eye twitched. Shouldn't they have been gone? Surely the Gateway would be…

She groaned and stumbled away as the world flickered grey again. She shut her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw Maxwell running over to her.

He gripped her shoulder and said, "We must all flee! The Shadow has erected its greatest defense, and – what is that you have there?"

He was looking at the shadow sword, and she grunted, "Shadow sword."

Maxwell shook his head. "Lovely. Leave that behind when you go. The Gateway is working! We must all retreat!"

The Fuelweaver ceased its lumbering assault. It turned and looked down at Maxwell, who paled.

It had heard him.

 _"…A pity,"_ it said.

It turned towards the Northwood, wherein the Gateway thrummed with power, and started walking towards it.

* * *

Everyone felt a jolt of panic as they realized the Ancient Fuelweaver's goal. They all started sprinting as fast as they could to get to the Gateway. They were faster than the Fuelweaver. They could make it.

Unless they couldn't move.

The Fuelweaver bashed its fist against the ground again, and bone prisons shot up all around them. Allena heard Wolfgang roar in frustration, and they all started beating desperately at their cages.

The Fuelweaver sped up. _"This is for the best,"_ it said again.

To their dismay, it stepped on the catapult as it passed by, crushing it, but it may have been out of boulders already anyways. As it drew near the Northwood, the outer pines impeding its progress, it waved a hand and all the trees shriveled up and shed their needles. It brushed them aside easily.

The bones crumbled, and they all rushed towards the Gateway in a stampede. They could still make it. They could. They could.

The Fuelweaver reached the clearing just as they did. The Gateway stood thirty feet away. A dead sprint. A dead, thirty-foot sprint for life and limb. They could do it.

Gerald stood in front of the Gateway, which had activated to reveal a swirling tunnel of black and white. Chester and Glommer huddled behind him. Chester looked terrified, though Glommer – as per usual – looked 100% unconcerned with the world around him.

As Gerald saw the Fuelweaver, he took a step back. Then, seeing Allena as she ran around the Weaver's foot, he got an angry glint in his eye. It was not unlike the time she'd been attacked by the Depth Worm.

He charged the Fuelweaver.

It was a horrible mistake.

They rushed past Gerald, and Allena screamed, "No! Come on! Come with us!" She couldn't leave him to be killed by the Shadow.

But he didn't listen. He trundled full speed at the Fuelweaver, lifting a claw and swinging it full force at the shield.

The blow had no effect, but his presence did. The Fuelweaver, quick as a child scooping up a critter on the ground, reached down and grabbed Gerald in one massive fist. It swung its arm back…and hurtled Gerald at the Gateway.

The rock lobster bashed into it the instant before Maxwell, who was leading the stampede with Charlie at his side, reached it. The swirling black and white tunnel vanished as the Gateway crumpled, flashes of energy and crackles of light flaring as all their work and all their hopes for escape were annihilated in an instant.

Maxwell had frozen, one hand stretched towards the Gateway, and as the smoke began billowing up from the ruined mess, the hand dropped.

They all stood, staring at the remains of the portal. Behind them, the Fuelweaver had stopped as well.

They turned back to it, and it seemed to sigh in satisfaction. _"They are unfathomable. They are coming. It cannot be stopped."_

It spread its hands out to either side and began lifting them in a beckoning gesture. It wasn't immediately clear what was happening. All that was clear was that they now had only one option:

Kill the Ancient Fuelweaver.

Pushing down her fear for Gerald, whom she'd lost sight of in the smoke, she looked to Wilson, and he to her. They nodded once to each other, their expressions both scared and determined, and charged the beast. The others hesitated only for a second before joining them.

The Fuelweaver pulled off its head and wound up to swing at them, but Wilson called, "Back to the clearing! I don't want to fight in this forest!"

They all followed him without question, dodging the Fuelweaver and heading out of the withered woods. As they emerged, they saw what effect the Shadow's beckoning gesture had had.

The plain was littered was crawling, scrabbling, woven shadows. They'd bubbled up where their foe's dark blood had been shed, and were now making their way northward, towards it. That was a big no-no.

They ran through the crowd as the Fuelweaver came lumbering after them, and started crushing the shadows into the ground, shattering their bones and dispersing the void they carried. By the time the Fuelweaver reemerged, all of its snacks were gone.

It rumbled its displeasure. _"Return them to me!"_

"I don't think so, bub!" Winona called. Wes joined in, glaring up at the Fuelweaver and making an obscene hand gesture at it.

They used the lead they had on the Fuelweaver to their advantage, staying ahead of it while periodically throwing things at it to see if its shield had fallen. It hadn't.

Allena ran up to Maxwell, who was standing well back with his arms wrapped around a pale and frightened Charlie. As Allena approached, he snarled, "I knew I should have left you lot and gone through the portal! Now we are _doomed."_

He was glaring at her with something like fury, but she didn't have time for it. "Maxwell, how do we get that shield down? We can't do anything to it!"

Maxwell scowled and shook his head. "I do not know. It's only ever mentioned this defense in the most basic terms, calling it the 'Shadow Shield,' an unbreakable bulwark held aloft by hands unseen."

"Hands unseen?" She repeated. What was that supposed to…

An idea clicked in her head. "Have you ever seen that parallel world it makes sometimes? The grey one?"

He sniffed. "I have. A dreadful place, and none too pleasant to gain access to. Why do you—"

An expression of dawning comprehension crossed his face, and he said, "Of course! Allena, give me your necklace!"

She went to pull off the Magiluminescence, but he shook his head. "No, no! The purple one!"

She pulled the violet necklace out of her pocket and handed it to him. He did something like what he'd done in the Epilogue, conjuring a book out of nowhere and opening it to a certain page. He focused on the spell and began to chant. A minute later there was a flash of darkness, and the necklace lay smoking on his palm.

He handed it back to her. "This will now enable you to access that dimensional shift at will. Just put it on, and you will see the Shadow's world. But be careful," he insisted. "The Shadow will have power over you there. If you feel its influence start to consume you, take the shadow amulet off and equip the Magiluminescence until you feel sane again. If we're right about this…"

She nodded. Charlie, who had been watching and listening intently, asked, "What? What if you're right?"

Maxwell smiled grimly. "Then we may have a chance – however slim – at defeating the Fuelweaver."

* * *

Allena stepped forward onto the field. The Fuelweaver was still chasing the others, but it was ignoring her. That was good. She would need all of her concentration for this.

She took off her Magiluminescence and immediately shuddered. The golden amulet had been warding off a really wretched aura, and she wondered how the others were managing without such protections.

Her shudder redoubled as she realized that things were about to get much worse. She lifted the shadow medallion – the violet eye glinted almost jocularly at her in its golden socket – and slipped it around her neck.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the world she knew vanished.

It wasn't like last time. She wasn't torn between two worlds – she was entirely submerged in the Shadow's. There was no overlap, no jilted 3-D image. Just grey and red and…

Hands.

Dark, nebulous hands stuck out from the ground in half a dozen places where the battle had begun – where the Fuelweaver had first conjured its shield. Each hand supported an exceptionally dark orb, and she thought she knew where the shadows the Weaver had shed had gone.

She could still see the others fighting the Fuelweaver, but as she watched it paused and groaned.

It turned towards her. _"Who are you?"_

She stared up at it, alarmed at having its full attention, then took a deep breath and yelled back, "No one! Just ignore me! Bye!"

And she ran towards the hands.

It didn't pursue her. It just watched her curiously as she neared the wavering limbs.

She got to the first of the unseen hands, pulled out her shadow sword, wound up, and swung.

It took no strength to fell the hand at all. It dissipated into nothingness the moment she struck at it with the intent of destroying it, almost as though it had been intimidated out of existence rather than destroyed.

With the destruction of the one hand, the Shadow Shield flickered briefly, a small crack appearing in it. The Fuelweaver groaned again, looked down, then turned its gaze back upon her.

She felt rage pulse through the air.

_"You've made your choice."_

She heard Wilson's voice, vaguely, but it was too garbled and distant to understand. She ignored it and ran to the next hand.

She swung and it disappeared, but she noticed something very unnerving. Shadows were gathering at the edge of her vision, and she felt a very strange sensation in the back of her mind.

It wasn't frightening or painful. In fact, it was almost…pleasant.

The Fuelweaver extended a finger towards her, pointing at her, singling her out, and when it spoke again its voice was deep, calming, and endearing.

_"Protect me."_

It…wanted help. It needed her help. But she had a job to do. She needed to…to…

She shook her head as she found herself in front of another hand. She looked at it for a few moments before recalling her goal. Destroy the hands. Lower the shield.

She destroyed the hand and turned to look for the next one, but the shadows were too thick. She couldn't quite see. And the Fuelweaver needed her help. She needed…to…

_…take the shadow amulet off and equip the Magiluminescence until you feel sane again. If you feel its influence start to consume you, take the shadow amulet off…_

She reached up with a trembling hand and removed the amulet just as the shadows lunged for the center of her vision.

They vanished in an instant, and the Fuelweaver groaned once more.

Her mind was throbbing. Her hands were clammy. She couldn't tell where she was or what she'd been about to do. She pulled out the Magiluminescence and put it on.

Her head cleared up instantly. She shadows had been trying to possess her.

She took several deep breaths, inclined to take a minute to get her head back on straight, but that wasn't an option. The Fuelweaver wasn't happy about her foray into the shadow dimension, and it was coming for her now. She needed to move…she just hoped that one more trip was all it would take.

She swapped necklaces and the world went grey. The Fuelweaver didn't sound happy. Shadows crowded in on the corner of her vision again as she struck down another hand and headed for the next.

_"I must do this, for your sake."_

It sounded…sad. Desperate, almost, as though begging her to understand. This wasn't the Shadow she knew. This was something else. Or perhaps something more.

_…with the consumption of the Weaver, that central intelligence became one with it…_

Was there something left of the Weaver within that hulking being? Was there another will at work besides the Shadow's?

She shook her head, ignoring the voice. Whatever this thing was, it was more demon than not now. It needed to die.

She found herself in front of the final hand. Not bothering with the sword this time, she simply waved her own hand through it as though it were a cloud of gnats, and it dissipated.

She heard a subaudible _crack_ as the shield fell. The Fuelweaver was vulnerable again.

She tore off the Shadow Medallion and put on the Magiluminescence, turning to take in the Fuelweaver just in time to see its great head being swept at her.

She had no time to dodge. It hit her full on.

She went flying, hitting the ground fifteen feet away. The world became a mad blur of color as the momentum log-rolled her, and she vaguely recalled that, when she and her sister would go over to their best friends' house as children, they would all take turns rolling down their backyard hill in a big, empty barrel. Allena had always hated the sensation. Why had she lined up to do it again and again?

 _Because the others thought it was fun,_ she thought wildly. _So I had to, too. Otherwise I wouldn't have been one of them._

She rolled to a stop. The world was skewed, tilted, swirling and strange. She couldn't tell up from down, and all she could hear was ringing.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Everything was fuzzy and out of focus, and she was very, very tired. Maybe she would just…lay there. Lay there and wait for Wilson to take care of it. Wilson always took care of everything, after all.

She was closing her eyes, intent on a nap, when she was jerked up into a sitting position. She winced as her head started clanging painfully, and she noticed an exceptionally sharp pain in her neck, surrounded by a general ache that extended halfway down her back. It hurt. She needed a rest. Who was…?

She opened her eyes. It was Maxwell. Maxwell had entered the battlefield, and he was looking up at something behind her with wide, horrified eyes.

She turned back to see that the Fuelweaver had pursued her, and was aiming to finish what it had started. Maxwell was trying to drag her out of the way.

He was…trying to help her? But…why? Why wasn't he…?

She grabbed onto him and forced herself to her feet. She couldn't just lay there.

She thought he would try to pull her away, but there was no time for that. Instead he grabbed her and shoved her forward, between the Shadow's legs, and the massive skull swept by, missing them both by the skin of their teeth.

Maxwell was yelling something, and after a few seconds the ringing in her ears deepened and she found herself able to hear him. "…out of here! Where is Wortox? She needs healing!"

"Go!" She heard Wilson yell, and suddenly she was in his arms being dragged around as the Fuelweaver turned to get her in its sight again. "Go back to Charlie, we'll finish this!"

Maxwell shook his head, and to Allena's dull surprise he grabbed the shadow sword out of her sheath and held it up like a fencer's blade. "For too long I've let the Shadow do as it will, Higgsbury. You have your woman to fight for…I have mine."

The two men locked eyes – the scientist and the magician. Mortal enemies suddenly bound by a common cause.

Wilson's mouth twitched up in a smile, and he nodded to Maxwell. Maxwell dipped his head in reply, whirled around, and gave a mighty slash at the Fuelweaver's left ankle.

It jerked its foot up in reply and stumbled back a bit. As Allena was dragged away from the battle, she saw the rest of the group surge forward, their vigor renewed by the falling of the shield. Wes and Winona stood side by side, whirling their spears expertly and taking gouts of void with every swing. Warly was aiming blow after blow with his obsidian spear, which was beginning to glow orange with the fevered heat of battle. Webber was stabbing his foe wildly, lacking in skill but making up for it with the boundless energy of his youth. Wolfgang was practically roaring as he bashed the Fuelweaver again and again, hammer flying back and forth and spilling globs of black blood with each swing, and even Wickerbottom was playing her part, unloading dart after dart into the Fuelweaver's great barrel of a chest.

Wilson dragged her away. "Allena, are you alright?" His voice was stunningly calm.

She forced her lips to move. "M'okay…head's…off."

"Wortox will help you. Just give him a moment."

Sure enough, the crimson imp skipped over to her. He pulled out a soul and cast it up into the air, and with a flash of light Allena felt immeasurably better.

"Ahh…thanks, Wortox!" She said, dusting herself off and grabbing her spear.

"Happy to help, but kindly do not get hit again! That was my last soul!"

She looked at Wilson. "Uh, oh."

Wilson nodded, face grim. "Uh, oh, indeed. We'll need to be careful from here on out. If one of us goes down, we're out of the fight. But until then…"

Nothing else needed to be said. The three of them charged right back in.

They fought as hard as they'd ever fought in their lives, and they fought smart, too. The Fuelweaver used his bone prison every few minutes, but the Treeguard was always there to help them. They were now able to anticipate its bone barrage, and none of them were even nearly hit again. They got it back in range of the Houndius Shootius, so that was doing damage every hit, and Ms. Wickerbottom decided to give the Fire Staff a try when she ran out of darts. Five bursts of flame later, the Fuelweaver's shadowy outer skin was slagging off of it in sick, smoldering sheets, dropping to the ground like hot tar. Once the Fire Staff was exhausted, she switched to boomerangs and used them to greater effect than Allena ever could have.

Maxwell fought like the demon that once possessed him. Allena had taken to the blade quite naturally, but it was clear at a glance that Maxwell had trained himself in the use of such blades, and years of training will beat out natural skill any day of the week. Every blow was short, powerful, and efficient. Not a single movement was wasted, and his body looked to be almost perfectly relaxed all the way up to his right arm, which struck with serpentine grace and speed.

 _He's fighting for Charlie,_ Allena thought. _He's fighting for Charlie, just like Wilson is fighting for me, and me for him. Like Wes is fighting for Winona, and like Wolfgang is for Wes, and maybe like all of us are fighting for each other._

Webber was having a joyful time. He wasn't the least bit scared. He seemed almost as incapable of it as WX-78, who was keeping a close watch on Maxwell to make sure the man wasn't injured. _Protect primary target,_ indeed.

The Fuelweaver roared and hunched over. _"Lend me your power, one last time!"_

Shadows began flying from its back, but Allena was now savvy to its tricks. Before it had even finished, she'd swapped the Shadow Medallion on and was running around to tackle the hands.

She got two of them before the shadows had even begun to crowd her vision; two more by the time the woven shadows popped up to begin making their way to the Fuelweaver (not that they were getting very far before being stomped on by the group); and she'd finished off the last two hands just before the shadows could reach the center of her sight.

She swapped the necklaces. The shadows vanished. Her mind cleared.

They were winning.

She was tired. She took a few steps back to catch her breath, and Maxwell ran back as well to stand beside her. He was pale and panting heavily. "The void…the shadows that…encase it…they are…diminishing," he finished.

Allena nodded. "They are. I think we just about have it." She paused for a quick breath. "...You're exhausted, and this thing might get mean when it's on its last legs. Head back to Charlie, and leave the rest to us. Okay?"

Maxwell scowled and opened his mouth for a retort, but Allena laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. You've been stuck to a chair for nearly a hundred years. You were amazing, but you can only do so much. We don't want you to get yourself killed."

Maxwell closed his mouth, then opened it again. "'We'?" He huffed, still out of breath. "Who might that encompass...my dear? Because somehow, I doubt that most of them...would care much were I to be crushed."

"I would," Allena said firmly. "And so would Charlie." She thought about it for a second, then she added, "Also, it would break poor WX-78's heart. You don't want to do that, do you?"

Maxwell spat in disgust and she laughed heartily. At the sound, the Fuelweaver gave a mighty and terrible roar.

_"Curse Their name! It cannot end like this!"_

Maxwell looked at her questioningly one last time, and she shoved him back towards where Charlie stood near the Northwood's edge.

She thought she saw gratitude flash in his eyes. He handed her the shadow sword, then he took off.

She looked up at the Fuelweaver, which was holding its head (attached) and shaking it furiously. The crimson glow in its chest was nearly blinding compared to what it had been at the beginning, and unless she was much mistaken the entire Fuelweaver had shrunk considerably. It couldn't have been thirty-five feet at that point.

The shadows; all the void that had leaked out of it could no longer support the massively expanded body. Soon the skeleton would be the only thing left.

She gripped the sword and ran forward once more. The Fuelweaver was now groaning almost continuously, though it seemed to contain as much pain as anger, now. Maybe more.

They kept whittling it down.

It was attacking them almost aimlessly, flinging its head back and forth with increasingly failing accuracy, and before long it had shrunk even further. Webber's spear broke, but such was his battle-fervor that he just let out a long, high, oddly musical-sounding battle-trill and began thrusting his clawed hands into the Fuelweaver and tearing out globs of void by the handful.

Warly's spear was red-hot now and was searing and sizzling the Fuelweaver with every blow. Wickerbottom was dual wielding her boomerangs, throwing one while the other was still on the rebound, catching, throwing, catching without pause. WX-78 was attacking with the exact same systematic pattern that he'd been using from the beginning, and he had not differed in his blows in the slightest.

Wolfgang looked to be tiring a bit, and was no longer roaring, but was merely letting out short grunts of air with every hammering blow. Wes shot him a broad smile, and Wolfgang grinned broadly, wiped his brow, and redoubled his efforts. "Almost…there," he heaved.

"At's the spirit," Winona said breathlessly. Her face was pink with exertion, her hair was flying out of her bandana, but her eyes were as hot and wild as the flames of the forges she loved. She and Wes were attacking in perfect unison – rightward slash, downward-left oblique, rightward, down-left, rightward, down-left, step back for a quick breath. Resume.

Wortox was using his halberd, and seemed to be enjoying his own combat method – winding up a big, overly powerful swing, and letting fly with all the force he could muster, spinning himself around in three or four consecutive hits before shaking himself off and winding up for another go.

And now the Fuelweaver was slowing down. It was barely the size of the Deerclops, and it shrunk yet more with every blow. The shadows between its bones seemed to stretch and cling to them, and there was no doubt that it was thinner than it had been.

At last, it raised its head for a blow…and its arm dropped. It replaced its head and let its arms fall to its side, their knuckles resting against the ground. It was no longer moving. They still were, though. They weren't about to let up.

It was now as much bone as shadow, and it looked around at them all as they worked tirelessly and furiously towards its demise. Finally, when Wilson swung his spear and hit bone instead of shadow, the Fuelweaver spasmed.

They all shivered as the air was charged with static. The stepped back, far back, unsure of what the Shadow was going to do.

The Fuelweaver looked around at them all, and Allena was struck with a terrible sense of sadness. There was no doubt in her mind that the being that stood before her was, to some degree, still the Weaver that had once yearned only for the Shadow's destruction, just as William Carter had always existed beneath the vile façade that was Maxwell.

Again, it spoke. _"You are not Them…who are you?"_

Wilson looked around at the others. Winona was staring at the Fuelweaver with real curiosity, and she wasn't the only one. They'd all recognized that they were in the presence of something utterly alien.

They did not answer it, though. There was nothing to say.

It kept staring. Then,

_"How we've fallen. How long have I slumbered?"_

Maxwell had rejoined them, Charlie at his side. She was staring at the Fuelweaver with something akin to pity. Allena could understand that; how long had Charlie been under the Shadow's rule herself?

_"I was wrong. This world's fabric is frayed and torn."_

The Ancient Fuelweaver seemed to let out a long, tired sigh. Then, without warning, it reared up and began tearing at its own chest. It raised its head to the sky and screamed,

_"RELEASE ME, SHADE! RELEASE ME! RELEASE ME! RELEA—"_

The shadows around the skeleton of the Ancient Weaver shuddered, contracted, and started to bubble and seethe as though they were frantically trying to hold the Weaver's bones together. The glaring red ball in the center of its chest—

 _A soul?_ Allena thought wildly. _Is that it's soul?_

—swelled, and with a bright flash of light expanded outward, forcing the Shadow away and enveloping its bones. The skeleton rattled and flew apart, collapsing into a massive pile…

But the Shadow wasn't done.

It swirled around, a nebulous, flapping manta ray. As soon as it had been cast off of the skeleton, its power had washed over the clearing. Whatever influence the Weaver's form had exerted upon it, it now existed only as the Shadow, and its wrath pierced each of them _to the bone._

Hatred. Pure, undiluted hatred. Rage so absolute it burned white behind all of their eyes and turned their blood to fire. Deeper, beneath the rage and hatred, seethed a clinging, black hunger and need. A lust for suffering, for pain, for the scream of a lover left bereft, the cry of a child in the night, the despondent silence of perfect despair.

And further below the hunger…fear.

It feared them.

A quote flashed into Allena's mind, a line from a book she had long since read and forgotten. The quote said as such:

_Fear is fertile, its child is rage,_   
_and rage cries for revenge._

Allena suddenly became acutely aware of the shadowy blade in her hands. The blade that had saved their lives in the caves, that had allowed her to fend off the shadows with ease. The blade that had carried her safely out of the mansion down below, had aided her in so many other pursuits since she'd found it. It pulsed with dark power. Potent power.

 _Its_ power.

The Shadow surged towards her, enveloped her, and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote about fear is from Stephen King's IT ;)


	65. Shadow Fading

_Her 'friends' were all around her. Mewling, grubbing, bleating things they were._

_Allena blinked open her eyes and looked up. **That** one was just in front of her. The black-haired one. Wilson._

_As she stared into his concerned face, his expression grew cautious and he stepped back. Good. If he tried to touch her, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from ripping his hands off. Wouldn't that be fun? Watching the scientist muck about for a while without his hands? No more writing, no more tinkering. Too bad!_

_The very thought brought a laugh bubbling up from her gut. It warbled out of her throat like swamp gas burbling up from a thick, muddy bog. It made them all draw back._

_"Allena?" one of them asked. The Handywoman. Winona. "You okay?"_

_Allena turned to look at her, silently considering how best to halt the bitch's cocky streak. She'd spent so much time seeking out her sister. Perhaps stringing her up by the girl's entrails would do the trick? Or would that be too fast? Yes, too fast. The grief would fade too quickly to be really satisfying._

_And Webber, the Indigestible. Simple enough – first she would pluck off his little arms, then slaughter – nay, **enslave** his feeble arachnidian mother. Perhaps drive it to devour some of the others. The extras, the ones whom she sensed would provide the least nourishment._

_The Strongman. Wolfgang. There was something wrong with him. So stoic, so boring. Fearful, yes, but his friends had instilled in him a stomach-churning courage of some sort. He would have to go._

_The Soulless Automaton, WX-78, was staring at her. "HIGH LEVELS OF DARK ENERGY DETECTED. PREPARE FOR COMBAT."_

_Combat? How quaint. Would they really bring their weapons to bear against her?_

_Warly, the Culinarian, stepped forward. "Combat? Do not be silly. Whatever the Shadow has done to her, Allena will fight it off. Just give her time." He looked at her kindly, and she very, very much was tempted to reach down his throat and claw out his tongue at the base. Let the last taste to grace his the appendage be his own blood. "Allena? Are you in there? It's alright, we're all right here for you."_

_She felt a flare of anger. All right there for her? Fools. Ignorant fools. What did she need them for except to suffer, to feed her, to—_

_She shuddered. For a moment an image of hot, steaming beefalo stew popped into her head, all of them sitting around the fire, eating and telling stories and singing songs._

_How puerile._

_Wortox, the Soul Starved, stepped forward. His ears were laid back, and she felt a warm glow of satisfaction. This one would know her for what she was now. He would show her the proper fear, the proper respect. He would—_

_"Allena, my friend of friends, I know that you are yet alive within. Just as the Weaver dwelled inside the Fuel, so do you. Can you hear me? Do you know me?"_

_Satisfaction turned to bewilderment, but this was unpleasant so she embraced more anger. Petulant imp!_

_"Miss Allena Jones," said a strict and stringent voice. It was the Librarian, Wickerbottom. Dead once before, she would have to be put back in her grave soon. No one cared as little for the concept of death than the enlightened elderly. "You really must get ahold of yourself. You're starting to frighten your fiancée with that look of yours, I think."_

_Then the Silent One approached and started miming to her. She had no mind to spare for his meaningless gestures, and she only watched him blankly until his hands faltered. She smirked as gesticulation ceased, then snarled quietly as his hands came back together. His thumbs turned down and the tips pressed together while his fingers came up into arches and hooked, the nails resting lightly against each other. A simple shape, but one that she found infuriating, nonetheless. It was childish in the extreme._

_The image of a small paper note passed to her over a campfire in a distant, thorny forest long ago flitted briefly through her mind, but she quashed it. It held no significance to her, not anymore._

_Now another was coming up, and she gazed at this one with disdain. Carter. Maxwell. The Puppet Master, and his little whore behind him. They both simply watched her, curious. Allena sincerely hoped he was enjoying his freedom. When she was done with the others, she thought she might make him and Wilson compete for the honor of taking on the Throne. She would need someone to do it, after all, and if he thought himself done with the task…well, there were ways to make him see his error. Alternatives._

_"Allena," a firm, calming voice said, and once more she nearly lashed out. He was speaking to her again. The Gentleman Scientist._

_"Allena," he said, and took her face. Her lip twitched up in revulsion and her skin crawled and she wanted to…to…_

_"Allena," he said for the third time, and her spine curved inwards as he said her name so casually, as though he had any right to address her in such a way. "My love. We won. Do you understand? We won."_

_Won? WON? The filthy little worm thinks he's won! Oh, how hilarious! How delightful! How droll!_

_Of course, it was not true humor coursing through her. There was nothing remotely funny about this situation. The man needed to be taught a lesson._

_She would pluck out his eyes._

_She smiled and reached towards his face, but as she did so she saw something disconcerting. A glint of green and gold shone before her. A ring._

_A promise._

_The image of that ring sliding onto her finger surfaced, and she shoved it away with brutal satisfaction. But then, almost as quickly, another image bubbled up – the man himself, kneeling before her in supplication, and he asks her if she will be his, forever, if she will marry him—_

_Bah! What are these memories? Gaudy pictures from a B-roll movie! Nothing! They are nothing!_

_Yet more and more are coming up, surging to the surface like the pus in a fresh crop of acne, begging to be examined, picked at, expelled._

_A sun setting on the paper peninsula on which they stood, her man beside her._

_Revolting!_

_A black figure dashing through a field of wildflowers, loudly humming an off-key song about honey jars and owls._

_Repugnant!_

_A white-faced man sitting upon nothing, sipping a cup of nothing, reading nothing, doing nothing, HE IS NOTHING, NONE OF THEM ARE, THEY ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS—_

Yes they are.

_No, no they are not!_

Wes? Webber? Yes, they're my friends. They're my best friends.

_Filth and refuse! Fuel for our needs!_

And Wolfgang and Winona and Warly and—

_SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!_

Wickerbottom and Wortox and WX-78—

_A soulless freak! No affection for you! None! Why would you—_

And who else? Charlie? Maxwell?

_Hah! Maxwell! Your friend! He is your enemy. Come, let us peel off his skin in strips, see how many intestines we can remove before his frail old body gives out—_

We? You? You aren't me. Who are you? Where did you come from?

_SILENCE! BE SILENT! BE QUIET! STOP IT! JUST LET ME—_

I don't hate Maxwell. I actually kind of like him. I'd really like to see him pull a rabbit out of a hat, I saw that some of the burrows have been dug back out, maybe I can catch one and whip him up a hat sometime. He could put on a magic show for all of us. Though we don't have the cards anymore, do we? So no card tricks, but that's alright.

_Shut up. Stop it. Stop…_

Wilson.

_He was standing right in front of her, watching her patiently. Her hand had come up, though she couldn't quite recall what she'd been about to do with it._

_Tear out his eyes! Make him suffer! Kill him!_

Kill him? Kill Wilson? She could never. She loved—

 _Suddenly, inside them, a seam erupted._  
Suddenly, inside them, a seam erupted.

 _It was a shard of light in an ocean of darkness, and it was burning hot._  
It was a shard of darkness in an ocean of light, and it was freezing cold.

 _It was her._  
It was It.

 _It was pain._  
It was nothing.

 _It was love._  
It was love.

_It was—_

* * *

Wilson stood, staring into the onyx eyes of his love, and he did not believe for one moment that she had been consumed. Because Wilson had seen the Shadow's true form, the thin, flapping thing that it was when it had no one to possess and no body to command, and he did not lend faith to the idea that it was in any way greater than Allena. His Allena. His sweet, kind, brave Allena. What was the Shadow's so-called power to that?

So he watched her, and he waited.

She raised a hand to his face, and still he waited. They all did. He got the sense that they would all wait forever if she needed such time, but she would not.

The clearing was quiet, but as they listened a quiet hum arose in the air. Wilson's eyes flickered away from Allena's, and he saw a honeybee that had just flung itself from their flowhive, the flowhive she had so bashfully shown him the schematics of in those early days. He'd been exhilarated by the idea of making it, thrilled by its simple efficiency, but above all delighted that she had been the one to present it to him. His smart, hesitant, clever Allena.

Another hum, a different hum, soon joined in, accompanied by a heavy, thudding hop. Chester and Glommer were making their way over, too.

Glommer buzzed up just a foot away from Allena's head, and Wilson saw her eye twitch. Chester hopped over and butted his head against her, lid popping up so he could pant. At once their newest companion, the unnamed puppy, hopped out and jumped up on Wilson's leg, pawing at him and barking excitedly.

A bird single bird began singing in the forest, a redbird by the sound of it. Within the minute a dozen more had started up, and the wood was once again loud with the songs of summer.

Still, Allena just stood there, frozen as if dead. But she was not. He still had a hand on her face, and he could feel the warmth and pulse beneath her skin.

Her eyes, which had been solid black and open for the last five, noiseless minutes, blinked, and he thought he saw something flash through them. It was fast, but he knew there was something in there besides the Shadow.

He waited for it to come out.

Slowly, he saw that it was a spark. A tiny fleck of white in the lower half of her left eye. He watched it closely as it enlarged. Soon the white, the iris, and the pupil were all visible, and Allena was looking back at him.

"Wilson?" She asked.

He smiled more deeply and leaned forward, brushing her nose with his own. "I'm here, my love."

"Wilson," she said again. "I…"

"It's alright. I'm right here. We all are."

A loud and ponderous thump reverberated through the clearing as the Treeguard took a wobbly step towards her. Then another. Then another. Soon it stood looking down at them. Allena kept staring straight ahead, left eye locked on Wilson while the other one stayed black and moveless.

Another guest joined them, and Wilson saw with genuine happiness that Gerald had survived the Fuelweaver's abuse of him. Though his shell appeared cracked and one of his legs was badly damaged, he limped slowly across the plain towards them.

He came up behind Allena and lifted a wobbly claw. It touched her head, squeezed very gently, and her nose twitched. She blinked a few more times. "Gerald? Is that you? Are you alright?"

"He's doing okay," Winona said. "Gotta say, I'm a bit miffed about the Gateway thing, but hey – it can be rebuilt, right?"

Wilson cheered at the very thought. "Why, yes, I daresay it can. What do you think, Allena? We'll rebuild the Gateway and go home. What will stop us now?"

Half of her face suddenly contorted in rage while the other half winced. Her hand clawed into his face, and he pulled back, just slightly. _"I will,"_ she rasped, and Wilson along with everyone else knew that they were at last addressing the Shadow.

Wilson's eyebrows both shot up. "Oh? Might I ask how?" He asked, genuinely curious. "You seem to have exhausted yourself. You don't even look able to control a single, mortal girl."

Allena's jaw moved again, roughly, as though her joints were rusted. "I…have her. I will not…let go."

Behind them, Wolfgang chuckled. "Allena is mightier than you. Come to think, so am I. So are we all. Even little Wickerbottom is mightier than you now!"

Wickerbottom sniffed and said, "Quite. Now then, Miss Jones, why don't you expel that vile demonic manifestation. We have an abundance of work to do, as well as a great deal to celebrate. Shall we get to it?"

"Yeah," Allena replied automatically, then her face clenched again. _"No!"_ She spat. It spat. "No! Why are you…why are you talking about me as though I am beaten?"

The Shadow's voice was quavering now. Its expression was desperate, horrified.

Wilson said, "Because you are. Good fiend, do you not know? All things must come to an end. I had not anticipated being yours, but it is funny how such things can happen so suddenly, is it not?"

Her mouth opened, and it croaked, "But…I am the Devourer…I am eternal…I…I…"

Maxwell stepped forward and leaned down. "You are finished, Shadow, and you brought it on yourself. After all, you summoned in your own demise, thinking your snacks couldn't fight back. And then, when we were on the cusp of being out of your hair, you felt the need to come out and confront us, oh-so sure in your power." He pouted mockingly. "Too bad."

Without warning, she lunged at Maxwell with a snarl, raking her claws across his throat.

Maxwell jerked back, eyes wide, hissing, hand going to his throat to find…

Nothing. There were barely even a few scratch marks.

The Shadow looked down at Allena's hand, clawed not with iron void but with small wedges of neatly clipped keratin, then screamed in miserable rage and began thrashing around, swinging frantically for everyone and anyone, and her arm flew out and smacked Glommer.

Wilson's hand shot out and grabbed the wrist, and Allena's head snapped towards him as she froze. Her face twisted up again and she lashed out with her other hand. It was caught mid-swing. She tried to jerk her hands back, but could not move.

Wilson leaned forward, and their noses almost touched. This time it was not the left eye he was looking into, the fearful but focused eye that Allena was gazing through, but the black one. He looked the Shadow in the eye and said, "You placed yourself in a body that is, in every way, less suited to your purposes than the one you last inhabited. Not only for sheer muscle mass, size, or speed, but also for one simple fact that you seemed to have neglected: The Weaver had lost everything already. He had nothing left to fight for when you took him. But Allena?"

Wilson's eye traveled around the group, and the Shadow's was forced to follow. One by one, each friend, love, and companion was reflected in that onyx orb, and when the tour was finished Allena's body was quaking with terror.

The eye turned back to Wilson, and he said, "She has everything in the world."

The Shadow froze within her. It shivered. Then, with no further ado, it erupted from her.

It almost seemed to claw its way out of her like a wounded bat, but bits and pieces were tearing off, burning away as they did. Finally, it extracted itself, reached for the air, beat its ragged black wings—

And was brought back down when Wolfgang heaved his heavy club at it.

It was squashed into the ground, amazingly mundane in its injured state. Its wings flapped and twitched, and Wes stepped forward to examine it. Then he nodded at Winona, and they both lifted their spears and shoved them into its wingtips.

It shuddered as it was pinned. Warly jammed his spear into it, and it twitched and steamed from the mild glow left over from the weapon's furious use. Each of them stepped up and put a weapon into it. Maxwell, having none, just spat on it and Charlie stomped it with a light _huff!_ of satisfaction.

Finally, there was just Wilson and Allena. She had been wavering, lids fluttering like the wings of a butterfly struggling to stay aloft, but at last she opened her eyes and took in the scene.

She looked down at the Shadow disbelievingly. "Is that it?"

Wilson laughed lightly. "Yes, my love, I think it is."

"That little thing? That's all it is?"

"Quite. Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?"

Allena looked down at it. She took Wilson's spear from where he'd driven it into the ground after she'd been possessed, and drew it across the few exposed bits the Shadow still boasted in the forest of weapons with which it had been impaled.

Wolfgang lifted his club, and beneath it pattered a frantically beating heart. At least, that's what it looked like.

Allena laid the tip of the spear against it. She felt no remorse for the being. No pity or sorrow. But…no satisfaction either.

She handed the spear to Wilson. "I think you'd enjoy it more than I would."

Wilson nodded thoughtfully, though he was silently gleeful. He really would.

He lifted the spear and thrust it down through the Shadow's beating heart.

The Shadow went rigid. Then, all at once, it collapsed.

It fell not into ink, but into dust. Dust as black as Warly's obsidian spear, if not blacker. It was as light as the finest powdered clay, and even as they watched it began to swirl and drift away.

The Shadow was dead.

Wilson nodded, bent down, picked up some of that dust, and let it run through his fingers. It was satisfying to watch it scatter in the summer breeze.

He turned to Wortox, who was looking at him with wide, amazed eyes. The imp said, "It is done."

Wilson nodded his agreement. The battle was done.

Life could begin again.

* * *

The Shadow was gone. Now it was time to rebuild.

Nearly everyone sustained at least a few scrapes and bruises, though of all of them the most badly damaged was Gerald. The impact with the Gateway (which still irked a few people, though they could hardly stay mad at Gerald given that he'd been trying to protect them) had done a number on his shell. It was badly cracked, and he had lost a fair bit of deep green, coppery blood. Upon seeing him in such a state, Wortox had promised to mend him up the moment he had a few souls to spare.

Wilson and Winona had gone over to the ruined Gateway almost as soon as Allena was able to walk, and they'd stared at it in silent ponderance for several minutes, rooted through some of the debris, then declared, in no uncertain terms, that it would be no problem at all to rebuild. It would just require a fair bit of elbow grease, which they had in abundance.

That night they had jerky rations and water then went to bed early. They were all exhausted. The following night, after Wortox had mended Gerald and a few of the men had gone out on an extensive hunting trip, they permitted themselves a celebratory feast; courtesy of Warly, Wes, and – surprisingly – Charlie, who was an excellent cook.

They all sat around the fire talking, complimenting the chefs, and discussing the plans for tomorrow and all the days after that. Maxwell, who hadn't said much since the Fuelweaver's demise, sat in a chair well removed from the fire, nibbling his dinner at Wilson's workbench.

Finally, during a lull in the conversation, Warly leaned over to catch Maxwell's eye and asked, "Maxwell, how are you enjoying the stew?"

Maxwell tensed as though startled, and he said shortly, "It's fine. Thank you."

Warly looked surprised. "Fine? Just fine? Why, that stew is a camp favorite! I must have done something wrong if it is merely 'fine'!"

Winona chuckled and said, "I know what the problem is. Best meals are the ones shared with friends. Clearly, you're sitting too far away to get the full effect of our companionship, Maxy! Come on, scooch a little closer!"

Maxwell glared at her, but Charlie – who was sitting next to Winona – said, "Yeah, Maxy, come on! Here," she said, and moved over a little so there was room on the log she was sitting on. "Come sit with us. There's plenty of room. Please?"

Maxwell did not dare sneer or scowl at Charlie, merely pouted. "I'm quite fine where I am, Charlie m'dear."

Wes and Wolfgang looked at each other and got oddly shark-like grins on their faces. Allena watched with amusement as they got up, went over to Maxwell, hooked their arms under his shoulders and dragged him snarling and kicking out of the chair and over to Charlie's stump. Once he got in kicking range of her he went quietly enough, but the moment he was seated – Wes went back to grab his food and set it down on his lap – he bared his teeth at the two of them in a grimace of utter hostility. He was not a happy camper.

At least, he wasn't until Charlie wrapped an arm around him and leaned her head against his shoulder. At that point he sobered up and went back to sipping his stew.

"How's that, Maxwell?" Allena asked cheerfully.

"Ah, would you look at that, the stew tastes so much better now," he said in a voice as dry and cutting as a desert wind in December.

They all laughed, and he winced. But upon glancing down and seeing Charlie engaged in the mirth as well, his expression softened and he allowed his shoulders to drop somewhat. For the moment, he was at ease.

"So, Maxwell," Wilson said conversationally. "We've all talked about what we're going to be doing when we get back. I suppose it's your turn. How will you be living your new life in the twenty-first century?"

Charlie gasped. "What?" She said. "The twenty-first century? How long have we been gone?"

Winona winced. "Oh, jeez. Sorry, kiddo. I forgot to tell you. According to Allena over there, better than a hundred years have gone by since you and I vanished. Allena disappeared in…what was it again? Twenty-nineteen?"

Allena nodded. "Ought to be at least twenty-twenty by the time I get back. Maybe even later."

Charlie looked briefly dismayed, then she placed a shaky smile on her face and said, "Oh, well, that's a bit surprising, but I guess we'll managed somehow. What do you think, Maxy? Back to the old gig, or do you think we'll be able to find something new to do with our lives?"

He sighed heavily. "Oh, I don't know. As much as I've always loved magic, I daresay I've had enough of it for a lifetime or two. Or ten. I've acquired a few skills in my time here. I think I'll be able to find something to put my hands to. I'll keep us fed and housed, m'dear, don't you worry an ounce."

"Assuming another hundred years haven't gone by since I've been gone, you two will be able to stay with me until we can sort something else out," Allena added helpfully. "I have a pretty nice place in Foxcroft—"

"Dover," Maxwell finished. "Yes, I recall our first encounter. You know, I did feel rather dreadful about that, and I never got the chance to apologize. I hope you'll forgive me for my callous abuse of your goodwill, Miss Jones."

They all looked at him, shocked. Maxwell, apologizing?

Egad.

Allena, for one, was at a loss for words for a several seconds. At last she said, "It's alright. I can hardly complain now, anyways. And to be fair, I did what I came here to do, didn't I?"

Maxwell looked at her strangely. "Come again?"

"Well, deception aside, you asked me for help getting out of this place. Now look at us. We'll all be home in a month, thanks to you bringing me here."

"Ey, is true!" Wolfgang said in dawning comprehension. "Thanking you for bringing Allena here, Maxwell! Was good call, it seems! That said, I want apology, too."

Maxwell flushed slightly and said, "You? I saved your life in that train crash!"

"Eh, also sent many scary monsters after Wolfgang, and sent on wild goose-chase looking for Wes after you stole him. So? Apology?"

Maxwell opened his mouth, a petulant expression on his face, and Warly said, "Oui! And for me as well, please! After all, what did I do to merit this whole ordeal?"

Winona jumped in as well. "Yeah, and your Deerclops wrecked my camp! I want an apology!" Wes thumbed his chest right after she finished, the message clear. Soon half the circle was clamoring for apologies, and Maxwell's face was growing redder and redder by the moment.

Then, as he opened his mouth, seemingly ready to tell them exactly where they could stuff their apologies, Webber's voice piped up, almost lost in the bustle.

"I miss my mama and papa."

Maxwell flinched as though struck, and the group went dead silent. Webber was staring at the ex-villain, eyes wide, expression hard to read, and Maxwell paled.

He looked away.

After a few moments, he looked back to Webber and said, "It was monstrous of me to prey upon one as young and vulnerable as you were. My attempts to make up for it – finding an adequate surrogate mother for you, and keeping the darkness at bay while you grew – were wholly inadequate. I cannot make amends for all that I took from you, and I would not expect forgiveness from you in the slightest, but I am sorry, nonetheless…Webber. I am sorry."

Webber blinked a few times, then said, "It's okee."

Maxwell stared at him, uncomprehending. "Come again?"

"It's okee," Webber said. "I'm not mad. A little sad, still, maybe, but more happy than sad, 'cause I have Allena and Wilson and Winony and Wes and Wolfgang and Warly and everyone else. And Ms.  
Wickerbottom says she's gonna teach me to read, and when we get back I'll still have a big, happy family, so it'll be okey dokey there, too. So it's okee. I forgive you for tricking me."

Maxwell clamped his teeth down on his lip as though struggling to keep something in. A protest, maybe, or perhaps a statement of disbelief that he would be forgiven so easily for tearing a child away from his family and tossing him into the hell that was the Constant. But after a moment of staring into those white, shiny eyes, he relented. He nodded acceptance of the spider-boy's forgiveness, and his eyes dropped down to his bowl of stew.

Then he looked up and glared around the circle. "As for the rest of you, I'm offering a blanket apology for every miserable omen I've thrown at you since you arrived. Take it or leave it."

There were a few noises of disgust or protest, but Ms. Wickerbottom immediately said, "Taken. Trust me, when you're as old as I am you take what you can get with regard to apologies. From real con men like this fellow, they're rarer than hen's teeth."

That got Allena and the other girls laughing, and soon the rest of them were able to roll their eyes and accept it. One sentence didn't seem like quite enough to make amends for the Deerclops, Dragonfly, Varg, rains of toads, countless hounds, and heavens alone knew what else, but it was something.

They got to pestering Maxwell about his life before the Constant, and he grit his teeth in exasperation and filled them in on the basics. He'd wished to try his hand as a stage magician in London, believing he could make it big with half a chance, but he didn't find his lucky break in time to deal with the loans he'd taken out to get himself that far. Wes actually reached over and clapped him sympathetically on the back at this point – he really seemed to have something against loans and loansharks – and Maxwell permitted the extension of goodwill. Maybe he knew more about Wes's past than the rest of them did.

At any rate, he'd fled his debtors and gone to America, land of opportunity. He opted to say little about his time spent on the east coast, illuminating only that he'd come across his tome while traveling west to try his luck in San Francisco and meet with some family.

"Tome?" Allena asked, while Wilson prompted, "Family?" At the same time.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at both of them, then sighed and elaborated. "The Codex Umbra, the tome that I use to cast many of my spells. It was suffused with the Shadow's power. And yes, Higgsbury, even a monster such as myself once had a family. My brother, Jack, was quite ecstatic about me meeting the new additions on his side. Twin girls." His expression grew dour. "I never got the chance to meet them."

Stricken glances were exchanged all around as Maxwell brooded over this. Then he shook himself and went on.

"I ended up in the city by the bay and used the Codex to take it by storm. My first show was miniscule. By the second, my audience had tripled. By the third show, every seat had sold out, and I was ready to aim my sights towards higher venues. But first…I needed an assistant."

At this point Charlie jumped in. "I found his add in the paper, and I was through the roof! I'd always loved magic tricks, and I guess the idea of going up on stage made me a little nervous, but I figured it was worth a shot!" She gave a little shrug. "I hadn't had a lot of luck in Frisco until then, anyways."

Maxwell looked down at her. He was at least a foot taller than her, but for once he didn't give the impression of looming. "You were trying to get into the fashion business, weren't you?"

At this, Charlie stomped her feet with an angry little _humph!_ "All those snooty, backstabbing elites did everything they could to keep my out of the business."

Maxwell's eyes glittered warmly. "Only because they knew they had something to fear, m'dear. You looked like a veritable goddess in that gown of yours, the first night we performed, and that suit you made me…I'd never felt so dapper in my life."

Charlie blushed and looked down, smiling bashfully.

Winona nodded. "Yup. Quite the fashionista is my seestah," she said, then brayed with laughter as Charlie wrinkled her nose, tore off a chunk of bread, and threw it at her older sibling. Winona caught it in her mouth. Maxwell watched the whole thing with an expression caught between annoyance and amusement.

"Yes," he said. "Well, at any rate, after Charlie joined the act attendance skyrocketed. How many people were at that last show, hmm? Five? Six hundred?"

"Oh, at least," Charlie said, excited. "I still remember the date: April 18th. The best show of our lives. I wonder what the audience thought of our vanishing act?"

Allena paled. She knew that date. Winona had mentioned it before, that her sister had vanished in it, but was it possible…?

She felt that it was. What was more, going by some of the looks passing around the circle, some of the rest of them suspected it, too. April 18th – the day of the San Francisco earthquake. One of the greatest tragedies in American history.

No. That was too much. Far too much to heap on the pair. As Wickerbottom opened her mouth, no doubt to address it, Allena butted in. "So what happened? You vanished in your last act – then what?"

Maxwell had picked up on the crowd's dark mood shift, but Charlie, thankfully, had not. "Honestly," she said. "All I really remember was swirling black and white, then maybe ending up in some sort of forest, and then…" She frowned. Her brows creased. "It seemed to me that there was a voice. Not a very nice voice, either. It talked to me, tried to get me to…" She shook her head. "Oh, I don't know. It's all so jumbled. I have a strong impression of sleeping, maybe for a really, really long time, then waking up to Allena, tapping on that tank. Then sleeping again. Then my tank was taken up to the top of that mansion, there were those awful shadow-critters all around me, and…well, the rest you know."

Allena nodded, and so did everyone else. She and Wilson had shared the story the previous night with the jerky rations.

Wickerbottom still seemed inclined to interrupt, but Wilson cut in next. "And you, Maxwell? What led to your predicament?"

Maxwell scowled deeply. "I will not go into great detail. Suffice to say I was chosen for the Throne right off the bat. I woke in the Epilogue, aching, sore, and scared, and only accepted the Shadow's power once it told me it could help me find Charlie. The moment it had me it laughed and informed me that she was dead, and asked if I would care to see her mangled, mutilated corpse." At this his expression went stony. "I declined."

Allena's heart was pierced with terrible pity for the man, but that was assuaged by the sight of Charlie slipping a hand around his waist and him looking down at her, expression melting into something Allena had seen a handful of times before, on Wilson's face. That warmth.

 _That_ warmth.

He definitely loved her.

She and Wilson looked at each other and smiled. Maybe there would be two weddings when they got back.

They asked Maxwell more about his past, but he hardened and told them, in no uncertain terms, that he would not recount his hundred years of slavery. He was unamenable to this.

Allena finished up the evening telling Charlie all about the wonders of the modern world, and when they were finished, she took everyone's dishes in a big pile to the sink and began washing. Wilson normally helped her, but she insisted that he spend the rest of the evening planning out tomorrow's to-do lists, as he'd seemed wont to do earlier.

She expected Winona or Wolfgang to come over and offer to help, as one of them normally did when Wilson was busy, but instead she found Maxwell at her side, rolling up his sleeves. They'd gotten him some new clothing, and as he didn't care for beefalo leathers Allena had promised to make him something more suitable in the coming days. He grabbed a plate and washcloth.

He was tall and slightly gaunt, but his posture was superb as he stood at the washbasin, running the cloth over plates and bowls, and eventually he spoke without looking at her. His voice was low, and he clearly didn't want to be overheard. "You recognized the date Charlie mentioned. The date of our show. Why? What happened on that day, that a girl would know of it more than a century after its passing?"

She took the plate he'd been working on, rinsed it off, and set it aside to dry. "Nothing, Maxwell. Don't worry about it."

He snorted. "I'll find out about it eventually when we get back. It's not exactly hard to research events by their dates. So? What happened?"

She stared silently into the water, which grew increasingly murky with each utensil she rinsed. At last, as it seemed Maxwell was about to speak again, she said, "There was an earthquake the day of your show. It…was a bad one."

He stiffened slightly beside her. "How bad?"

"Eighty percent of the city was destroyed. More than three thousand people died. I don't think Charlie needs to know that, do you?"

_Crash!_

A plate had fallen from Maxwell's hand and shattered on the ground. He stood, rigid, his face frozen in an expressionless mask. The ceramic shards at his feet and the mad glint in his eyes were the only things to hint at the tempest raging inside him.

Everyone was looking over at them. Allena, not wanting them to butt in, said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Oh, don't worry about that. I'll get it."

She looked at him meaningfully, and his eye twitched. He said, equally loudly, "Ah, clumsy me. My apologies."

Allena grabbed the broom while he went back to washing. Everyone went back to what they were doing. No harm done.

When she finished sweeping up the dishes Maxwell said, "I've long known myself a murderer. How many people have died in the Constant thanks to me? But three thousand? _Three thousand?"_

His hand trembled, and the plate he was working on also fell. Allena was able to grab it discretely, which was good, because no one would fail to notice him breaking two dishes in a row. "Maxwell, it's not—"

"Do not tell me it was not my fault!" He hissed quietly. "What happened—"

"Was the Shadow's doing," she said forcefully. "It was the Shadow, Maxwell. You didn't know what would happen. You couldn't have known what would happen. And I refuse to let you hang yourself over an accident."

 _"Let_ me?" He said incredulously. "Let me hang myself _over an accident?_ There were _children_ in that audience, Miss Jones."

He was aiming for a dark edge, but his voice cracked on the third word of that last sentence. He set the latest dish down before he could drop it, put it hands on either side of the sink, and leaned over it. He looked very much like he wanted to drown himself in the murky dishwater.

She hesitated, considering how best to handle the situation. Then she put a hand on his back. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything you've been through. But please, don't hate yourself for the Shadow's crimes. You have the rest of your life ahead of you, free of its influence. You can be whatever you want to be. Please don't spend the rest of your life thinking that you're nothing more than the worst things you've done."

He turned to look down at her, and she saw in absolute shock that he was crying. Tears were streaming down his face in a silent flood, and his face was beginning to crimp up with the force of it.

They both heard a light buzzing. Maxwell, not willing to risk Charlie seeing him in such a state, did not turn around. Allena did.

Glommer had buzzed up behind them, and as she watched he came over and butted his head against Maxwell's back. Maxwell tensed.

Glommer butted him a few more times, and Maxwell turned back slightly to look down at the hovering blue bug-beast. He didn't speak. He just watched as Glommer pushed up against him like a dog bent on offering some kind of comfort to its owner.

He reached up, tentatively, and scratched him behind the wing-joints. Glommer buzzed happily, and Maxwell's expression relaxed. Slowly, the tears began to diminish, and after about five minutes he looked almost calm again. Then he looked back to Allena with a wretched gleam in his eyes and asked, "Can I ever truly be forgiven for my sins? Can I ever truly make up for them?"

Allena slipped an arm around him and gave him a quick, sideways hug. She was still a bit awkward about contact since their…debacle…in the Epilogue, but she wanted to offer some comfort. "I can't speak for anyone but myself…and maybe the others here...but we're willing to forgive you. Even if it takes a bit of time, we're willing. As for the rest, the dead can't forgive, but that's not what you need to worry about. You need to focus on forgiving yourself. Work on it," she encouraged, stepping back. "When we get back, just work on doing better. Improve someone's life, someone who isn't you."

She glanced back at Charlie, who was sitting next to the fire talking animatedly with Winona. The two kept stealing quick, almost girlish glances at Wes, who was playing pick-up-sticks with Webber and Ms. Wickerbottom.

Winona looked decidedly pink in the face. Maybe there would be three weddings when they got back.

Maxwell was staring at Charlie. "I don't deserve her," he said stiffly.

"Well, she deserves you," Allena said shortly. He looked surprised at the statement, and she clarified, "She loves you, Maxwell. She really does. And she'll need you once you get back. The modern world is a scary place. Build a place for her in it. Build a place for both of you. And work on forgiving yourself."

Finally, he nodded. They turned back to the sink and finished up the dishes.

* * *

They didn't work like dogs for the next month. It was too hot for that, and these was no need. They worked at a more leisurely pace – hard, but not like fiends.

They ate well every night thanks to Warly, Wes, and Charlie, and after a few weeks Maxwell put on a bit of weight; enough that he no longer looked like a Halloween decoration, at least. He went for long, brisk walks every morning, Charlie accompanying him, until he built up his stamina again.

Ms. Wickerbottom spent hours with Webber every day teaching him to read and write, and in the evenings he spent an hour or two with her teaching her how to weave silk into the lovely tapestries that he enjoyed making for his home. He went back to spend a few more days with his spider family at one point and returned with the full tapestry that Allena had seen unfinished in his den so many months ago. He'd added everyone in, and now the piece hung in the base, sheltered from dust and wind, and each one of them paused every day to inspect it and marvel at its pale complexity. It featured every single one of them standing in a clearing in a birch forest, Webber in front, Allena and Wilson just behind him like the parents in a portrait, all the rest of them branching out behind them. Even Glommer, Chester, the puppy, and Gerald featured in the final piece. And Maxwell and Charlie.

Wolfgang didn't make chairs for the pair. Instead he made a small bench, perfect for two people to sit side by side, decorated with birds and flowers and vines on one end – Winona had told him that Charlie loved gardening – and rabbits and top hats and playing cards on the other. Maxwell had left the expression of profuse gratitude to Charlie. He expressed his appreciation by sitting in it with her every day. Wolfgang was pleased.

They'd spent the first day salvaging usable pieces from the wreckage of the Gateway, which included all of the gems (thank goodness) and Thulecite. A majority of the living wood components had to be replaced, but they still had plenty left over. They managed.

Speaking of living wood, she still couldn't help but wonder exactly what Wortox had done for the Treeguards. She'd asked him several times and had even managed to peek inside the large bag that he'd toted around on his quest – it was full of pinecones, so maybe he was going to replant the Vargwood for them – but he wouldn't reveal anything concrete.

They finally discovered the answer to one mystery that had fallen between he cracks ages ago – what Wes had planned to do with the extra green gem and Thulecite they'd gotten in the ruins. He made Winona a stunning amulet with it, and when she opened the little wooden box he'd presented it in, he began miming out exactly what it was for. If they weren't mistaken, it was supposed to be a boon to builders. How, exactly, none of them could quite tell – it seemed Wes was a little foggy on the details, too – but it was just the sort of thing Winona could get behind. She put it on, inspected herself in Allena's signaling mirror, nodded appreciatively, then dragged a thrilled and jittery Wes out to the Northwood. Probably for a bit of 'alone time'.

WX-78 was annoyed at the delay in the completion of his objective, and Maxwell finally asked him, equally irritated or more, why it was so vital to get him back. WX-78 had responded,

"FULL OBJECTIVE: ENTER THE CONSTANT, GATHER INFORMATION THAT MAY BE OF STRATEGIC USE LATER ON, RESCUE WILLIAM CARTER, TRANSPORT TO WAGSTAFF, DELIVER ALL INFORMATION THAT MAY LEAD TO THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SHAD—"

He'd paused as he'd realized that his end goal had already been completed, rendering all the objectives in between obsolete.

Maxwell had smiled and asked cordially if that meant the android wouldn't need to dog him anymore. WX-78's reply, after some lengthy processing time, had been:

"PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: _STILL_ TRANSPORTING MAXWELL TO WAGSTAFF."

Maxwell had just hung his head in his hands while Charlie and Winona laughed hysterically.

It really made Allena happy to see the two sisters reunited. She'd never seen Winona so social, relaxed, and animated as when Charlie was around. It made her miss her own sister a whole lot more, and she was increasingly eager and scared to return. She wanted to see Linda again, and she prayed her sister would still be there.

Allena and Webber spent a lot of time tending to the pets, playing with them, training Gerald, and learning what Maxwell knew of them. Evidently, he'd created Chester to be his own companion, but had lost the eyebone one day and never found it again until he'd seen Allena with it. He'd suspected the Shadow had tossed it into the Tallfort upon realizing that Chester made Maxwell genuinely happy. Evidently, he'd managed to procure a particularly sweet and loving fragment of soul for Chester, something that was, as Wickerbottom was fond of saying, rarer than hen's teeth in the Constant. Most of the lingering souls were angry, envious, fearful, miserable, apathetic, or just plain hateful.

Charlie had taken a real interest in the Ancient Fuelweaver's remains – now just the Ancient Weaver with the departure of the Shadow. She gathered up all of its bones and spent a long while laying them out in the right order. Wilson, having an excellent grasp of anatomy, helped her with this on a few of the lazier afternoons while Maxwell sat writing in a journal, Wes, Webber and Wickerbottom sat around playing games, Wolfgang hung out carving little wooden trinkets, Winona sat carving parts of the Gateway or making molds for the few Thulecite pieces that needed replacing, WX-78 stood around polishing himself, and Wortox and Allena sat exchanging poems, riddles and rhymes.

"What did the carrot say to the wheat? Lettuce rest, I'm feeling beet!"

These kinds of days were always very pleasant.

Three big landmarks just so happened to coincide on the same day, almost a month after the Fuelweaver's defeat – one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and one that night. In the morning, Webber finally managed to pass his first reading and writing exam with flying colors, courtesy of Ms. Wickerbottom. He read them all a composition he had written for the exam, and it read as such:

"My name is Webber," he began, holding the piece of paper up right in front of his face. They were all sitting around the fire, and had turned their chairs to fully face him while her read. "I live in the Constant, but very soon I'll be moving to a town called Foxcroft-Dover. I live with all of my friends here in the Constant. They are my family. I don't have a normal family, but I love the family I have very, very much. We all work together to gather food, build the Gateway home, and take care of our pets. Our pets are named Glommer, Chester, Gerald, and Toga, and they are all very sweet. I love them, too. What I will miss most about the Constant when I leave is all of my spider-friends, and Mama Long-legs, and also my forest home. What I am looking forward to most when I get to Foxcroft-Dover is learning all about the new world, and getting to eat all of my old favorite foods, and getting to make all sorts of new friends. Thank you for listening, and thank you Ms. Wickerbottom for teaching me to read and to write."

He had then bowed, and they had all applauded loudly and raucously. Even Maxwell, with a nudge from Charlie, had clapped politely. Ms. Wickerbottom actually had to dab away a few tears, and Allena had wrapped him up in a great big hug and Wilson had clapped him on the back, genuinely proud of the boy's progress. The puppy - whom they'd decided to name Toga - had barked excitedly for ten minutes, then collapsed for a nap. 

The second thing that happened that day was that Charlie managed to finish reconstructing the Weaver's skeleton, piecing the bones together with a strong, gluey plaster that Winona had made for her. She'd asked Allena where a nice place to remake it might be, and Allena had shown her the little clearing near the Vargwood where she and Wilson had spent the evening together, and where he had proposed to her.

The trees here had escaped the worst of the fire, so there were still some patches of pines, and the clearing itself was still grassy and pleasant. Given that it was also sheltered from the wind by the cleft of cliff, they'd decided it was the best place to leave it.

The two spent the day reconstructing the skeleton, and once it was complete they gathered everyone together and brought them to the site. They'd agreed that, after its long abuse by the Shadow, the Weaver deserved to be laid to rest.

They all gathered in front of the remains of the Weaver, and even Maxwell had a respectful air about him. They all felt that this was important. Wilson looked to Allena, as she had taken it upon herself to carry out such rituals in the past, and Charlie nodded encouragingly to her.

Allena cleared her throat, feeling a bit awkward, and stepped up to the plate.

She looked up to the Weaver. Its small back legs rested almost daintily on the soft grass of the clearing, its slim hips supporting a large spine and huge, curving ribs. Its arms, long, thick, and powerful, supported the great bulk of its upper body, its claws curling backwards in a non-threatening position. Its head was held up, horns branching out proudly. In this posture it looked…peaceful. Peaceful and strong, as it must have in life.

She took a deep breath and began speaking.

"Here stand the remains of the Weaver, last of his kind. He lost his life, mind, and soul in defiance of the Shadow, in his final attempt to avenge his people and save his world. Though we were not there to witness it, it is said that he fought bravely and well, and if he lapsed at the end of his battle, then it was a forgivable lapse. We've all had them where the Shadow is concerned, I think."

Maxwell looked down at his feet and Charlie squeezed his hand. He looked to her, squeezed back, then held his head high again.

Allena smiled slightly. "We're here today to acknowledge the life and death of the Weaver, and to honor the efforts he made to spare his world from the Shadow. We hope that, with its defeat, he can find the peace he's long deserved. May he stand watch over this world as long as it stands. Amen."

"Amen," they all echoed.

Wes stepped up, a massive flower garland in his hands. Allena took one end of it, and with her help they managed to undo one end of it, wrap it around the Weaver's great neck, and retie it.

They all lingered for a little while, paying silent respect. Then they all departed to return to work.

The final accomplishment of the day took place just as the sun set. With the rescue of Charlie, they no longer needed to worry about getting caught out after dark, but even if they had it wouldn't have mattered that night. It was a full moon…and the moon rose on the completed Gateway.

It stood shiny, stable, and new, and they all came to look it over. There was a charge of excitement in the air, and even though it was growing late and the moon was coming up over the horizon, there wasn't a single person who thought they ought to wait until morning. They were done waiting.

They wanted to go home.

They'd already repacked everything and shipped it over to the hill base, and now they brought all that they intended to take with them along. Everyone had a bulging backpack of supplies, so the only things they would really be leaving behind was the infrastructure. And Wolfgang's chairs, much to everyone's dismay.

Wolfgang was totally unconcerned. "Eh, can make new chairs. Better chairs. Am looking forward to it." He grinned widely.

They set it charging, and by the time the moon was fully risen the portal flickered to life in a black and white blur.

Allena and Wilson stepped up to it, Chester and Gerald just behind them, and Allena turned back to check on Glommer. He wasn't there, and they all looked around to see that he was lingering back at the entrance to the clearing.

Allena held up the flower and called, "Glommer! Come on, bud. Aren't you coming with us?"

Glommer floated over to her, pressed his head against her chest…and drifted away again.

Allena felt a shard of loss pierce her chest as she realized that he wasn't coming. He wanted to stay in the Constant.

She and Wilson walked over to him. "Are…are you sure?" She asked.

He buzzed loudly again, bright black eyes glimmering in the light of the full moon.

She thought about explaining that there were full moons back home, and flowers and forests and everything he loved, but the words stuck in her throat. Although she'd cared for Glommer as though he were a pet, deep down she knew that he really wasn't. He was something different – something native to this world, and very much a part of it, frayed and ruined as it was. She'd known that, of course, from Maxwell. He'd said that Glommer had been around long before he had, maybe even before the Shadow. This world was his home.

He would stay here.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, and he hummed gently against her. The feeling of calm and contentment he always exuded washed over her, and she wanted to stay there hugging him for a while more. But then she felt Wilson's hand on her shoulder, and she knew it was time to let go.

She did, and Wilson patted Glommer as well. "Thank you for your company, Glommer."

"Yeah, thanks, bud. Sorry I thought about eating you when we first met," Winona said.

Wes gave him a big bug hug, too, and one by one they all said goodbye to him. Then Allena took out his flower and found a spot for it – a small, smooth, raised hollow in a broken stump. It wasn't his statue, and it wasn't anything glamorous, but it would do.

Glommer took a sip from it. He seemed happy.

They all turned back to the portal, but no one went through it. It felt, oddly, as though there was one more piece of unfinished business.

They discovered what this was when Wortox's ear twisted to the side, southward, and he turned his head. "Something is coming," he said.

Wilson glanced at him, surprised. "The Treeguard? I wouldn't mind saying farewell to that being, though I hope he'll keep his distance."

"No," Wortox said. "Not the Treeguard. Something…else."

His tone of voice suggested that, whatever it was, it wasn't something bad. It was just something. They waited.

Within the minute, it revealed itself.

A green glow seeped through the trees, and they saw a large, lumbering shape approaching them. Its form was just growing discernable, though they were all stricken with a sense of familiarity, even from a distance. What…?

It was the Weaver.

But…it wasn't.

The Weaver's skeleton was now coated in a thick, mossy outer skin, and it had regained the inner glow that they had seen in its Fuelweaver form. But it wasn't red this time. Instead, it was green. A light, soft, golden green, like the sunlight that filtered through the leaves of a birch forest in summer, when the leaves were a uniform jade color all throughout.

In its wake, life was blooming.

Plants – gentle, burling ferns, softly glowing bulb plants, and blue glow-berries – the kinds the depth worms used as lures – sprouted in a long, luminescent trail behind it. Even as it entered the clearing and paused, the pool of life was spreading. Dark, flourishing vines snaked their way up trunks, moss washed over dead wood like gently spreading water, and the ground became covered with a diversity of flora.

They all watched it, hearts drumming rapidly in their chests, and a soft flood of power washed over the clearing.

This was nothing like the Shadow's power. It was as warm and gentle as sunlight on the fields, but as vast and stern as the mountains that rose beside their home. It was vivacious and colorful, like the wings of the butterflies that fluttered rapidly between the spring flowers, drunk on spring nectar, but at the same time as calm and steady as a stream that has flowed over the same banks for a thousand years, shifting only slightly as the millennia wore on.

Charlie approached it. They all drew a bit nearer, drawn to the serenity the being seemed to emanate, but it was Charlie who drew face to face with it and reached out a hand. The flowers still hung about its neck, though it had grown from a mere garland into a magnificent mane of riotous color that trailed halfway down its back.

She reached out a hand, placing it on the side of its smooth, pale skull.

A warm breeze flowed from the Weaver as though it were letting out a long sigh, and Charlie's hair rustled in it gently. She shook her head and giggled slightly, and the Weaver's skull tilted slightly on its neck. It looked past Charlie to all the rest of them, and they felt curiosity wash over them.

Allena, mouth a bit dry, stepped forward. "Um. Hello, Weaver. I hope…I hope you're feeling better, now that the Shadow is gone and all."

The Weaver's curiosity did not abate, and she realized that it didn't understand her words. Perhaps it had been the Shadow's mind that had translated its thoughts to words they could understand while they had fought.

Unsure of how to communicate with it, she figured she would try the only other thing she could think of – focusing on how she felt, and hoping the Weaver understood.

She focused on her sympathy for him, and for his plight. She focused on her hope that the Shadow's destruction brought him peace. She focused on her respect for him, how she knew what it was like to have that darkness inside of you, how it felt to have everything you loved threatened by it.

Curiosity was at once replaced by understanding, and a moment later, gratitude. He heard her.

Wilson stepped forward and bowed. Allena told him and everyone else how she'd communicated with the being, and with a few shrugs and sideways glances, they all stayed silent.

Wilson stepped up first and directed his own communication towards the Weaver, one of respect similar to Allena's. He also expressed deep curiosity, and a desire to understand the Weaver's effortless grasp of magic from Maxwell's stories. The Weaver replied with a targeted surge of power, not a transfer of knowledge, but an infusion of real magic, the kind that came naturally to him and his ilk. Light flashed in front of Wilson's eyes, it made his hair stand on end, and he gasped with the sensation that penetrated him. _Real_ magic, not the cheap power the Shadow had left lying about.

He thought he had a far better grasp of it now.

He stepped back and Winona stepped forward. She wasn't exactly sure of what she ought to say, so she just sent a general bolt of appreciation to the big guy. She could respect someone who stood up to bullies, after all.

She received back a glow of respect, and she realized that he remembered her. He remembered them all, fighting the Shadow while it had been possessing him. Alright. Well, that was really somethin'.

Then it paused, directing its focus to something she possessed. Her necklace. The one Wes had given her.

She pulled it out of her shirt and held it out for his inspection. He peered at it, lifted a single, huge claw, and tapped on it.

A surge of bright, emerald light surged through it. Winona jumped slightly, looked down to inspect it, and saw with deep interest that whatever else the Weaver had done, the Thulecite had changed. Before, it had just had some broad, generic geometrical patterns like normal Thulecite. Now the patterns were miniscule, intricate, and covered the entire thing in a glimmering runic coating. How strange.

She touched the gem, which seemed warm to her, and at once her eyes went wide and unseeing as information flooded her mind.

He'd turned the gem into a repository of knowledge, just like the science stations.

In a heartbeat she understood that that was the real power of the gems and metals – the Weavers and their people had learned how to use the Thulecite's odd metallic geometry to store information, like Allena said modern scientists built complex little circuit boards to do the same. He'd given her a library in a gem.

A small library, granted. It wasn't the combined knowledge of their entire species or anything, but hey, it was something. It was really somethin'.

She didn't need to direct her awe and gratitude at him. She was putting it off so strongly he seemed to sense it, ambient in the air, and nodded his acceptance of her gratitude. She backed off to poke at the amulet some more.

Wes stepped forward. He didn't know what to convey any more than Winona had, so instead he reached into his little black leather pouch, the one that had lasted him all this time. He hadn't told anyone this, but since Maxwell had been freed from the Throne his balloon pouch was no longer refilling itself as it always had before. He was down to the very last one.

There were always more in the real world, though, so he blew it up, twisted it into a beefalo, tied it off with a silken string, and held it out to the Weaver with a general glow of cheerful goodwill.

The Weaver examined the balloon animal in befuddlement, then the air seemed to shiver with laughter. Wes got a sense from the Weaver what to do with the balloon, and he stepped forward and tied it onto the Ancient's right horn. It floated there, bouncy and jovial, as Wes stepped back away.

Wolfgang walked up next. He was not so good at the meditatey emotional things, so he scrunched up his face, went beet red as though he were trying to perhaps lay an egg, and flung out a bout of general respect for the Weaver's mighty stature and great strength.

The air once again rumbled with the Weaver's amusement, and it nodded deeply to Wolfgang, replying with similar admiration. He remembered well the power behind the club the man had wielded.

Wolfgang, satisfied, backed away.

WX-78 stepped forward and said, "GIVEN THAT I LACK A CAPACITY FOR EMOTIONS, I SUPPOSE THE WEAVER WILL JUST HAVE TO BE SATISFIED WITH – AP! AP! AP!"

The Weaver had regarded the android steadily for a few moments, then reached out and touched his head. WX-78 jerked a few times, then went still as the Weaver pulled his claw away. Then he regained his straight stature and said, "DATABANKS PURGED OF CORRUPTED FILES. DATABANK CAPACITY INCREASED. POWER RESERVES AT FULL. WOW!"

He turned back to the others. "KINDLY CONVEY MY APPRECIATION TO THE SKELETAL LIFEFORM ON MY BEHALF, MEATLINGS."

Ms. Wickerbottom stepped up now. She took a moment to translate WX-78's appreciation, as well as to explain, as briefly and accurately as she could, their circumstances and imminent departure. After all, the greatest gift she could relay to the Ancient was knowledge, was it not?

She was doused with a clear sense of surprise and gratitude. Surprise at her concision and mental clarity, and gratitude for the illumination on who they were and why they were there. It pondered how it might repay her, and, understanding that she was in the final stages of her life and subject therefore to the curses of aging, pressed for an idea as to how he might offer her some solace in her old age.

She felt his consciousness glide gently and inquisitively over her own, and rather found that she enjoyed the sensation. A most curious thing, this melding of minds. But there wasn't much he could do for her. She was simply looking forward to going home, finding a nice reading chair, picking up a book, maybe trying for an hour or two of sleep if her insomnia would allow—

She suddenly felt a bolt of energy, surgically precise, flow through her brain. Not her mind, her brain. She could feel it in there, clearing passageways, scrubbing neurons, and when it was gone…

She blinked her eyes heavily as mild exhaustion washed over her. For the first time in fifty years, she was not met with the wall of mental tension that she knew would prevent her from closing her eyes for more than a few minutes – an hour or two at the very most – at a time.

The Weaver had…cured her insomnia?

They regarded each other steadily for a moment, and then Ms. Wickerbottom allowed a very small floodgate of raw, unthinking emotion to flow through. She was very, very, _very_ grateful.

The Weaver rumbled subaudibly. He was happy to help.

Webber stepped up next, and he surely directed towards the Weaver as much curiosity as it had held for them.

Is it alive?

_Yes._

If it's alive, why's it a skeleton?

_…?_

Is it friendly?

_Yes?_

What is it going to do now that it is alive again?

_Remake the world as it was meant to be, discarding the false creations and—_

Not his spider friends and Spider-mama, though? Not them, right?

The Weaver expressed calm confusion at the barrage of questions Webber directed towards him, and regarded the last one carefully, noting the alarm. The spiders were not of this world, but if they were so dear to him…

Webber felt a bright flare of relief and happiness as the Weaver informed him that it would remake the world with a place for the spiders, and his Spider-mama would go on being safe and comfortable there. He ran up, hugged the Weaver full on the skull, and retreated back to stand with Allena.

Wortox stepped up next. He bowed deeply to the Weaver, whom he had sensed regaining his mind more and more with the group's mental stimulation - particularly with Wickerbottom's - and expressed deep respect and submission towards the being. After all, he, Wortox, was only an odd and perhaps somewhat sinister visitor in this old lord's world.

The Weaver expressed acute interest in Wortox's strange powers, their nature and their origin. Wortox, still deeply disturbed by his father's curse, relayed the requested information only reluctantly, hoping the Weaver would not judge him too harshly.

To Wortox's surprise, the Weaver did not. Instead, he stepped forward, leaned down, and touched his skull gently to Wortox's horns.

With a deep flare of power, he felt his father's curse falter and withdraw inside him. Not disappear, or even necessarily weaken, but…

Wortox, all of his fur puffed out like a frightened cat, looked down at his hands. For the first time since the curse had manifested, they did not feel like they had live rivulets of energy resting on their tips. Unless he was mistaken…

He directed his own inquiry at the Weaver, and received confirmation. The Weaver had suppressed his father's curse, allowing Wortox full control over it. Wortox would never be at risk of accidentally consuming his friends' souls again.

He contained his wild joy at this, at the idea of being able to hug them all properly for the very first time – especially Allena, who was fond of hugs – and informed the Weaver with some nervousness that his father would likely not be happy about the Weaver's infringing upon his will.

The Weaver responded with an overwhelming sense of not caring much one way or the other what Wortox's father might think.

Wortox laughed loudly and bowed deeply, then drew away to stand with his friends.

Warly walked forward and relayed a warm and cordial greeting, though he was secretly very, very anxious to be going. Though he knew rationally that the minutes were unlikely to make much difference at this point, he had some deep, irrational fear that he would return home, make his way to his maman's house, and walk in the door just in time to see the doctor laying the sheet over her. Minutes. Minutes.

The Weaver was curious about this 'maman' of his, and Warly responded instinctively and thoughtlessly with all the love, all the worry, and all the guilt that had been pent up during his long, long year away from her. His maman, whom he had promised always to be there for.

The Weaver's responding sorrow was staggering, and Warly knew at once that he was standing in the presence of a creature of incredible empathy, sympathy.

What a leader he must have made.

Another swell of sorrow. The Weaver had not been there for his people, had not shared their final moments with them. He hoped with all his heart that Warly would not suffer the same lonely fate.

Warly thanked him, eyes misty, and withdrew.

Maxwell did not want to approach the Weaver. But as everyone was now looking at him, directing their focus onto him, he did. He stepped forward and waited for the judgement of the one he knew would recognize him without a moment's hesitation.

The Weaver's attention bore down on him, and Maxwell found his mind shooting from hallmark to hallmark, moment to moment in his long incarceration as the Weaver availed itself of the information before him. Maxwell allowed it. What good would it have done to try to hide it?

At last the Weaver's probing mind withdrew, and Maxwell shuddered. The others had all received some kind of blessing in return for their services, but he, Maxwell, expected no such thing. If anything, he deserved to be cursed.

The Weaver considered this, then…disagreed.

Maxwell's attention sharpened as the Weaver's thoughts were made known to him. No blessing would he receive for the part he played in the Shadow's ruination of this world, but no curse, either. He had been cursed enough as it was. The Weaver bade him leave…his scales were balanced.

As that sentiment entered his mind, Maxwell gasped and staggered back a bit. Charlie caught him and said softly, "Maxy, are you alright? Maxy?"

Maxwell nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulder for support. His knees were still weak. Balanced. His scales were balanced.

Perhaps he would be able to live with himself, after all.

Allena walked up to the Weaver one more time. She hadn't caught all that he had relayed to the others, and she wanted to ask something.

The Weaver turned his attention back to her, receptive, and Allena asked him if he would like to come with them, to their world.

The Weaver regarded this offer with surprise, and Allena did her best to relay pictures. Sensations. The feelings of home. It was a nice place, full of living things and people. Scary at times, but homey, nonetheless. Maybe he would be happier…?

 _No, little one,_ he replied gently. _My place is here._

But this world…would it hold up? Threadbare, coming apart at the seams…would he be okay here?

The Weaver lifted his hand, reached out, and placed the sharp tip of his foreclaw upon Allena's brow.

Images erupted into her mind. The greenery that was spreading out from him would continue to spread, and where it went the Shadow's creations would be unmade. The souls that yet lingered here would be gathered, calmed, and reborn into new, natural forms. The seas would flourish with life, the caves would give up their horrors, and the memory of his kind would be safeguarded. She saw some exceptions to this great coming purge, such as the spiders and pigs, which were both welcome additions to the world. He could not in all conscience destroy the pigs. _Creatures of intellect, however minimal. They have done nothing to merit destruction._

 _And the rock lobsters?_ She asked, concerned, barely aware that the Weaver had gained a grasp of their tongue.

_Native to this world already. They will resume their status as shapers of the earth, exiles no more._

What about the beefalo? Her beefalo—

_Gentle creature. Lord of the plains. Welcome as well._

She calmed. Though the Constant had brought her much pain, it had brought her far more joy than she ever could have anticipated. She was glad to know it would be well cared for.

The Weaver withdrew his claw. She asked him, one more time, if his wouldn't be lonely.

The answer she got sent a thrill of excitement through her.

He lifted his fisted claw, struck the ground with a wave of power, and for a moment an image flashed behind her eyes. Shards of bone glowing within the earth, fossils and skulls, all of familiar proportion to the one that stood before her.

Other Weavers.

_I am alone for now. I will not be forever._

She nodded. She stepped away, but before she did she sent one last little request—

_Take care of Glommer?_

—and received a quick, firm answer—

_Of course._

She turned and looked around to the others, and to the swirling gate that stood behind them all. Unless she was mistaken, all of their business was wrapped up.

It was time to go home.


	66. Home

Black and white. Twisting, hurtling, falling, rising. Moving. Moving where?

It didn't matter. All that mattered was the warm, firm hand in his own. Allena was with him, and wherever they ended up, it would be fine.

After the Weaver had bid them all good fortune and goodbye, Wilson and Allena had taken up their packs, stuffed the puppy down Wilson's shirt, and beckoned Chester to them. Poor Chester had whined like mad upon realizing that Glommer wasn't coming with them, but after the two shared one last bouncing fit – Chester up and down, Glommer down and up – he'd consented to departure. Wilson and Allena had taken hands and, Chester right on their heels, stepped through the portal.

The trip lasted longer than the one from the Constant to the Epilogue by a considerable amount, and Wilson's head was starting to spin. Like Allena he had clamped his eyes closed before going through to cut down on the nausea, but he still feared he would be sick if the voyage didn't end soon.

Just as he felt certain he was going to vomit, gravity took over and he landed on solid ground, Allena's hand still tightly gripped in his.

He was face-up, half-way propped up by his pack, and unless he was mistaken, he was lying on a bed of pine needles. Toga was hunkered down quietly in his shirt. He blinked open his eyes.

Pines. There were tall, dark pines all around him, a deep blue sky poking through the needles. Not nighttime blue. Either late dusk or pre-dawn blue. A single glimmering white star shone between some branches.

He sat up, looked around, and shivered. There was nothing but trees around them. A wilderness.

Then a flash of light blinded him and there was another thump to his right, followed by a frightened whine. Chester had just come through.

Allena coughed slightly and sat up as well, then jumped over to check on Chester. "You okay, boy?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Wilson replied.

She smiled shakily at him, looked around, and said, "I can't tell where we are. It's too dark."

"Dusk or dawn, I wonder?" Wilson asked.

They both blinked, and without saying anything grabbed Chester and ushered him about ten feet to the right. Everyone else was going to be coming through right behind them. Hopefully.

Thankfully, another flash of light revealed Wes and Winona hand in hand. Wes was flat on his back, though Winona managed a kneeling stance. Both looked slightly stunned, and Allena and Wilson went over to quickly help them up.

Winona groaned. "We home?"

"Not sure," Allena said. "It's too dark to tell."

Wes rubbed his eyes and pulled out a torch, lighting it and looking around. There wasn't much to help them discern where they were. They decided to wait for the others until doing anything else.

Next through the portal were Maxwell and Charlie, and Wilson and Allena once more helped them up and out of the way, explaining that they weren't sure yet where they were. They repeated the process with Wickerbottom and Warly, then with Webber and WX-78, then Wolfgang and Gerald, and finally Wortox all by himself.

Wortox landed on his feet, perfectly at ease, as Wolfgang and Gerald were stumbling away with Allena and Wilson's help. At least, Wolfgang was stumbling. Gerald was firm-footed and looked as thrilled as could be, his tentacles waving excitedly.

Wortox brushed himself off and giggled. "Me oh my, such a fun way to travel! You can see where each universe starts to unravel!"

Wolfgang rebutted this enthusiastic statement by vomiting.

By the time they were all gathered again, only one thing was certain – it was dawn, wherever they were. They sky had gotten quite a bit lighter.

They all looked around as the dawn's glow brightened, but there was nothing much to tell from the area. It looked more or less like a normal pine forest, similar to any in the Constant. Where were they? Were they home? Could they possibly be? He certainly hoped so, and there were no immediately disqualifying traits. These may have looked like the pine forests of the Constant, but the pine forests of the Constant looked remarkably like the pine forests of New England.

Warly was the first to voice the question. "So – Earth, or just another Constant? Or more, perhaps, of the same?"

"Well," Wilson said, picking up some pine needles and examining them closely, "There's no way to tell where we are right off the bat, but this definitely isn't a forest from the Constant we know."

"Eh?" Winona asked. "How do ya know that, brainiac?"

Wilson passed her the plant bits he'd just picked up. "These pines have three needles per bunch. All of the trees in the Constant have two."

That was something at least. Different was hopeful. Though as nice as it would be to have landed on Earth, he also hoped they hadn't just landed in the middle of a vast New England forest somewhere. The ranges could go on for hundreds of miles, and it would be a challenge even for them to rough it for so long. There were no giant toads to tide them over, and most red berries on Earth were deadly poison. 

"Well," Maxwell said, a trifle impatient. "What is our plan? Just pick a direction and start in it? Walk until we find either civilization or a good place to set up camp? I don't have any magical divining rods that will tell us where we are, sadly."

"Oh!" Webber said excitedly. "Allena does!"

They all looked at him curiously – including Allena. "Come again?" She asked confusedly.

Webber was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You said you had a little web phone. That's how you explained it, remember? A little phone that connects to a web that spans the whole wide world, and it will connect to the web almost anywhere, so should you be able to—"

He was cut off as Allena gasped. She jammed a hand into her pocket, and by the time she'd pulled out her little cell phone Wilson had figured it out. She'd explained the same thing to him – that her phone would likely be able to access the internet to some degree from almost anywhere, even all the way out here. It would at the very least be able to tell her if the planet they were on right now was Earth or not.

She'd turned her phone off and now had to wait for it to come back on again. It cast a white glare on her pallid face as it let out the chime that signaled its functionality, and they all gathered around with bated breath, watching. Waiting.

Allena stared at the screen, Wilson looking over her shoulder. "If there's internet access, at least one of those little white bars will turn white in a minute," she explained.

They all stared, hard, at the screen, at the little bars arranged in a sort of sideways pyramid on the top of it. They had been grey for nearly a year. Would they turn white?

They stared. Nothing happened. Then…

One of them briefly flashed white. Allena's eyes widened, and she lifted the phone up a little so she wasn't crouched over it.

Two bars turned white.

The group may have collectively stopped breathing.

She touched one of the icons on her screen – a program labeled 'Google Maps' appeared.

She took a deep breath, entered an address, 7434 Longfellow Street, Foxcroft-Dover, Maine into a little white bar at the top of the screen, and hit enter. The map changed.

She then touched a small blue button with a rightward pointing, cocked arrow on it.

_Choose starting point…_

She touched a line that read 'current location,' as well as a symbol that showed a small, walking man.

It spent a few moments processing this. Then the map shifted, showed a white dot and a round red arrow connected by a long blue line, and a box upon the line read:

_4 h 29 min_   
_12.5 miles_

Allena began shaking. Her mouth dropped open, but it took her a few moments to speak. Finally, she said the words they'd all been waiting days upon weeks upon months upon years to hear.

"We're home."

Silence. Then,

"WOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Winona howled to the sky, throwing back her head and tossing a fist into the air.

Wes started jumped around animatedly, then grabbed Webber's hands and starting whirling around with him, barely keeping out of the way of the trees. Webber was laughing.

Wolfgang was grinning from ear to ear. Warly was leaning against a tree, eyes closed, a tired but contented smile on his face. WX-78 had stepped away from the main group, no doubt because he couldn't stand the overflow of emotion, and Maxwell and Charlie seemed to be thinking along similar lines. At least, Maxwell was. He'd stepped back, wincing, from the force of Winona's howl, and Charlie had followed him hand in hand looking equally ready to shout her joy at the tidings, but refraining for Maxwell's sake. Wickerbottom looked over at Wilson and gave him a congratulatory nod, which he answered with a smile and a humble dip of the head. No time to brag. There was home to be reached.

Wilson cleared his throat and said, "Now, hold for a moment! Hold! We still do not know what kind of situation we are in. Earth is a wonderful prospect, yes, and civilization even better; but there will be no telling what our reception will be until we know what era we are in. Allena," he asked. "Have you a calendar on that device?"

She nodded, but clicked it off and put it away. She pointed in a certain direction – it was hard to tell, but Wilson thought it was roughly southeast – and said, "The town limits are in that direction. It'll be a long hike, so we might want to get going. Shall we?"

They were all too giddy about the idea of being home to notice Allena's ill-masked disquiet and dismissal of the calendar, but Wilson picked it out at once. A glance towards Maxwell, who was glaring at Allena with a sharply inquisitive expression, suggested that he had maybe noticed as well, but other than him they all replied to her words with various enthused affirmations and started walking.

Allena let them take the front, hanging back, and when she saw Wilson hanging back as well she said, very quietly, "I'm afraid to look."

Wilson nodded gravely. He understood. The rest of them had, for the most part, come to grips with the world having left them behind. But for Allena it was a mystery. A single press of a button would likely be able to tell her if her sister, her last living relative of any importance to her, was dead or alive.

Wilson held out his hand for the phone, and Allena looked at him doubtfully. He twitched his fingers encouragingly. He was fairly certain that he would be able to navigate it.

She handed it to him. He looked at the layout and contemplated how best to go about checking the date.

Well, she had explained the concept of the address bar. That would take him wherever he wanted to go, assuming it worked the way she'd explained. He touched it, and a board of letters appeared before him.

 _What is today's date?_ He typed.

Go.

It was just as she'd described. The 'Google' popped up. A box with simple black text appeared at the top of the screen. He read it, re-read it to be sure he'd understood correctly, then mouthed it out silently to himself to be perfectly sure he was not about to feed her misinformation.

"My love, you said you vanished in the year twenty-nineteen?"

She nodded tremulously. "Sometime in July, yeah." Then, after a notable pause, "What's the date?"

Wilson looked up at her, smiled, then held out the phone so she could read it herself.

_Friday, October 11, 2021_

Allena was trembling. Joy and relief were coursing through her like electricity through a wire barely fit to withstand it. She felt like she would pop any moment.

The instant she learned that only two years had gone by in her nine-or-so-month-absence, she'd found her fingers taking her straight to her sister's speed dial. She'd been about a millimeter away from pressing the little green phone icon.

She stopped herself, though. They were nearly five hours away from civilization. Unless she was mistaken, there would be virtually nothing in this neck of the woods for at least three hours of their walk. Then they would reach grassy countryside dotted with a handful of old buildings. Then an hour into that they would see some paved roads and telephone lines. It should only be the last ten or twenty minutes of the walk that would bring them into the suburb that she'd lived in all her life.

She decided that it would be better to hold off on calling until she was at least near a road. The connection would likely be better, and besides that it would give her sister the chance to actually get to her if she was in town (unlikely). She didn't want to tell Linda that she was in the middle of a pathless stretch of forest.

The moment she set foot on a named street, she would call. Until then, she would wait and walk.

She finally, finally started the process of planning out a realistic course of action for all of them. Though she'd come up with some ideas before, it had all been too abstract until then. There had been too much uncertainty. Now, however, she was able to regard the ideas concretely.

She asked around to see who would be interested in getting a job straightaway, and offered up a handful of potential options. Winona said she'd be just fine with a custodial sort of gig, as she was used to dirty jobs. Allena recommended a waitress position for Charlie, who was so pretty and charming she'd probably be hired at a Denny's on the spot. Allena expected a good deal of protest and griping from Maxwell, who didn't seem like the sort of man who would be willing to fry burgers or answer phones, but he quite seriously said that he would take any job that was available.

Allena believed him, even if Wilson scoffed. She got the sense Maxwell would be willing to spend the rest of his life swamping out buses if it meant being able to support Charlie.

They floated numerous ideas until the forest started to thin out, at which point they all fell silent in anticipation. "We'll probably be seeing some signs of civilization within the next half hour," Allena said.

Turned out it took less time than that. Not five minutes later, everyone tensed as a loud, growling drone began to pervade the air, and in moments several of them had drawn weapons or thrown themselves against tree trunks to prepare for the approaching enemy.

Allena stepped where she could see the biggest patch of sky, looked up, and waited.

A few seconds later, a plane flew overhead, long and smooth and white. She relished the sight.

There was a sharp gasp as Webber flung himself after the jet where it fled between the pine branches, yelling, "Airplane! Airplane! Airplane!"

At this all the rest of them stepped away from the trees and after Webber, who followed the plane's path until it vanished into the foliage. He turned back to Allena and said, "Airplane!"

Allena laughed. "Airplane."

Several of them were miffed at missing the first real glance of modern technology – especially Wilson, who had whipped out his spear and ducked against a thick pine bough in a defensive crouch – but it wasn't much longer before their desires were met.

The forest ended abruptly, so abruptly that it almost felt like they were back in the Constant, and ahead of them stood a broad expanse of grassland dotted with farms, livestock, smooth dirt roads, and lots and lots of pickup trucks, which hastily dispelled the illusion.

They all stood there for about five minutes, admiring the view. Then they addressed the elephant in the room.

Allena turned to WX-78, Wortox, Webber, Gerald and Chester. "Um, guys? You remember how we talked about the whole 'people will crap their pants when they see you' thing?"

"Yes," Wortox said.

"AFFIRMATIVE," WX-78 replied.

Webber's mouth was just hanging open in confusion. "Kinda?"

Chester barked. Gerald gurgled happily.

Wilson chuckled. "People in the modern world will have difficulty grasping the sight of a giant rock beast, a crimson imp, an android, and a spider-boy. Chester, too, will be a challenge for them. I'm afraid our group is going to need to split up for the time being."

Wortox nodded understandingly. "I will be happy to look after the pets! And Webber and I can find fun games to play until you come to sneak us away! What do you say, friend Webber?"

Webber was whining low in his throat. "B-b-but I wants to go with Allena and see her house and her town. Can't I come? I'll hide behind Wolfgang if anyone sees me. Pleeeeeeeeease?"

Wilson shook his head and Allena, who hated the idea of leaving Webber behind this close to civilization, was about to console him, but Ms. Wickerbottom beat her to it. "You know, young man, I'll be honest; this trek is rather bad on my feet. Why don't you and I remain here and work on the lessons until Ms. Jones comes back to fetch us, hmm?"

Webber perked up at once. "You'll stay, too?"

She nodded. "Yes indeed. I'd much prefer a ride into town if it can be managed. As I said, my feet are quite sore." She winked covertly at Allena, who smiled gratefully. She knew Ms. Wickerbottom had no problem with long hikes.

"So," she said to Webber. "You think you'll be okay, just the six of you?"

Webber looked back at Gerald, Wickerbottom, Chester, WX-78, and Wortox and nodded. "Okee. We'll be good and stay out of sight. But come back for us soon!"

"Naturally," Wilson said.

Wilson also decided to leave Toga with the others, as he kept trying to run off when he was on the ground and Wilson wasn't willing to carry him for many more miles. The remainder of them – Wes, Wolfgang, Maxwell, Charlie, Allena, Wilson, Winona, and Warly, continued on their way. They picked out a nearby road and took to it.

It was really something to be on a road again, even if it was just dirt. Allena's mind went blank the first time she saw another human being who wasn't part of their group. It was a young boy poking his head out of his window to look at the procession heading past, which no doubt looked very odd. When they made eye contact, she smiled and waved at him. He looked at her cautiously, then ducked his head back inside without responding.

She glanced back at her group and figured she could forgive the kid his wariness.

They walked as the sun rose and began washing over the open grassy plain they were on. People were coming out, hopping into their trucks, and riding into town. Many others had probably been out working since pre-dawn, and the group got a lot of strange and sometimes even suspicious looks going by. Allena and Wilson always smiled and waved when they drew attention, however, and no one ended up bothering them.

They had to move out of the way several times as trucks came trundling by, and eventually decided to just move over to the side of the road for safety's sake. After maybe another hour of walking through this rural wonderland, they reached something that they all had to pause to admire.

A _paved_ road.

Smooth-ish, grey-black asphalt stretched out to either side of them, cracked and worn in some places but still mostly intact. At the place where the paved road intersected the dirt one, a sign stood that said:

BARROWTON ROAD

BOWERBANK ROAD

Bowerbank. West about two miles until they hit Ostrom. Then travel down that until…

Home.

She pulled out her phone, stepped away from the main group, and punched the call button.

They were all muttering amongst themselves, but they fell silent as they saw Allena holding the phone her to ear, pacing nervously.

_Briiiiiiiiiiing_   
_Briiiiiiiiiiing_   
_Briiiiiiiiiiing_   
_Briiiii—_

"Hello?" A sleepy, half-awake, and very confused voice said.

Allena's mouth went dry. She swallowed heavily and said, "Linda?"

"Uh, yeah…" the voice – her sister's voice – said hazily. "Sorry, who's this?"

Another pause. Then, "It's me, Lin. Uh. It's Allena."

Silence.

"What?" Wide awake. Alert.

"Allena," she said. "Um. I know I've kind of been missing for, like, two years, and I'm really sorry about that, but I'm okay. I'm back. Um. Hi."

Allena heard her sister's breathing hitching up during this whole thing, and then her voice just about exploded out of the phone. "Allena? Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Where are you? Are you okay? _Where are you?"_

"I'm fine," Allena said, throat contracting sharply as she fought to keep her voice steady. "I'm okay, really. I'm at the intersection between Barrowton and Bowerbank, you know, a couple miles out of town? I'm walking there, so it'll be another hour or two before I get to the house. If it's still our house, I mean, I don't know. Is uncle still living there?"

"No, he died, but oh my God, you're alive. I think the courts were just about to declare you legally dead. There was some confusion about the date you disappeared because that bastard never even filed a missing person's report, one of your old workmates just finally dropped by one time to check on you and finally called the cops for him, but—"

She broke off. It sounded like she was crying. Allena heard a quiet voice in the background – her fiancée's voice, softly concerned – asking, "Lin? Hun? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Allena turned back to the others, who were all staring at her, and Allena realized that she had tears in her eyes, too. Linda started explaining in the background, and Allena gave everyone a smile and a shaky thumbs up before turning away and wiping her eyes. They all looked thrilled.

She felt an arm loop around her waist and turned to see Wilson smiling warmly down at her. She leaned against him for support as her sister came back on saying, "Okay, hun, I'm in Bangor with Kat, we'll be there in about an hour, maybe a bit more, can you wait there for us?"

"Uh, yeah," she said. "But there's just one problem. I'm not alone."

"Oh, that's okay. As long as it's not more than three extra people, we're fine."

"It's seven extra people. And we have four more back a few miles and some really big hardware we also need to get moved. I mean, U-Haul big." Hardware was probably a good enough euphemism for Gerald. She vaguely wondered if her co-worker of the same name was the one who'd dropped by to see her.

Silence. Then, "Uh, alright, how far did you say you were from town?"

Allena laughed. It was a wet, slightly hysterical laugh, but it was a laugh. "Just a couple miles. Lin, how's our house? Is it still ours? Can I use it?"

"Yeah," Lin said, and Allena's heart just about shut down in relief. Housing was the only thing she'd been really worried about. "The utilities are shut down for the moment, unc died a few months ago, but I can get those right on again. I never changed the lock. Do you still have the key?"

"Yeah."

"Then just head there with all your friends, I'll rent a U-Haul or something and Kat and I will be down in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you so much, Linda. I'm really, really glad to hear you again."

Linda burst into tears on the other side of the phone, sobbing hysterically, and managed to mumble out something about seeing her later. Then her voice grew a bit distant as the phone was taken away from her, and her fiancée, Kat, was on the phone. "Hey, Allena. That you?"

"Yeah," she replied, happy to hear Kat's voice again. She'd always really liked Kat. "Sorry I've been gone so long. You two married yet?"

"Yup," she said, voice firm and happy. "Last spring. Kind of a sad occasion with you missing, though."

"I'm so sorry. If it's any consolation, we can make up for it with a doubly-happy wedding. I'm engaged."

"Oooh," Kat said, surprised. "So that's what you ran off for!"

"No!" Allena said, and Wilson, who had overheard the comment, began guffawing.

"That him in the background?" Kat asked, clearly amused.

Wilson had gone over to the group, and a few moments later they were all laughing. Allena sighed. "See you later, Kat."

"Later," she replied. "And don't disappear again! At least not until we get there. I think Linda might just flip her lid."

She said this jokingly, but there was a heaviness there that both of them were fully cognizant of. Her sister had had a really bad time of things.

"Promise," Allena said.

_Beep!_

She turned back to her friends, who were all looking at her wide-eyed and excited, and said, "Well, we still have the house. No utilities for a bit, but hopefully we'll have those soon. Shall we?"

* * *

They did.

Allena's house had been largely cleaned out of all of her uncle's things, as well as cleaned in general, so it was really nice to come home to, even if everything was dusty. It was strange seeing everything – the house, the neighborhood around it, the parks and streets and homes – as unchanged as they were. A few additions and subtractions, some new paint jobs, and the park had finally gotten the old swings replaced. Other than that, it was all the same. She walked by it all, stricken by the sameness, feeling strangely as though it ought to have changed as much as she had.

Linda arrived around four in the afternoon, and had been kind enough to get the utilities paid for, up, and running before coming over, so they were all able to enjoy hot water and therefore showers. She'd also brought the promised U-Haul, so Gerald and the others were able to get a lift to the house.

Linda and Kat were able to order pizzas for everyone, along with soda and salads for those with whom greasy food did not agree. Allena spent the evening going over the very basics of what had happened to her. An unbelievable tale…were it not for Webber, Wortox, WX-78, Gerald, and Chester, all of whom fairly well defied disbelief.

They'd all had a long day, so the story had to be cut short, Allena promising to tell the rest tomorrow. She saw everyone to their lodgings. Maxwell got her uncle's bed on account of him being an older man with lingering back issues from the Throne, and Wickerbottom got the guest bed all to herself. Allena decided to put Winona and Charlie in her parent's bed, Webber, Wes, and Wolfgang on futons, and Warly on the couch. Wortox said he would be happy sleeping in the backyard. WX-78 walked into a corner of the room and deactivated himself as soon as Allena turned in his direction. Linda and Kat were renting a motel room in town.

She and Wilson were taking her bed.

It was barely big enough for the two of them, but they were used to that. It was about as much room as they'd always had in the tent, anyways. Allena got ready for bed and sat down on the side. Wilson finished his before-bed rituals, came in, and sat down beside her.

They just sat, looking around the dimly lit room, until their eyes started to droop. Then Wilson looked down at her and said, "A bed. We're sleeping in a real bed tonight, my love. In a real _town."_

She reached up and started running her fingers absentmindedly down his back, and he sighed with contented bliss. She felt whatever tension remained in his muscles fall away as his shoulders dropped. "I know," she said. "I'm home. My room, my bed, my house…my sister. And all of my friends with me. Every single one." She looked up at him and asked, "Is this real?"

Wilson took a deep breath, almost as though contemplating her question. Then, quick as a snake, he grabbed her legs, swung her around so she was lying properly on the bed, and straddled her.

He leaned down, arms encasing her, looked her in the eye and said, "It's real, my love. We're home. And tomorrow…"

She wrapped her arms around his waist, heart too tired from the day's countless miracles to hammer properly, and kissed him.

He kissed her back, lowered himself to her side, wrapped himself around her in the closest, most intimate way he could manage, and finished,

"Tomorrow…life begins again."


	67. Opportunities

The first three days were bliss. Hot showers, nice beds, a variety of foods, and a new set of clothes and pajamas for everyone.

After that, things began to get worrisome.

Allena had enough money in her bank account – which thankfully hadn't passed into her uncle's custody before he'd died, and also hadn't gone to Linda because Allena hadn't been declared legally dead yet – to keep them all fed, keep the utilities paid, and get them all the basic necessities that they'd lacked in the Constant – hair brushes, tooth brushes, shoes, and some general body care and hygiene stuff that everyone really needed. She also dipped into her slimming funds to buy two new laptop computers – one for business, and one for everyone to use to find out all about the world.

She turned safe search on.

There was one more expense that was going to cut down on their funds considerably, but it couldn't be avoided.

Their first full day back, early in the morning, Warly had come to her privately and asked whether it might be possible for him to place a few long-distance calls. She'd wanted to slap herself – she'd been so focused on her own good news yesterday that she'd forgotten that she wasn't the only one with family that might still be alive. He waved her concerns aside. He hadn't asked because of the large difference in the time zones. If he'd called the previous day, he would have been calling rudely late. She set everything up for him at once and stood by as he made his own calls.

It took three or four for him to reach the right person. He'd had someone on retainer to see to it that his maman was cared for in the event that something happened to him. Finally, after an hour of long-distance calls, he got in contact with that person.

He spoke very calmly, but evidently had to do a fair bit of convincing to assure the man that the person he was talking to that it was, in fact, Warly Belmont. He'd switched over to French at the first word, so Allena hadn't the slightest clue what he was saying, but she looked for facial cues. Dread, sorrow, joy, excitement – anything. But Warly's face remained calm and neutral throughout the whole thing. Finally,

"Oui. Oui. Merci beaucoup. Bonne journeé." He hung up the phone.

Allena looked at him, but didn't dare ask. Warly just leaned back in his chair and placed an arm over his face.

After a minute, she saw tears leaking out from under his arm. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

She reached out and touched him, and he took a sharp, quick breath and lowered his arm. "She is alive, but in serious decline. There is no telling how much longer she will live."

Allena's mind went straight into business mode. "Have you been declared legally dead, or are you still missing? How quickly can we get you some valid ID so you can fly?"

Warly was steeped in dread over the prospects he was faced with, but he answered her questions to the best of his ability, and quickly regained his focus. Together they spent the next five hours making phone calls, several of which were long-distance, until they finally pieced together a plan of action to get Warly to southern France ASAP. It would still take at least two weeks, and would likely cost them at least half of their slender funds (which she immediately set aside), but once Warly regained access to his own finances he promised he would repay her.

Warly managed to get in contact with an old friend of his maman's, one who was a bit more lucid than others, and thanks to him he was able to get daily updates on his mother's health. That lowered his stress levels a fair bit – enough for him to function while everything was being processed.

Everyone else, for the most part, was having a ball. Webber was a little bummed about only being allowed to go outside at night, fully clothed and hatted, with two escorts, and only to certain places, but Ms. Wickerbottom made up for this by spending hours and hours with him during the day, playing and teaching him things and overall being the best nanny ever. Allena wasn't sure how she would have gotten by without her.

She was desperately looking for ads and job offers in the local papers, on Craigslist, in town, because she knew that she wouldn't be able to manage more than two weeks of support for everyone before her entire bank account was wiped out. She spent hours tugging her hair out over all the permits and paperwork and citizenship information, called ICE for information about getting everyone legal status, and called everyone together for informational meetings at the end of every day.

She also did everything in her power not to let all of it spill over onto any of them. She wanted their return to the real world to be comfortable – not marred by stress.

Linda was able to help out here and there, placing a few calls and making recommendations – she even promised to help Warly with all the Amtrak rides he would need to get to the airport, as she was an Amtrak engineer – but she had her own job. She could only do so much.

By the end of her first week back in the real world, she had more than a dozen job applications filled out for her friends, nine interviews scheduled, three phone conferences booked with various state and federal agencies, and she was ready to pull all of her hair out and sleep for eighteen hours.

Wilson, who had been watching her grow steadily more and more stressed while he listened to her tell him that everything was fine, nothing was wrong, and it was all going great, smooth as sandpaper, had taken to offering her the only real assistance he could – destressing her at the end of every day and making sure she took care of herself in the meantime.

He saw to it that she always got her meals on time, and took care of minor issues whenever he could. He actually carried her up to bed the fourth night when she'd fallen asleep at the keyboard, keeping her upright long enough for her to get ready to topple into bed. He gave her shoulder and neck rubs, assured her that everyone was happy and well-cared for, and he generally did anything he could to take her mind off of her new job – assimilating a dozen people to the modern world – once they were cuddled up in bed at the end of the day.

That night had been especially rough, but Allena was already detaching from it. She'd begun detaching when Wilson had come into her room, waited for her to get off the phone with Brent Keller from the local Denny's – Charlie had an interview on Tuesday – then came up and started rolling her rolling chair away from the desk.

She groaned, turned around to tell him to shoo, then saw the clock. "Ugh. Okay, I guess it's bedtime."

"Quite, my love," he said softly. "You are truly a blessing to us all, but be a dear and don't work yourself to death, hmm? It would be a sad demise after surviving the Fuelweaver."

"Hmm," she hummed affirmatively as she stood up and he looped an arm around her waist. He then caught her off guard, descending smoothly to her neck to gently worry at the sensitive skin he found there.

"Mmm…" Her eyes already wanted to flutter closed, and her knees were going weak. She needed to brush her teeth, her hair, wash her face, make sure no one needed anything…but boy did she want to just lie down on the bed and let Wilson lull her to sleep. He was so, so good at that.

Then the damn phone rang.

She groaned. Wilson said nothing, but tried to gently tug her away from it. She unwound herself from his grip, however, and picked it up.

"Hello, Allena Jones speaking."

"Ah! Just the person I was hoping to talk to. You're the young lady who vanished two years ago, yes? On July 19th, 2019?"

Allena's attention sharpened a bit, even as she felt Wilson's fingers running tantalizingly across her shoulders. The voice on the phone was male, sounded fairly old, and seemed excited, bordering on eccentric. "Uh, yes. That's me."

"Splendid! According to video footage, you were working on a very particular device – that Gateway built by one Wilson Percival Higgsbury roughly a century ago, yes? And I believe you also had a Voxola radio in proximity to you at the time?"

Allena's heart skipped a beat. Video footage. Awesome. She was probably going to be facing a criminal charge for that. "I'm sorry, may I ask who's speaking?"

"Forgive me!" The voice said, sounding at least slightly contrite. "My name is Wagstaff. I've been studying the Constant, you see—"

Allena's fingers twitched, and she dropped the phone.

Wilson's Russian hands and Roman fingers finally paused as he asked, "What's the matter, Allena?"

She wasn't sure how to respond, so she didn't instead she just picked up the phone and put it back to her ear.

"—lo? Hello? Are you still there?" Worry.

"Yes," she said. Then she processed the name he'd given her – Wagstaff – and said, "Do you know anything about an android named WX-78?"

"Oh, thank goodness!" Wagstaff replied, tone fully eccentric again. "You found my android! Tell me, is he still functional? He was in there for so long, I was afraid he'd been destroyed!"

Allena sat down heavily. She was talking to the man who had created WX-78, opened a way into the Constant, and sent him in to find Maxwell. This was a bit much. "Um, WX-78 is fine. He's mentioned you before, but…who are you? And how do you know who I…"

It occurred to her that the man probably had some sort of tracking device in WX-78. "Oh, I guess you tracked him to this address, huh?"

"Yes, he sent out a homing signal and a mission status report…let's see…on Friday, October 11th, at 5:32 AM."

She processed the date, then frowned. That little…he must have sent it off the second they'd all touched ground, and he hadn't told them anything about it. "Right," she said. "Uh, you can come and pick him up if you want, but we don't really have the time or money to get him to you. Things are a bit hectic over here.

"Yes," Wagstaff replied. His tone had taken on a hint of curiosity, as well as something else. "I noticed that you've been inquiring into attaining citizenship status for a number of people! I don't suppose…that is, it's unlikely, but…you didn't manage to escape the Constant with Maxwell, and perhaps some others, did you?"

Allena's mind froze. Whoever this Wagstaff guy was, he knew what she'd been doing over the last four days. "You've been spying on me? Who the _hell_ are you?"

She couldn't help the rising pitch in her voice, nor the raised volume, and she felt Wilson tense beside her. She glanced up at him to see his jaw had clenched. He was staring at the phone in her hand like it might sprout fangs and bite her.

"Oh. Oh, dear," Wagstaff said, now sounding very worried. "Yes, there has been some surveillance, but if you will allow me a moment to explain…"

Allena supposed that if this was a movie, she would run him over and start screeching insults and threats at him. Instead she just took a deep breath, calmed herself down, and said, "Go ahead. But if it's alright with you, please try to keep the explanation short. It's getting pretty late here, so I really don't want to spend the next two hours on the phone."

She heard some shuffling and clicking of a computer in the background. Then Wagstaff exclaimed, "Oh, heavens! I got my time zones mixed up! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was so late. Perhaps we could converse more in the morning? Oh, dear me. And what a tizzy I must have put you in; and right before bed, too."

He sounded genuinely upset with himself, and Allena's brows contracted. "It's fine," she said. "I really would rather talk tomorrow. But if you could answer me one thing before you go…"

"Anything at all."

She considered how best to phrase her question. She settled on, "What are your intentions regarding us? Me and all the other people who managed to get out of the Constant?"

Wagstaff breathed, "So you did escape. Marvelous. Simply marvelous." A pause, then, "Ahem. My intentions are the same as they always have been – to offer aid to those who have been victimized by the dark forces at work in the Constant, and to find a way to safeguard our world against them. I realize that my giddiness to acquire information on you and your group may have caused you some disconcertion, but I hope to be able to allay any concerns you may have in the coming days. What time might I be able to call tomorrow? Actually, why don't I give you my number? I'll be available any time from…oh, ten o'clock onwards?"

"Ten my time, or ten your time?"

"Your time. That would be seven my time. I'm in California at the moment. Here's my number." He gave it to her.

She wrote it down. She was starting to calm down from the nasty shock she'd gotten, and she nodded to herself. "Alright. I'll call…sometime between eleven and noon – eight to nine, your time."

"Splendid! We'll talk then. Have a pleasant evening, Miss Jones."

"You too, Mr. Wagstaff. Goodnight." She hung up.

Wilson was staring at her. "Wagstaff?" He asked.

"Yeah," She said. "As in the creator of WX-78, Wagstaff. Evidently, WX-78 sent out a homing beacon to him as soon as we got home, and he's been…monitoring us…ever since. He says he's interested in studying the Shadow and helping people who have been screwed over by it."

Wilson's expression went from barely-masked aggression to intense curiosity. "Oh? A scientist then, perhaps?"

"I guess. We didn't talk a bunch. I'm going to call him back tomorrow."

She was going to say more, but a wide yawn took over instead. Wilson pushed his curiosity aside and said, "Alright. Well then, let us worry about it tomorrow. For now, bed."

"Bed," she agreed.

Then Wilson's eyes narrowed. "Though I am interested in having a talk with our android friend."

Allena patted his shoulder. "Let's not freak out on him. He's programmed for certain things, so it's no use getting mad at him if he was programmed to do what he did. Besides, he's our friend."

"He's a glorified vacuum cleaner."

Allena clapped a hand to her mouth and laughed quietly, not wanting to wake Maxwell, who was in the next room over and who typically went to bed earlier than most everyone else. "Wilson, that's not nice."

"Yes, my love, you've told me before. I'm not _always_ a nice person, you know."

* * *

The next day, after breakfast, Allena grabbed a notepad and Wilson and sat down in her office to call Wagstaff – her office being the corner of her room with a desk and her computer in it, of course.

He picked up on the third ring. "Good morning!" He said, still as excited and eccentric as he'd been the previous night. "I hope you slept well?"

"Still kinda getting used to the sounds of the town," Allena said. "But not too poorly. So. Let's talk. What do you want to know about us?"

"Absolutely everything," Wagstaff said. Allena could tell that he meant it.

She'd already considered how best to deal with this. "Alright, why don't I start off with a brief summary, and then we can decide how to go on from there, because it'll take hours for me to go over everything. I was in there for eight or nine months by my time, and a lot happened. Besides, we all have our own stories."

"Fair enough," Wagstaff said agreeably. "Why don't you start with how you got there, how you got back, and we can deal with everything in between at another time."

"Yeah," she said, picking up her cup of tea and taking a short sip. "We can cover the rain of toads and giant-slaying over lunch sometime."

"Rain of toads! Ha! You got one of those too, then?"

She blinked. "You've been to the Constant? Wait…" she recalled a conversation she'd had with Maxwell. "You're the one who escaped, aren't you? Maxwell mentioned you."

"Maxwell is indeed with you, then? Yes, that was me. Maxwell saved my life. I'm glad to hear the man is alive, whatever wrong he once tried to do me."

"Alive and well," she said. "So, let me start at the beginning…"

She went over her night at the museum, the Voxola radio talking to her—

"Ah, yes," he interrupted. "A friend of mine picked up that radio, as well as the remains of the Gateway, and shipped them out here to my lab shortly after the incident. I tried to have them all recalled years ago, I cannot believe that one missed the sweep…a public museum, I ask you…"

"Well, good thing it did," she went on. "Because the only reason we were all able to get out was because I happened to bring the blueprint to the Gateway with me when I went through."

"What?! Is that how you returned? The Gateway? Higgsbury's Gateway?"

"Yeah. We built it in the Constant. We had to replace a bunch of the materials, but we did it."

"Heavens," Wagstaff said. "I saw a copy of those blueprints. The man was a genius, rest his soul."

Allena glanced up at Wilson, who was listening in and now had an extremely smug look on his face. "Uh, his soul isn't exactly resting. He's actually standing right here."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, he was the first person I met when I got there. He was in there for…what, three years? Almost four by the time we got out. But yeah, he's here, also alive and well."

"Well, what a pleasant surprise! I cannot wait to talk to him. No doubt he'll be able to advance my understanding of the Constant's strange natural laws by leaps and bounds!"

Allena took one more look at Wilson and decided that she needed to change the subject before his head exploded. She swore she could see it starting to swell. "Anyways…" she continued, and went on to explain that they'd met several other people during their time in the Constant, including WX-78, who had helped them acquire materials for the Gateway in exchange for them helping him with his mission. She skipped the part about the Ancient Fuelweaver and the Shadow, as that was really what would take ages to explain, and concluded with, "And we were able to use all those materials to build a stable Gateway and get home."

"Amazing," he said. "I have so many questions, but first, tell me – what do you think of my creation? WX-78?"

Allena thought about it. "Well, he's a bit critical of all of us, but he's really nice once you get used to him. He was super helpful with all the building and resource gathering, and he saved our lives more than once. Altogether, he's a good friend."

There was a very confused pause on the other end. "Friend?"

"Yeah, friend. He's our friend."

"Friend," Wagstaff said wonderingly. "Well, that's really something. Now, how many of you did you say there were? Wilson, Maxwell, WX-78…"

"Yeah, and seven others."

"Seven? You rescued _seven_ other people?"

"Yup. And we also brought back a few other friends – a chest-dog named Chester, a puppy, and a giant rock lobster named Gerald." Allena had been driving Wolfgang and Wes down to the rock quarry every day to get him a regular source of food, and he was doing pretty well. They'd had to strip the garage of mineral-based items, though, which hadn't been an easy task.

"Astounding! You brought back a rock lobster? However did you manage that?"

"He just wanted to come along. Followed us home and through the portal. They're really very friendly creatures, rock lobsters."

"I found them to be quite the fearsome beasts myself, but I'll take your word for it. Now then…there's business to be done."

Allena took another sip of tea, her mental guard going up at the change in pace. "What sort of business? And does this maybe have something to do with you spying on us?"

"As a matter of fact, it does!" He replied heartily, and Allena really hoped that whatever he had to say was good. She was going to be pissed if it wasn't.

Suddenly, Wilson, who looked to be getting a bit impatient, held out his hand for the phone. Allena frowned, but relinquished it.

He said, "This is Wilson speaking. Why don't you tell us a bit about who you are, and what you've been doing since returning from the Constant?"

Allena took the phone and put it on speakerphone so they both could hear. Wilson nodded appreciatively.

"Ah! Well that's quite a story. Not as exciting as yours, I imagine, but what happened, in essence, is this: one day while I was walking to my lab in San Francisco – this was in 1909, mind you – I ran into a rather strange phenomenon. A man appeared to me out of thin air!"

"Maxwell," Wilson said.

"Maxwell," Wagstaff agreed. "He tried to tempt me into the Constant, produced a bit of that substance the shadows are made of—"

"Nightmare Fuel," Wilson interrupted again.

"Nightmare Fuel!" Wagstaff agreed again, clearly not bothered by the interruption in the slightest. "But when I refused to come along and laughed his offer down, he got the most horrified look on his face. It became quite pained, and a moment later a shadow appeared beneath his feet and sucked him into the ground. What was when a first realized that there was a greater power at play – this Maxwell, it seemed to me, was merely a pawn."

"He was," Allena said. "We were able to work together to free him from the Shadow's influence, and now he's his own man again."

"Glad to hear it," Wagstaff said, and he sounded sincere. "Well, I was able to take that bit of Nightmare Fuel and work on it in my lab. The results were astounding. I took it to a friend of mine in the federal government, and while there was a good deal of skepticism at first, I eventually wound up the head of an entire research division. I constructed a one-way portal into the Constant, confident that I would be able to retrieve myself, and went. I was, however, somewhat unprepared for the Constant's savagery."

He said this not with the air of a man recalling a traumatic event, but rather a groundbreaking discovery. Allena said, "Yeah, neither was I. Thank goodness I found Wilson as soon as I did."

"Oh, my dear girl, I cannot imagine what an ordeal that must have been for you. I'm glad to hear that Mr. Higgsbury was able to aid you through the worst of it. It ended up being more than I was able to bear, personally – hounds, tentacle beasts, and any number of other horrors. At last, as I was on my last pair of legs, unable to gain enough ground to make it home, Maxwell appeared to me. He told me, 'You're not the first to come here, old man. You won't be the last. Put that brain of yours to good use and find a way out of here!' and tossed me through a portal!"

Allena and Wilson both looked at each other, surprised. Maxwell really had saved Wagstaff's life.

Then Allena had recalled exactly how the Shadow acted when defied, and she felt a horrible, heart-rending pity for Maxwell. She couldn't imagine what the Shadow must have done to him. She didn't want to.

Wagstaff went on without interruption. "I returned home to see that seventy-five years had passed in my six month absence, but my division had suspected that might happen! Their research had ground to a halt after my departure had used up our only source of Nightmare Fuel, so upon my return the program was basically defunct. But once I got back and explained how it was, we received more funding than we'd ever had. I was able to construct WX-78 with the best technology available at the time and sent him through. I'd brought back a fair amount of otherworldly stuff, including more Nightmare Fuel, you see."

He paused for a sip of whatever beverage he was drinking, and Allena mirrored him by taking a sip of tea. "I also made a very disheartening discovery," he continued. "You see, one of my inventions had been a radio that I named the Voxola. It had been designed to operate transdimensionally, to enable me to communicate with my team back home, but something went horribly wrong. I'd made two radios, one for me and one for them, but one of the men assisting on the project stole the only other radio, as well as the blueprint! You see, the problem was that it worked too well. It offered revolutionary sound and reception quality, far better than any radio on the market, so the man snuck it off to start a business producing them. From what I discovered, he only produced a small quantity before the factory that was making them exploded. Pieces of a Gateway were found in the wreckage, and the man – along with one of the factory workers – was reported missing, so it seems likely that the poor fool fell under Maxwell's sway. This all happened in 1912, a year or so after I'd left."

"Wait," Allena said. "The factory worker who went missing – her name wasn't Winona, was it?"

"It was! She isn't one of your group, is she?"

"She is! She said that an explosion came from her foreman's office, and after helping a few of her friends out she went back to help him. She came in just in time to see her foreman vanishing into the Gateway, then the thing shut down. She fixed it in an attempt to save him, but then…" explaining the Charlie thing would take too long. "…she got pulled in."

"Astounding. You know, I read the incident report. She was regarded as a hero by her co-workers. I believe there's a plaque commemorating her sacrifice on the site where the building used to be."

"Wow," Allena said. Though she figured Winona wouldn't be all that worked up over it, Allena was glad. If anyone deserved a plaque, it was that woman. "That's awesome. I'll let her know. So, what was the deal with the radios?"

"Well, they could be used to communicate with the Constant. They were a risk to anyone who had them, particularly because I lost my own in the Constant. By the time I returned in 1976, they'd been out and about for goodness knew how long. I managed to track down all but five of them – though there was no telling if other people had reverse engineered them and created more. The mere thought terrified me."

"I can imagine," Allena said. "Hey, if it's any consolation, I think we have the radio you made. We brought it along with us when we left."

"Splendid! That really is good to know. Now, after a few more years of study I reached a block in my research, which was why I sent WX-78 to the Constant in my stead. I saw how much technology had advanced, but I was still fairly limited, so I had myself cryogenically frozen. I was to be revived either in 2030 to continue research, or upon the return of WX-78. He returned just over a week ago, and the instant my department received the transmission I was revived. The department had already flagged you and your area for interdimensional activity, as they had guessed what had happened to you by the remains of the portal. When they received word that you were alive, they began monitoring your every move. I was only fully recovered as of two days ago, and I read through the full report regarding you. I must say, I'm very impressed with you, Miss Jones!"

Wilson nodded, but Allena cocked her head. "Why?"

"Why? Why, you realized that people cannot simply vanish, come back a century later, and fit right into society again. Unless I'm mistaken, you've been trying to take the official, legal route to make sure all of your friends can lead normal, legal lives here as fellow citizens, yes?"

"Oh, that. Yeah."

"Well," Wagstaff said approvingly. "I find that highly admirable. So do my friends here in the division. That is where my assistance might come in handy. We've been looking into it, and we've come to the conclusion that we'll be able and happy to streamline that process for you. We'll get everyone into the system – social security numbers and all – and make sure you all adapt comfortably to the modern world. We have more than enough funding to make this happen. All we ask in return is that you tell us everything you recall about your ordeal, that we may better know what we're dealing with."

Allena was silent for several moment while she processed this. "Hello?" Wagstaff said, concerned. "Are you still there?"

"She is," Wilson said, leaning forward to speak. "I think she may have just gone into shock. You have no idea how much of a strain she's been under, trying to get us all situated. I imagine this is something of a relief to her."

No more paperwork. No more phone conferences. No more scary legal jargon. "A relief is putting it mildly," she said dazedly.

"I see," Wagstaff said, sounding gratified. "Yes, these things have gotten more convoluted as the years have worn on. Perhaps we could have a face-to-face meeting to discuss this? Tomorrow, perhaps? In the meantime, I think it may be a good idea to transfer some funds to you, to make sure you have enough to get by until we can sort everything out—"

Allena ran him over, mind hopping to the only issue of immediate, pressing importance. "Wait. We have a really big, time-sensitive problem. Can you help with that?"

"Name it, my dear."

"One of our friends is named Warly Belmont. He's French, and his mother is very old and very sick. There's no telling how long she'll live, and we need to get him to her as quickly as possible. How soon could you have him on a plane to southern France?"

"Oh, my," Wagstaff said. "A sick mother? Well, that explains some of the long-distance calls in the report…one moment, let me lodge an inquiry."

There was the sound of muffled talking for about a minute. It sounded like he'd put his hand over the speaker. Then,

"I've talked to one of the pencil-pushers here. We have a lot of international cooperation in this Constant issue, including a division in France. We can have him on a Bangor plane at 4:25 P.M. today, and he'll be wherever he needs to be by tomorrow night at the latest."

Allena gasped. "Oh my goodness. Thank you so much. One sec, let me tell him…" She covered the phone with her hand. "WARLY!"

Footsteps in the hall. Warly's head popped around the corner. "Oui?"

She grinned at him. "You have a plane booked at 4:25 today. You'll be home tomorrow."

His mouth fell open. "How…?"

"Evidently the government has been keeping tabs on us, courtesy of WX-78. Normally I'd really object to that, but in this case…"

Warly came over, hugged her, kissed her on each cheek and said, "Merci. Thank you, Allena. I'll be packed and ready to go…well, given how little I have, likely within ten minutes. I can depart any time."

She'd let her hand drift off the receiver, and she now heard, "Any time? Well, in that case, maybe we could get him there sooner…pencil pusher!"

Allena picked up the phone again and heard a tired voice saying, "My name is Agent Foxworth, sir. I'm the head of—"

"Can we have Mr. Belmont on a plane sooner than 4:25, young man?"

"I'm thirty-nine, sir. We can have him on a plane at 12:50 P.M. at the earliest. Shall I book a cab and send a representative to pick him up?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Good man! Ah, Miss Jones—"

"I heard. We all did. You're on speaker phone."

Foxworth's voice again. "That's against regulation…"

"The cab will be there in…when, dear Foxworth?"

There was a long pause, some keyboard typing, then, "Cab ETA, twenty minutes."

Allena looked up to Warly, but he was already turning to dash up the stairs.

* * *

Allena wrapped up her conversation with Wagstaff, pulled up her bank account and nearly fainted at the deposit that had already been made, and called everyone to let them know what was up. She finished explaining then asked, "Any questions?"

Almost every hand went up.

She looked around, then pointed at Webber, who was apt to be the most impatient. "Go ahead?"

"What is going to happen to Webber?"

"Uh." She floundered for an answer that would not start off with, 'I don't know'. "Well, what I'd really like is to move somewhere more rural so you won't have to worry about people seeing you and freaking out, but in the meantime you'll just go on living here, I guess. That sound okay with you?"

He visibly relaxed. "Okee!"

Good deal. Next question. "Uh, okay…Maxwell, 'sup?"

"What is our financial situation?" He asked. Short, simple, to the point.

Recalling the amount that Wagstaff had transferred into her account still made her want to cry. "Very, very good, and Wagstaff says they'll stay that way at least until you're all on your feet." Wes, Winona, and Wickerbottom all dropped their hands after Maxwell's question, so clearly the big worry had been money. "Wolfgang? What's up?"

"When can Wolfgang get job, eh? Want to start working!"

"Hear, hear!" Winona said, and Charlie giggled.

Allena thought about it. "Well, now that we're not strapped for cash, I think it'll be smartest to wait until you're all entered into the system as legal citizens. We'll wait until we can all meet with Wagstaff and sort things out. He mentioned educational assistance for anyone who wants to pursue higher education or go to a trade school. Or you're welcome to just get working. It sounds like everyone will have a lot of freedom to do what's best for them."

Everyone looked fairly excited about this.

WX-78's hand shot up suddenly.

"Yeah, WX-78?"

"WHEN WILL I BE ABLE TO DELIVER MAXWELL TO WAGSTAFF?"

"We're all meeting with Wagstaff tomorrow," Allena answered promptly. She and Wagstaff had agreed upon a meeting time and place. He'd booked them a private room at the Claim Jumper in town, so they would all be able to ask and answer questions easily enough. "You'll be able to see him then, and Maxwell will be coming with us."

"Lovely," Maxwell said drily. "Looking forward to it."

"AS AM I, MEATLING. MY OBJECTIVE IS ALMOST 100% COMPLETE."

Allena cocked her head. "Hey, WX-78, what will you do once your objective is complete?"

He just stared at her silently. He didn't answer.

"…uh, never mind," she said. "Any more questions?"

Charlie raised her hand. Allena pointed at her, and she asked, "Do I still have that interview with Denny's on Tuesday?"

Allena smiled and said, "I don't know. Do you want it?"

She thought about it very seriously, then said, "I'll get back to you on that, okay?"

* * *

The following day, Allena walked through the front doors of Claim Jumper and came face to face with someone who couldn't possibly be anyone other than Wagstaff.

He was an older gentleman with grey hair fanning out from his head every which way, though it was well-combed. He also had a bushy mustache, as well as a tasteful goat's-beard goatee. He had a rather large nose, upon which rested an even larger pair of specs. These specs magnified his eyes considerably, the overall effect being oddly cute. Combined with his many wrinkles and large nose, he looked a bit like a pug dog. He wore a simple blue-green work shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of thick brown slacks, and a clean tan apron over it all. In short, the man looked to be the very incarnation of eccentricity. A tall, sunglasses-wearing man in a slick black suit stood behind him.

The man who Allena assumed was probably Wagstaff stood slightly hunched, but was no less energetic for it, as when he saw her his face lit up and he strode over to her with a grace and speed belying a much younger man. "Miss Jones! Good day! Oh, it's an honor and a pleasure to meet you, truly. An honor and a pleasure."

She found her face warming a bit. She'd never thought of herself as an 'honor' to meet. "Uh, likewise, Mr. Wagstaff."

"Oh, no need to be so formal. Just call me Wagstaff. Or Robert, if you like!"

Allena found herself smiling in spite of her anxiety about the meeting. She could tell at a glance that she was going to like this man. "Wagstaff. I like it. Fitting, too," she added a bit drily.

"Hmm?" He asked, curious. "Fitting? In what way?"

Wilson had just come in behind her and now approached, saying, "Nearly everyone brought to the Constant has a name beginning with 'W'. Winona, Warly, Wolfgang, Wes…so on."

"Hmm," Wagstaff intoned. "Most curious! But not you, Miss Jones?"

"You're welcome to call me Allena if you'd like. Though Ms. Wickerbottom calls me Miss Jones, too, so whatever you're comfortable with. And no…although, I suppose it's worth mentioning that my middle name begins with a W."

Wilson looked at her, surprised. "Your middle name? Why, you've never mentioned your middle name!"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I dunno. I never use it. But it's Wisteria…after my mom's favorite tree," she said wistfully. "You know, my mom always wanted to have a backyard filled with Wisteria, but it's too cold this far north to grow it."

"Wisteria?" Charlie said as she walked in, Maxwell at her side. "Oh, I love Wisteria! We should move somewhere warmer. I'll plant us a whole garden!"

Wagstaff's eyes landed on the duo, and his expression lit up once more. "Maxwell! And this must be Charlie. A pleasure to meet you." He took her hand and stooped for a kiss.

She smiled warmly at him. "Hello Mr. Wagstaff. It's nice to meet you. Allena says you're going to help us get situated in the modern world?"

"Indeed I am. Now, then," he said while adjusting his specs and peering up at Charlie's escort. "Maxwell. Mr. Carter. The man who saved my life."

Maxwell was looking at Wagstaff with an unreadable expression. "Wagstaff. Good to see you still…amongst the living."

Wagstaff smiled broadly. "Likewise. I'd have been distraught to have learned you were left behind or killed." Maxwell's eyebrows raised disbelievingly at this, but Wagstaff didn't seem to notice, and went on. "I sent my android in after you, you know…well, speak of the devil! WX-78!"

Sure enough, WX-78 had just arrived. He'd been in the car behind the others, along with Wortox and Webber. The car had tinted glass so no one would be able to see the occupants, and they had all worn excessive amounts of clothing so they could get through the door without causing a panic. As they had a private room and the waiters were all under NDAs, they would probably be fine once they got to the room.

WX-78 walked over to Wagstaff, pointed at Maxwell, and said, "PRIMARY SUBJECT, WILLIAM CARTER, DELIVERED. URGENT SYSTEM REPORT – PRIMARY TEMPLATE CORRUPTED."

"Oh, dear!" Wagstaff said. "Well, that certainly might account for your personality deviations. I've heard you made some friends, WX-78!"

WX-78 did not respond, but did turn to stare at Allena in what must surely have been a dire glare. She grinned widely.

Webber came in next, followed by the rest of the group who had surrounded him to cut down on visibility. Webber really would give someone a heart attack. "WX-78!" Winona exclaimed. "We told you to wait up so no one would see you! You almost gave that old lady a heart attack, we had to tell her you were just some guy trying on your Halloween costume early…"

WX-78 ignored her. Wagstaff, seeing that the lobby was now fairly packed, said, "Oh, my! Well, I say we ought to head up to our room, eh? Ah…Agent Foxworth?"

The man in the suit nodded, turned to the entrance counter where a wide-eyed young lady stood, trying not to stare at WX-78. "Private room for Wagstaff and company."

The lady swallowed heavily and said, "Yes, of course. Right this way, sir."

She stepped out from behind the counter and led them to a set of stairs past the bar section of the restaurant. They all followed her to the room.

It was a large and lovely thing, perfectly set up to accommodate more than a dozen people. Menus were already laid out, and once they were all seated a single snap of the fingers from their hostess brought four waiters all bearing large baskets of steaming breadsticks with butter.

Wolfgang watched as they moved gracefully around the table, dropping off the appetizers. "Hmm. Is nice." He plucked a breadstick out of a nearby basket and took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Very nice."

Their hostess told them to call if they needed anything, then a waitress came in and asked them if they were interested in drinks. In a moment everyone was clamoring for them.

"Lemonade!"

"Just water."

"Iced tea, please!"

"Black coffee. Strong. No milk, no sugar."

"Black coffee, strong, lots of milk and sugar!"

"Oh! Can Webber has a Shirley Temple?!"

"Oh, Shirley Temple over here, too, please!"

"What's a Shirley Temple?"

"Lemon-lime soda with cherry juice and a Mendocino cherry on top!"

"I think you mean Maraschino cherry, my love."

The waitress was writing rapidly, glancing up every other second to see where the requests were coming from.

Wagstaff chortled. "Oh, heck. I'll have a Shirley Temple as well. And put an extra Mendocino cherry in mine, will you, dear? Thank you. I think I can manage a little treat just this once, don't you, Foxworth?"

"Yes, sir."

Allena looked over at the man in the suit. "You're Agent Foxworth?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled at him and reached out to shake his hand. "Thank you so much for helping my friend Warly book his flight so quickly. He's been really worried about his mother. Any word on him? Has he arrived yet?"

She thought Agent Foxworth may have blinked a few times behind his sunglasses, perhaps surprised by her gratitude, but he remained monotone as he took her hand and replied. "Yes, ma'am. He arrived at Angeline Belmont's estate last night. He called to inform us that everything had gone smoothly."

"That's good to hear," Wilson interjected. "The man has spoken fondly of his mother. I'm glad that he's able to spend some time with her. Now…Mr. Wagstaff, I believe you mentioned that you've been studying the Shadow?"

Wagstaff nodded. "To the best of my abilities. I've been fairly limited in what I can accomplish on this end, however…"

Wilson nodded. "Well, I too have been studying the Shadow as best I could, as well as the pseudo-science that reigns in the Constant. I'm pleased to say I've acquired a decent grasp of it, and moreover have recorded my findings in my journals."

"Journals! Oh, excellent! Perhaps I could borrow them to have them transcribed? And your expertise will be invaluable in deciphering the findings I've made, myself, over the years…"

_Pop!_

"Hello friends! Forgive me for being tardy – I was so very much enjoying watching the cars roll by on the streets! And all the people, too! What fun this modern world is!"

Wagstaff jumped slightly in his seat, and Allena saw Foxworth's hand slip smoothly under his jacket, and she quickly said, "Wagstaff! Foxworth! This is Wortox, our imp friend we told you about!"

"Oh, splendid!" Wagstaff said, and Agent Foxworth's hand withdrew itself from what was no doubt a concealed carry. "Why, look at you! You really can teleport!"

Wortox bowed at the waist, found a seat, and settled himself in. "Yes, among other things! Now then, what's for lunch? I've been short on souls to munch, so a mortal treat will have to do."

The drinks arrived and Webber squealed in delight upon receiving his Shirley Temple, and in all fairness, Allena did, too. She hadn't had one in years. Everyone took to sipping their beverages, looking over their menus, and chatting while Wilson and Wagstaff discussed the basics of the Constant's pseudo-science, Maxwell occasionally chiming in to correct both of them, much to Wagstaff's satisfaction and Wilson's obvious annoyance.

A while later the waitress came back in. "Ready to order?"

Winona's voice piped up from the back of the table. "Oi, Wagstaff! What's our budget here? 'Cause I'm seein' some pretty good meals, but I've gotta say the numbers next to 'em are downright intimidating!"

Allena laughed. While the meals were a bit high-end, no doubt they must have looked insane to Winona, given the century of inflation and all.

"No limit at all, m'dear! Order whatever you please! Consider it a 'welcome back' banquet in your honor."

She whistled. "Not a bad 'welcome back'. Steak and lobster, please!"

Charlie looked at her, surprised. "Steak and lobster? That sounds pretty snooty for you, Winny!"

Winona shrugged. "Hey, meat and fish! That's working man's food!"

Charlie raised an eyebrow and Winona relented. "Oh, okay, maybe it's a bit snooty. But I've always wanted to try steak and lobster!"

"Oh, Charlie," Allena said. "Speaking of snooty, did Winona ever tell you about the tea party we had a while back?"

Charlie gasped, Winona groaned, and the rest of the table laughed. Except for Maxwell, who looked sullen. "You mean the one I tried to poison you at?"

"Yeah, Maxwell. That one. Could I get the chicken pot pie?"

They all placed their orders and the waitress, who was handling the fact that she was taking orders from an android, a spider-boy, and an imp exceptionally well, jotted them down, refilled a few drinks, and departed.

"Now then," Wagstaff said. "Perhaps we could discuss the nature of the dark entity that haunts the Constant in a bit more detail while we wait for our food to arrive? If it's not a bother?"

Allena and Wilson both nodded. "Not a bother at all, though as a preface to the discussion we ought to tell you – the entity you're interested in is dead."

Wagstaff's eyes widened comically behind his glasses. "Come again?!"

Wilson looked to Allena. Given that, aside from Maxwell, she knew the most about the Shadow, it was evidently going to be up to her to describe it. She actually wasn't overly thrilled, as just thinking about the thing made her feel slightly ill, but she began the account to the best of her ability.

She started with her interactions with Maxwell, which gradually began suggesting to her a greater power at play. She told him about the shadows she saw on the walls and ground, about how his form would change with his mood, about the deal she'd made with him, about the encounter at the Thornwood Base – censored – and finally about the dream she'd had, when she'd first called the Shadow out for what it was. That was when the food arrived.

Man was it was good food. Wilson was just about in heaven with his fillet mignon, roasted vegetables and tall glass of red wine that had a name Warly would probably have been able to pronounce correctly. Webber had gotten himself a big bowl of macaroni and cheese, and was being gently reminded by Wickerbottom that he needed to eat his salad as well. Winona dug right into her snooty food, and Charlie started on her big Caesar salad. Maxwell was enjoying a large plate of slow-roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, buttered green beans, and a tall glass of white wine with another name Warly would have been able to pronounce properly. He took a few bites and said, "You know, Allena, I must confess – I think I preferred the meal you prepared last Christmas. I hope you'll be cooking for us again this year."

She was flattered. "I'd love to. And Thanksgiving is right around the corner – you'll all get to try my mom's famous green bean casserole recipe. She made it every year when I was a kid."

"I'm looking forward to it," he said, then asked Charlie if she'd like to try some of his turkey.

Allena got the sense that Maxwell was very much enjoying the afternoon. He and Charlie were dressed to the nines, Allena having taken them out that morning to find some formal wear with their newly acquired funds. A good meal, a tall glass of wine, and company that ranged from good to at least tolerable – yeah, Maxwell was probably having a pretty nice day. She was glad. He deserved a few.

She insisted Wilson try some of her pot pie, and he in turn insisted she try some fillet mignon. She'd never had any before. Turned out, it was pretty darn good.

After the meal Allena went back to recounting their encounters with the Shadow. Wagstaff was thoroughly fascinated by the story, and by the time she got to the Dragonfly encounter even Foxworth was clearly transfixed. She noticed that the others at the table had fallen silent to listen to her recount the last of their adventures. She hoped she was doing the story justice.

By the end of it – the Fuelweaver, the revived Weaver, the trip home – she saw that Wagstaff looked very nearly thunderstruck. "Heavens. What a compelling story. I do hope you'll write that down. Though the world isn't quite ready to accept all of this as fact, I daresay it would make waves under the genre of fiction."

At first, she laughed; then she realized that he was being serious.

Huh. A writer. She had always enjoyed writing short stories and such. Maybe she would give it a try.

Suddenly, Foxworth cleared his throat and Wagstaff said, "Oh! I almost forgot. Foxworth?"

Foxworth pulled out a briefcase from under his chair, set it on the table – the waitress had just begun clearing their dishes in preparation for dessert – and opened it. He then pulled out two large piles of folders, handed one pile to Maxwell, who was to his immediate right, and one pile to Wagstaff, who was on his immediate left, and said, "These are your official citizenship papers. Birth certificates, IDs, so on and so forth. Please find yours and pass the stack along."

Wagstaff passed the pile to Allena, who glanced down and saw name tags jutting out of each folder, spotted Wilson's, and pulled it out before passing the stack along. She flipped it open, curious, and stared at the document. It was a birth certificate made out under Wilson's name, the stated date of birth 1990, placing him at…31 year old.

She handed the folder to him and he looked it over. "Technically, I'm 32…but who am I to turn down an extra year of youth?" He winked at her.

Everyone was rifling though the folders, finding their own and passing the stack along. By the time they all had their papers, the waitress came back in with a large cart covered in desserts.

It looked like Wagstaff had ordered just about one of everything on the sweets menu, and to Allena's surprise right in the middle was an entire chocolate motherlode cake. She hadn't even known you could order an entire chocolate motherlode cake. Needless to say, the paperwork was quickly shuffled aside.

Once they were done, Wagstaff said, "Well, I suppose I've received enough information to keep me content for a while! Now…"

He spread his hands genially, nodding sideways at Agent Foxworth. "Agent Foxworth and I will be happy to answer all of your questions."

He was bombarded instantly.

"Can I go to school?"

"What are the odds of me finding a manufacturing job in this city?"

"I don't suppose there's a position at the local library that I might be able to snag?"

Agent Foxworth frowned, and Wagstaff waved his hands. "Slow down, one at a time! Alright…you there! You first." He pointed at Wolfgang, who had raised his hand.

Wolfgang, who had been in a jovial mood all the while, sobered a bit. "Wolfgang would like to know if any family members are still alive. Wouldn't mind getting in touch with descendants."

Everyone looked at him in surprise. Allena hadn't even thought about that. A lot of them might still have living family, even if they were removed by a few generations.

Wagstaff nodded to the question. "We took the liberty of charting all of your family trees and situating you in them as best we could without running the risk of raising suspicion. If anything comes up, we'll be happy to explain the situation to your families with a few well-placed NDAs. As for you, Wolfgang, I'm afraid your sister passed away a while back; but she had a large family, and I imagine they'll be happy to have you. You'll just have to call your nephews and nieces cousins instead."

Wolfgang's eyes bulged. "Asenka's family? _My_ family?"

Wagstaff smiled kindly at him. "Your family."

Wolfgang's Adam's apple began bobbing up and down, and to everyone's surprise he actually lifted a napkin to his face to dab at the corners of his eyes, which had begun leaking. Finally he rumbled, "Am thanking you very much."

Following a moment of silence, the others began raising their hands one at a time. They asked about their own families, about opportunities for work and schooling, and a few of them even had some nuanced questions about things like medical insurance, voting registration, and social security. That last was of great interest to Ms. Wickerbottom, who was informed that her own finances had been recovered, adjusted for inflation, and padded a fair bit to ensure that she would have more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life, as she was well past the age of retirement.

By the end of the round of questions, Wagstaff was positively glowing. He and Foxworth had been able to answer every inquiry satisfactorily, and Allena recognized exactly what was going through his mind.

He was just like her – glad to be able to help those people she deemed important to her.

Finally, the meal was concluded and they all got up to depart. Wagstaff took the bill, peered at it closely, shrugged, and gave it to Foxworth. Foxworth pulled out a card, jotted something down on the receipt – probably a tip – and handed it back to the hostess, who's eyes promptly bulged right out of her skull. She covertly showed it to one of the waiters who was rolling the dessert cart out, and the man's jaw dropped as he almost wheeled the cart right into a wall. Looked like they'd gotten a pretty big tip.

The group made their goodbyes, Allena giving Wagstaff a hug and Wilson shaking his and Foxworth's hands, and as they made their way out she noticed Wortox – who would be Hopping straight into the car with one of his remaining souls – leaning down to speak quietly with Wagstaff. All Allena caught of the conversation was an exclamation from the man, who said, "Oh, heavens! Yes, yes, I think we can offer them a spot of aid! Why, I know just the national forest!"

Allena and Wilson looked at each other quizzically, then shook their heads. If Wortox wanted them to know, he would tell them. Eventually. Hopefully.

Wilson paused before they walked out. He leaned over to Foxworth. "Ah, you know, I do have one more question."

"Yes, sir?"

He lifted Allena's hand, displaying the ring for Foxworth to see, and asked, "Do you think you might help us acquire a marriage license?"

Allena beamed at him.


	68. The Last Adventure

One year had gone by, and oh, what changes it had brought.

They'd decided to move away from Maine. It was far too cold for most of them (though Wolfgang had stated that he'd just been getting comfortable), and they needed somewhere more rural anyways. She and the others had spent a solid month researching new options, and they'd found a new home that suited them all just fine. It was in California, one of the solidly rural regions well away from the madness of the big cities, and everyone had been able to find a way to live comfortably.

Wolfgang had opened a small woodworking business a few hours away from Wilson and Allena's town, making beautiful custom pieces for people – sculptures, furniture, small toys and games – and with the roaring economy, business was booming. He was just outside of the town where one of Asenka's sons lived with his family, and they'd taken to Wolfgang almost at once when he'd explained the whole wanting-to-connect-with-long-lost-family thing. He dropped by to visit his new family a few times a month, often with homemade toys and trinkets for the kids, and called Allena, Wilson, Wes, and all the rest of them at least once a week to keep in touch.

Wes had, with Allena's encouragement and a few classes on computers and editing, made a huge splash as an online sensation with his miming. He had his own website and he'd branched out to numerous platforms. Winona was fairly mystified by the whole thing, but she knew it made Wes happy, and that made her happy. Along with the periodic side jobs he took up to fill in the gaps in their budget, it was also lucrative enough to keep them afloat.

Winona was attending a trade school to learn about electrical engineering and other things related to her interests. She'd learned all about the concept of 'planned obsoletion' and was pretty offended by it, so she was intending to make it big designing appliances that were actually built to last, like the old days. Time would tell whether she had a shot in the world of modern technology and business, but Allena thought she had what it took to make it, and wished her the best of luck. She and Wes were living together in a beautiful house just an hour or so away from Allena and Wilson's property. They came down for dinner a few times a month. It was nice.

Warly had lived with his maman for the last year, and had only recently returned to the states, intent on becoming a permanent resident. He was staying with Webber and Wickerbottom in the guest room, which suited all of them just fine.

Upon his return to France, his maman Angeline's condition had improved shockingly, and things had gone well for the next ten months. Then a bad seizure had resulted in the doctors making a serious diagnosis – a brain tumor. Warly had called Allena and Wilson shortly after receiving the news, and told them that the tumor was likely to be fatal within a month or so. She and Wilson had both been distraught to hear this, but Warly had assured them that it was fine. All that mattered was that he would be there for her. He'd be there for her until the very last breath. And he had been.

WX-78 was with Wagstaff at his research facility, which had been relocated to the town that Wilson and Allena were living just outside of. The android was helping him conduct research with the copious amounts of data he'd recorded during his time in the Constant. The two of them also came to dinner at least once a month, and though WX-78 regularly complained about this, Wagstaff had informed them that WX had full autonomy to decline the invitations and stay behind to work, but he never did.

Maxwell and Charlie were tackling the modern world fiercely. They'd been so in sync with each other that they'd had their goals charted within a week of that first meeting with Wagstaff. Maxwell was done with magic and performance. Instead, he was taking an accelerated course in architecture. He'd learned a great deal about designing living places from all his time in the Constant, after all, and that knowledge translated stunningly well to his classes. He was topping all of them, which many of his younger peers found infuriating, and bringing daunting insights and ideas to every discussion, which his professors found thrilling. When he graduated, he intended to go into business designing homes, with Charlie taking care of the landscaping.

Allena suspected that they would make a perfect team. Charlie had helped her with their own backyard, which had been a large, empty plot of grass and a few scraggly trees and bushes when they'd first gotten it. Now it was a veritable Eden, with groves of fruit trees artfully situated around stone walkways, layered planters full of lilies and daisies and all manner of herbs and tea plants, the entire property surrounded by tall iron gates covered in thick, lush walls of Japanese Wisteria. (This was partly thanks to Wortox, who had used some sort of spell his mother had taught him to produce a good ten years of growth in the plants in the space of about eighteen minutes.) The gardeners were under an NDA.

Speaking of Wortox, they'd finally discovered what he'd been so secretive about all that time. They'd learned about it when they'd all gone for a trip to a nearby national forest.

Wortox had brought back Treeguards.

The massive bag of pinecones that he'd been lugging around for ages? Yeah, turned out they'd all come from Treeguards. Evidently the Treeguard they'd befriended back in the Constant had sent him on a quest to visit just about every Treeguard left on the planet (apparently there weren't very many). The Treeguards recognized the inherent instability of their world, and were sick of the regular bouts of destruction and creation that occurred there. At this point, they didn't even trust the Weaver to take adequate care of the world. They wanted their offspring to live in a home that would be unchanged by magic and shadow; to that effect, they'd given Wortox their pinecones and asked him to plant them on Earth. That was where Wortox's request to Wagstaff had come in.

It hadn't been too hard to get permission to plant them. So many wildfires had broken out over the last seven years due to improper forest management that the national forestry service had just about given up hope of ever fixing their charges. Then Wagstaff had spoken to state officials, and alongside Wortox they'd finally come to a solution. Under careful observation from the federal government, he'd been allowed to plant the Treeguards in one of the more poorly maintained national forests in the state.

Now their national forest was full of Treeguards. Needless to say, large portions of it were declared off-limits to civilians. Rumors had spread, though, and every Lord of the Rings fan and their mother had been trying to sneak in and catch a glimpse of the Ents.

Allena was stunned by how well the arboreal giants taken to their new home. Although the Treeguards in the Constant were enraged by people culling trees, the ones here were apparently bothered by the overgrowth. They did not fell trees. Instead, wherever they went, a really odd thing happened. Some of the trees simply underwent rapid deaths, shriveling up and sprouting several very healthy pinecones before toppling of their own accord. The Treeguards always took these pinecones and safeguarded them, transporting them to less populated locations and replanting them there, often with Wortox's help. The result was that the forest, once overly dense and resultingly disease ridden, thinned out and became much healthier as a result. Diseases vanished. Wildlife that had been languishing began to thrive. Treeguards gathered up dead foliage relentlessly and transported it to locations where forestry workers could load it up in their trucks and take it to burn sites to be safely disposed of.

The forest healed.

Wortox had taken to living amongst the Treeguards, overseeing the forest's rejuvenation and feeding on the souls of deer, of which there were no shortage. At the rate the Treeguards were working and growing, he thought that the forest would be fully restored well within the decade, at which point they could move on to another one. He also Hopped over to visit Allena and Wilson from time to time and update them on the Treeguards' progress. He was very, very proud of his new family.

As for the rest of them…

Wilson, Allena, Warly, Wickerbottom and Webber all lived together on the same property. It had two houses on it, one for Wilson and Allena, the other for Webber, Warly and Wickerbottom. Wickerbottom, who had initially insisted upon a job at the local library, had instead retired and taken on Webber as her charge. She was now his full legal guardian, and since he wasn't able to attend a public school, she was his teacher as well.

The five of them had dinner together most nights. They spent a good deal of time playing outside, which was possible due to the tall walls of iron and Wisteria that surrounded their property, keeping prying eyes away. Gerald, Chester, and Toga lived there with them, Gerald having taken over a defunct granite quarry on the edge of the property. He was steadily digging himself a cozy cave system, and Allena went down to spend time with him just about every day. Chester and Toga had full run of the property and often spent time running around with Webber or going for picnics with them. Chester made an excellent picnic basket. Toga was growing like crazy, and they were both worried about how big he was going to get. If he got Varg-sized, they might be in trouble.

Allena had taken Wagstaff's advice and decided to try her hand at writing, which she did at her computer daily with a nice cup of tea and Chester and Toga often curled up on a nearby couch. She'd been hesitant to start, but she found that once she did, she just couldn't stop. She ended up writing out a rough draft of her entire adventure in the Constant in about three months, saving the raw copy, then re-doing it in a more reader-friendly format. She'd changed most of their names, though she'd kept Maxwell and Wilson as little nuggets of lore for anyone interested in digging. After all, both Maxwell and Wilson were well known enough by themselves: the astounding magician who hadn't quite managed to make it big before vanishing in the San Francisco Quake, and the eccentric scientist who had vanished a century ago in the backwoods of New England, leaving behind nothing but a mysterious device.

Four months after the rough draft she'd sent the first book of the Into the Constant series off to the publishers. To her delight, it was already doing well. She'd already had someone send her a letter identifying her Wilson as the figure from Maine lore.

As for Wilson, he couldn't have been happier with his situation. With Maxwell unwilling to have anything to do with magic or the Constant ever again, Wilson had become the foremost expert on the topic. This was partly why Wagstaff's research facility had relocated where it had, so it would be near enough for Wilson to drive to every day. He worked there alongside Wagstaff as the head of research…for which he was paid an exorbitant salary. According to the feds, the forces he worked with were scary enough to merit six figures. Allena wasn't complaining. Their garden required a lot of work and irrigation.

Wolfgang was a woodworker. Wes was in entertainment. Winona was on her way to becoming a serious handywoman. Maxwell and Charlie were going into architecture. Wortox had his forest. Webber and Wickerbottom and Warly had their own home. They'd all branched out, and they all had their own lives.

But tonight, they were all together again for one last big adventure.

They were gathered at Wilson and Allena's home, which was lit with dozens of strands of bright golden lights, all snaking their ways through the vines and trees and fixtures that surrounded the house, and these flickered on smoothly as the afternoon fell to dusk. Dinner, courtesy of the half a dozen sous chefs that Warly had hired on for the evening (NDAs for the lot of them) was cooking inside, and would be ready to serve the once the ceremony was done.

Wilson, hair smoothly combed back into its customary regal tufts, stood just outside the house tugging at his collar. He'd never been one for formal events, but in this case he was just as excited as he was anxious. He was classy as could be in a fine black suit with a deep crimson vest, a crisp white shirt underlying it all. A red, red rose was tucked into his shirt pocket, the finest bloom he could find on the plants that lined the southern side of their house. Though Charlie's main focus was now on learning the art of landscaping so she could go into business with Maxwell, she still adored fashion design, and she'd tailor made Wilson's suit just for this occasion. She'd also done Allena's dress, which Wilson hadn't been allowed to see, and which she was now upstairs helping Allena put on.

Just the thought of that made his stomach flutter with nervous butterflies. She'd be down soon.

Everyone was there. Warly, who had been looking forward to this occasion from the moment the date had been set, was rushing around making sure everything was perfect. Wolfgang, who looked quite impressive in a white and gold suit with his hair slicked back and his moustache well-curled, was standing near the cake talking to Wes, who looked downright snazzy in a pair of beige slacks and matching gloves, a nice leather belt, a plain black tucked-in shirt, and a rather snazzy crimson scarf. Beside him was Winona, whom Wilson actually hadn't recognized upon her arrival. She was wearing a dusky blue dress with elbow-length black gloves. Her hair was done up in a short, flaring do, and a small bunch of violets was woven into it. Pure white pearl earrings hung from her lobes. Charlie, who had looked resplendent arriving in a long gown of light lavender, had almost cried upon seeing her sister so thoroughly beautified.

Ms. Wickerbottom, evidently, had half a dozen gowns she'd been debating between for the evening – a cobalt and white gown lined with fur, a rose-red ballgown, a twilight purple gown, and even a fiery red and yellow gown – but she'd finally decided on a simple silver-grey gown with a black overcoat, hair pulled back loosely in a relaxed bun, a few bronze chains strung through her locks and over her brow. She was sat beside a fountain watching over Gerald, whom Allena had groomed with a steel brush for the occasion. Toga had gotten a bath, and was on a long, titanium lead bolted to the ground nearby. He'd had a big bowl of food, and was dozing contentedly. Webber was near him feeding rocks to Gerald, and was also surprisingly well-groomed. Though he normally hated clothing, as it irritated his spider hairs, he'd been nothing but excited to look his best for this event. He was now clad in a fine, dark grey suit jacket with a black undershirt and a puffy red cravat at his throat. His spider hair had been slicked back and combed, and each of his extra head-legs now bore a classy little grey ribbon.

He'd drawn the line at wearing pants, though.

Allena's sister and her wife were also at the party, Linda in a knee-length, bright green and gold dress and Kat in a snazzy black suit, her short hair combed back simply but neatly. They were chatting with Wortox, who had brushed every inch of his fur and trimmed it tastefully such that he had something of a mane. His horns had been polished until they shone and bore small gold rings, and he'd adorned himself with several thin golden chains that looped around his collarbone all the way down to the bottom of his sternum. Around his neck was a golden collar made of interlocking winged plates, a stone of onyx in the middle. A flat circlet of gold rested on his brow, pointing down between his eyes, and was also set with onyx. Gold chains were laced around his upper arms down to his elbows, and his claws were plated with gold as well. Finally, around each ankle hung a solid golden anklet. It all struck Wilson as vaguely Egyptian, as though they were in the presence of some long-lost prince – or, perhaps, a long-forgotten deity.

Wagstaff and WX-78 were both there as well, and had paused for a chat with Maxwell. WX-78 had shined himself up marvelously for the occasion, and for whatever reason decided that 'dressing up' included plastering a fake, thin black mustache to his face and twirling it periodically. He also wore a red bowtie at his neck. Wagstaff had handled himself a bit more sensibly, and wore a plain, light grey suit with a deep blue tie. Wilson had noticed Wickerbottom admiring him from afar, and he'd decided that he would have to get the two talking. That was what the host was supposed to do, right? Help people mix and mingle?

He was waiting for Maxwell and Wagstaff to finish talking so he could do just that, but when their conversation finally broke up Maxwell caught his eye and beelined for him.

Wilson no longer tensed when approached by Maxwell. They'd worked out their animosity through regular letter correspondence, which had forced them to communicate slowly and methodically and therefore avoid getting heated under the collar. It had been Allena and Charlie's idea, and it had worked better than either of the men had expected.

Maxwell was always dapper, but he'd clearly gone to extra lengths for this event. Like Wolfgang, he wore a white suit rather than his customary black one, and he'd also donned a deep crimson undershirt. His hair, as Allena had pointed out upon arrival, had likely been done professionally, as had his eyebrows, nails, and probably everything else. A golden pocket watch chain hung from one pocket, affixed to his finely patterned black belt, and he looked to be of a supremely mellow mood.

He approached Wilson and said, "Congratulations, Higgsbury. You must be quite excited. Quaking in your boots, I imagine, but excited."

Wilson glanced up at the house. On the second story he saw a shadow flash by the curtained window that he knew was Allena's. It wouldn't be long now. "It's the best day of my life," he said simply.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at him, and Wilson let out a long breath and tugged at his collar once more. "Alright, yes, I'm a bit nervous, too. But really, best day of my life."

He and Maxwell looked at each other for a long moment, then both men laughed lightly. Maxwell also looked up to the window, where his own partner was surely helping Allena do up her dress or straighten her hair or some such preening.

Wilson said, "You haven't proposed to her yet, have you? You may want to get on that."

Maxwell's gaze sharpened at the comment, then darted around furtively. He stepped a bit closer, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a thin, shallow box. Flicking it open…

Wilson's eyebrows raised. It was a ring of pristine yellow gold, intricately inlaid with wave-like designs. The band was set with a large diamond. Very large.

Wilson looked up from the ring and Maxwell said, "I'm rather hoping that she catches the bouquet. Not that it matters whether she does or not. No one in the world believes that old myth, anyways."

Wilson chuckled as Maxwell stowed the ring. "No, I suppose not. I hope we'll be invited to the wedding?"

"Assuming she says yes. Who else would we have?" Maxwell grumbled.

Wilson snorted. "'Assuming she says yes'. What else would she say? Unless you've been having some sort of domestic troubles that Allena somehow hasn't picked up on? Unlikely given that she and Charlie talk several times a week."

"No," Maxwell said, but Wilson noted with some surprise that the man had acquired a rather vulnerable look. "But…she's just…I mean to say…might she not…?"

He trailed off as the atmosphere changed. The music, which had been playing softly in the background, faded away. Warly scampered up to the two and said, "Wilson! Everything is ready. Are you?"

Wilson swallowed, nodded, and Warly said, "Splendid! Webber has the rings, I'll get everyone seated then come back for you. Maxwell, would you…?"

Maxwell nodded sharply, said, "Best of luck, Higgsbury. Make sure you don't flub your lines."

Wilson stuck his tongue out at Maxwell, who cackled softly and made his way over to his seat.

As Wilson stood there watching Warly run about directing everyone to their seat (with the exception of Agent Foxworth and his men, who were all in the shadows nearby providing security), his heart began to patter fairly quickly. Again, he tugged at his collar.

Finally, Warly came over, frowned at him, reached out and straightened his collar – Wilson resisted the urge to yank at it again – and said, "Well…shall we?"

Wilson nodded. He and Warly made their way up to the altar, and Warly stepped back into the customary Best Man spot. Wilson stood, the priest just beside him, waiting tensely in the near-silence. The only sound was that of Gerald lightly clicking his great, stony claws.

Then, the music began.

It wasn't the typical wedding dirge, which neither he nor Allena had much cared for. Instead, they'd sifted through dozens of songs until they came to one that they both loved. They'd hired a few local musicians to learn and play the song 'The White Lady' by Christopher Larkin. A simpler melody, but both of them had preferred that.

Sure enough, at a signal from Warly, the harpist began to pluck, the two violinists joining in softly on their own cues. The music washed over the group, the lights dimmed…

And Allena stepped out of the house.

Wilson's breath caught in his throat, and he hardly even noticed their small gathering rise in respect. She wore a flowing gown of white that defied description. It fanned out behind her, catching all the light around such that it flowed with it, a river of silk and radiance. Fine, glittering beadwork flowed across her shoulders and neckline, and layers of fabric brought complexity to the dress as far as the waist, at which point it flowed out in an unbroken wave. There were no sleeves, but her arms bore some adornment. The right was adorned only with the pale patterns of her scars. The other was wrapped in a custom piece, courtesy of Charlie, that fanned out from her wrist to her elbow, all crisscrossing white leather and opals. Together they made for a strange symmetry that Wilson found transfixing. Clasped in her hands was a bouquet of white lilies.

Her hair was perfection, lightly curled without the use of spray or gel. It hung down to her collarbone in deep brown rivulets. Her eyes, dark even in the bright beams that had come on overhead to light her way, stared out at him from a face that was flawless, slightly flushed, and unmasked by a veil. Neither of them had cared for the veil any more than they had the dirge, though Charlie had insisted upon a train to carry – which she was carrying now as Allena made her way up the aisle to him.

To _him._

In that instant, all of his worry and anxiety melted away. She strode down the simple stone walkway, as slow and graceful as the tune that accompanied her. He waited patiently, as he had all this time, and when she at last reached him, it occurred to him that the wait had been worth it. Every, single second of it.

The music faded to a close.

They stood before the priest, who said, "We are gathered here today to see this couple joined in holy matrimony. May God bless this ceremony, and may God bless this pair through each and every one of the days to come. Amen. You may be seated."

The group sat and the priest continued. As Allena had no parents or guardians of any kind to give her away, he passed over that section and skipped right to the vows.

"Wilson Percival Higgsbury," he began. "Already in your time together, Miss Jones has shown you devotion and care, loyalty and courage, and brought such joy to your life as you had once never hoped to deserve. Through all the trials you have faced, she has always returned to you, whatever the obstacle barring her path. Do you swear to do the same for her? To bring her joy and comfort for all of your days, and to always return to her, no matter the distance, until death do you part?"

In a calm, clear voice, Wilson said, "I do."

The priest nodded. To Allena he said, "Allena Wisteria Jones. Already in your time together, Wilson has shown his utter dedication to effect your safety and happiness; he has stood beside you through trials insurmountable, and together you have surmounted them. All his strength, all his heart, and all his mind he has offered in service to you. Do you swear to do the same? To fight each and every day, with all your mind and all your will, in service of the union – the family – here to be made?"

She took a quick, sharp breath and said, "I do."

The priest opened his mouth to continue, then looked around in confusion. From just offstage they all heard Warly whisper, "Webber! The rings!"

"Oh! Sorry!"

Quiet laughter rippled through the audience. Allena and Wilson both smiled widely as Webber, their ring-bearer, came out, eyebone in his hand and Chester, who was groomed to perfection, hopping at his side. Webber came up to them, tapped Chester on the head, and reached inside him when his lid popped up. Out of Chester's belly came the rings.

Wilson picked Allena's up. As she held up her hand to him, he said, "May this ring be ever a reminder that my love for you spans a divide far greater than Heaven or Earth. With it, I thee wed."

They hadn't told each other their ring vows prior to the ceremony, and now, as he slipped the ring over her slender finger, her eyes shone up at him and she nodded. He could see her throat contracting with the force of her emotion, and it was a long moment before she reached out to take his own ring from Webber.

This one was also gold, a simple band, but the center was shot through with an internal ring of a deeper hued metal – Thulecite. Like hers, Wilson had made it himself.

Wilson held up his hand to her, and with her voice regained she said, "Let this band forever remind you of the nature of my love for you – it is _constant."_

His heart skipped a beat as she concluded, "With it, I thee wed," and slipped the ring over his finger.

And with those last vows spoken, the priest said, "Very well. Wilson Percival Higgsbury, Allena Wisteria Jones…I hereby pronounce you husband and wife." He nodded to Wilson. "You may kiss the bride."

Married. Wilson pondered, briefly, how many times had he said in his life that he would never do this.

What a fool he had been.

He placed a hand upon Allena's waist, drew her to him, and kissed her.

The musicians struck up the song again, and before them the procession rose and applauded. Webber and Warly, off to the side, also cheered, and Chester and Toga began barking like mad and hopping all around. All of it was strangely muted, though. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears, and all he could feel was Allena's arms wrapped around him.

She was his. He was hers.

Until death should they part.

* * *

_I do._

The words still lingered on Allena's lips, which didn't seem to be willing to give up their smile. She was still grinning like a loon, and had been since the conclusion of the ceremony.

She was now whirling around the dance floor with Wilson. Both of them had taken some classes in preparation for the evening, and they were owning the floor for this first dance. Soon others would take to it, but not too many. There really weren't a whole lot of them, after all.

She was married. _Married._ How long had she been waiting for this? How many times had it seemed like it might never happen?

Only a few. There had been a short flash of despair when the Dragonfly had risen out of the sea to finish its battle, and another when the Ancient Fuelweaver had destroyed the Gateway, but aside from those two incidents, she realized that she had never really doubted that they would reach this moment.

The song ended and a few other people took to the dance floor. She and Wilson enjoyed one more dance before Wilson tugged her over to talk to Warly.

Warly saw them, came over, gave Allena a hug and brief kiss on each cheek, then wrapped Wilson up in a great bear hug. "Ah, friends of my life, how good to see you together in such a way. It warms my heart, truly."

"If _you're_ happy to see us wed, imagine how _we_ feel," Wilson said, mildly exasperated, and Allena laughed.

"Say, Warly," she asked. "When do you think dinner will be ready? No one will want to dance for too long. I don't know if anyone besides Wes and maybe Maxwell and Charlie even know how."

Warly frowned. "Those sous chefs are really quite lackluster. By my standards, I mean. I'd say dinner will be ready within thirty minutes – which gives you time to change out of your dress! Imagine spilling something on it, hm?"

Allena was surprised. "Oh, should I change out of it?"

"Before dinner? Of course!"

Allena and Wilson turned around to see Charlie coming over to them looking playfully chiding. "That's why I made you two dresses, remember?"

"Oh, right," Allena said. "I guess I still don't have the whole wedding thing down yet."

"If it's any consolation, neither do I, my love," Wilson said, and both Warly and Charlie groaned.

"No wonder you chose us as your planners," she said in exasperation. "Honestly, what would you have done without us?"

Warly winced. "Ah, do not even ask. I do not care to imagine."

They all turned to see Wes and Winona whirling wildly around the dance floor to an upbeat, swinging tune that had just come on. Winona was still holding the bouquet, which Allena had tossed over her shoulder with the intent of hitting Charlie. Winona had swooped in at the last minute, though, pushed her sister out of the way, and grabbed it herself. Charlie had pushed back, trying to steal it, but Winona had just held her at arm's length and laughed while Wes and Maxwell both watched the whole thing with expressions torn between amusement and outright alarm.

Allena went upstairs and changed into a more suitable dress with Charlie's help.

"Oh, this is wonderful," Charlie said. "I just know you two are gonna be so happy together."

"Yeah," Allena said, still grinning. "I do, too. So, what's the deal with you and Maxwell? Have you two talked…?"

"About getting married?" Charlie asked, and Allena heard a definite note of tension in her voice. "No, not yet."

"Hmm," Allena hummed as she carefully slipped off the gown. It really had been magnificent, but she'd been sweating bullets wearing it. She wouldn't mind getting into something at least slightly more casual. "Maxwell's a quiet kind of guy, isn't he?"

"He didn't used to be," Charlie said quickly. "He always had that air in public – of being mysterious, aloof, subdued – but it only ever took about two minutes alone with him for me to wheedle my way through to the guy he always used to be. Cheerful, excited, always a little bit nervous..." She sighed softly.

Allena frowned as she slipped the new dress on. Though it was also white and rather lovely, it wouldn't be a tragedy to spill some of Warly's food on it. "So, the new Maxwell…is he not the man you fell in love with?"

Charlie blushed. "Oh, no, it's not that. That cool cat persona he always put on – the one that became more and more natural as time went by – I've always admired that. I'm just worried that, now that it's all he really is, he's blocking me out." She looked at Allena sadly. "I'm just afraid for him. I don't want him to feel alone for the rest of his life. I just wish he would talk to me."

Allena gave her a hug. "It's frustrating when men stay mum sometimes. If it's still a problem by the time you two graduate, maybe you ought to bring it up? Or talk about it sooner, if you feel like it's pressing."

Charlie looked vaguely worried for a moment, then her expression hardened into resolve. "You know what? You're right. I've never had difficulty talking to him before. I guess I just figured he needed some space to adjust to everything. But now's not the time to just sit by and risk him distancing himself even more. I'm going to go talk to him – right now."

Allena cheered up. "There ya go. Let me know if you need backup. Oh, and be sure to wrap up before dinner starts!"

Charlie nodded, and together they headed back downstairs.

The moment her foot touched the first floor, Wilson came out from behind a pillar and swept her up into his arms. She hiccupped with surprise – she hadn't seen him – and he pecked her lightly on the lips. "Dinner is almost ready, my love. Hungry?"

"Starving," she said, then looked worriedly after Charlie, who had just spotted Maxwell talking cordially with Wes and Winona. Charlie looked back at her, gave her a thumbs up, and went to talk to Maxwell.

Maxwell may have been dismal at speaking his mind, but at least Allena could tell at a glance what was on it. The moment he caught sight of Charlie approaching him, his entire body seemed to relax slightly. The stern expression he usually wore melted to something more serene, and his shoulders dropped at least half a centimeter. Allena couldn't hear them from here, but she saw Charlie say something to him, him nod in return, said with a word to Wes and Winona the two took off towards the garden.

Allena was smiling broadly, and Wilson said, "Oh, good. That ought to be a decent opportunity."

"For what?" She asked.

Wilson grinned. "It's really not my place to say," he said airily as Allena glared at him. Then she switched tact, putting on her 'please, please, please, please?' expression, and Wilson chuckled. "Oh, alright. Let's just say that…love is abound tonight. With luck, this might not be the only wedding we get to enjoy this year."

Allena gasped. "Really?"

Wilson winked at her. "I don't know. Is a diamond ring a good indicator?"

* * *

Charlie walked with Maxwell out of the house. She wasn't going anywhere in particular. She just wanted somewhere out of earshot.

Maxwell seemed to have his own route in mind, though, and he slipped an arm around her waist and steered her towards one of the central gardens. It was nearby, and dimly lit with bright golden lights. She liked that. The dark still gave her the chills. She always remembered…things…when she was in the dark. Things that always seemed like memories that weren't her own.

She hurt people in them.

She shook the thought off. It didn't matter now. What mattered was—

"You wanted to talk about something, m'dear?"

They'd reached the destination – a grove of trees, pomegranate and peach and plum and nectarine, surrounding a circular clearing. A wooden rocking bench, something that had clearly been carved by Wolfgang, sat on one side of the clearing. On the other, a stone bird bath sat beneath a number of birdseed repositories and hummingbird feeders, all hung from an extra-large pomegranate tree which was currently fruiting, laden with huge, ripe red orbs.

Her mind went blank as she took in the beauty of the place. She wondered if Wilson and Allena often sat in the rocking bench at dusk or dawn to watch the birds. No doubt they got many of them. "Um, yeah. It's just…I've been kinda worried about you, Maxy. I just feel like you don't talk to me as much as you used to. I mean, not that I'm upset!" She added hastily as his brow furrowed. "I just…I want you to know that you can, you know? Talk to me? If you need to?"

"Charlie," he began, but she ran him over.

"I just mean that I want to make sure you don't feel alone. I mean, we used to talk so much more – not that I'm upset! I'm not, really, I'm just worried about you—"

Maxwell sighed and reached into his back pocket as she went on. "I know things have been kinda hectic since we got back, and I know that things are different than the way they used to be, and that's fine, 'cause even if everything's changed, nothing's _really_ changed, not anything important, except maybe that you don't…"

She trailed off as Maxwell took her hand and said, "Charlie, may I ask you something?"

She blinked a few times and said, "Yeah, Maxy. Anything."

His eyes locked onto hers, and they were very intense. Almost scary intense. "Do you still love me? I know that I've changed a great deal. I know I'm not the man you used to know. But in spite of that, do you still love me?"

"Of course," she said at once, without thought or hesitation. "You're the most important person in the world to me – except maybe for my sister, I guess. But yeah, Maxy. Of course I love you."

He nodded, took a deep breath…then dropped to one knee.

She froze. Like a deer in the headlights, she froze. He wasn't…?

She finally got a look at what he'd pulled out of his pocket. It was a small, black leather box. He held it up to her, flicked it open, and inside she saw a pristine diamond ring lying on a bed of white silk.

Her gaze moved from the ring to his eyes, a deep sterling silver in this low light, and he looked right at her and asked, "Charlene Cynthia Wallace, would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

For a long second, just about every muscle in her body went quaky, and she wavered on the spot. Maxwell looked like he was about to jump up and catch her, but she steadied herself. Then she blinked the tears that were starting to form away and said, "Yeah, Maxy. Yes. Absolutely yes." Then her throat closed up and she couldn't say another word.

At once, a smile appeared on Maxwell's face. It was the kind of smile that had been a lot more common in the old days, and one she hadn't seen in a long, long time. It was wide, and genuine, and completely brilliant.

He slipped the ring on her hand, stood up, wrapped an arm around her and whirled her around the clearing. A giggle bubbled up in her, and as soon as she let it out Maxwell responded in kind, laughing loudly and deeply like he hadn't in years. "Excellent. Excellent! Forgive me for being so distant, my love. I've had my demons to wrestle with, but somehow I don't think they'll be troubling me as much from now on. Now," he said, as he brought them to a halt with a short huff of air. "What do you say we go get some dinner? I've been looking forward to that bouillabaisse for weeks…not that you need to tell Warly that," he muttered quietly.

She giggled again. "Sounds good to me. We'll have him cook at our wedding, too, right?"

Maxwell smiled again, eyes bright and distant, as though he were already looking to the future...and liked what he saw. "Whatever you like, m'love. For the rest of your life, whatever you like."

* * *

Wes was watching Maxwell walk off with Charlie, and he wondered briefly what it was they were going to talk about. Very briefly. He had other things on his mind.

He'd been going back and forth on it all day, whether or not to do it today, but after Winona had made such a show of stealing the bouquet from her sister it seemed pretty obvious what the right choice was. Now he just needed the right presentation.

Winona was watching Maxwell and Charlie walk away as well, and Wes caught her attention, put his hands up in a 'wait right there' gesture, and scampered off, leaving her watching him with the quirky smile she typically reserved just for him. He loved that smile. It always made him smile. Just then, however, he was too nervous, and couldn't stop nibbling his lip. Everything had to be perfect.

He was heading over to the music player when he saw Warly walk out of the kitchen with the dinner bell. Wes course corrected, went over to him, and grabbed the bell just before the chef could ring it.

Warly looked at him in surprise and Wes mimed, _Five minutes! Just five minutes!_

Warly looked nonplussed, but sighed and said, "Alright, five minutes. But do hurry? The food won't stay hot forever!"

Wes nodded and dashed over to the iPod. He quickly skimmed through it and located just the song he'd been looking for. Ever since Winona had come back, one of the things she'd loved about modern technology was all the music she could access. She had tons of it, and she and Wes had spent hours listening to songs and picking out their favorites. Winona's favorite was one of the first ones she'd ever heard on an iPod, and this was back in the Constant – _My Way,_ by Frank Sinatra.

He put this on, covertly stowed the iPod again, and dashed back over to her.

Warly was watching him closely, and as the song started to play his eyebrows slowly rose in understanding. Wes smiled nervously and Warly gave him two thumbs up as he approached Winona.

As soon as she was looking at him he quickly tapped his chest, then touched his lips and waved the hand towards her, then shrugged.

She raised an eyebrow. "You have something you want to ask me. Shoot."

Wes took a deep, sharp breath and began miming.

First he tapped his chest again, clasped his hands in front of his heart, thumped a hand against his heart in a beating rhythm, laced his fingers together, and gestured to her.

Her face scrunched up in confusion. "You want to…live with me?"

He nodded and she said, "You already live with me, you dolt."

He nodded again and went on. He tapped his chest, clasped his hands, then put them up flat and tilted his neck as though trying to lift a great weight above him. Then he gestured to her.

"You want to…lif…no, support me?"

He nodded excitedly. Around them, the music was beginning to build.

He did another mime.

"You want to make me laugh?"

He nodded. Another mime.

"You want to…help me when I'm hurt?"

He nodded. Another.

"You want to protect me."

A nod. Another mime.

"You want to stand beside me."

A nod. More gestures.

"You want to hold me."

Another.

"You want to live with me…forever?"

He nodded. Then, as the music reached a crescendo, he pulled the little white box out of his back pocket, dropped to one knee, and held it up to her.

By now everyone had fallen silent and was watching the two of them, and a short, collective gasp when up around the room as Winona stared at the simple ring of white gold and sapphire, with two small diamonds set to either side. Winona liked sapphires.

Winona's expression was almost comical, and she finally seemed to glance up and notice the song playing. Then, as the song ended and the room stood silent, she dropped her head and started shaking it.

His heart just about froze in his chest for a moment, until she lifted her chin and he saw that she was grinning. "Well, yeah, you dolt. Of course I'll marry you. Why do you think I went to all the trouble of snagging the bouquet?"

He jumped up and wrapped his arms around her in a huge hug. She coughed slightly with the force of it, and when he let go she clapped a hand on his back and the room applauded. He glanced around to see Ms. Wickerbottom dabbing at the corner of her eyes while Webber stood by looking confused. Allena and Wolfgang were both giving him two big thumbs up, and Warly was standing in the entrance to the dining hall, chest puffed out, looking proud as could be.

Wes smiled sheepishly, held up a hand, and mimed ringing the bell.

Warly chuckled. Then he raised his hand.

_Ringalingaling!_

Everyone turned towards him. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you're all ready for it…dinner is served!"

This probably received the largest round of cheers of the night, and everyone started dashing for the dining room at once. As they did Wes saw Maxwell and Charlie slipping back into the room from the garden entrance. They both looked to be extremely happy with something, and when he looked at Maxwell questioningly, the man jerked a thumb at Charlie, held up his ring finger, and tapped it.

Wes tapped his chest and did the same mime, pointing at Winona. As the pair caught up to them he stayed behind while the girls went on to the dining room. Maxwell asked quietly, "You proposed, too?"

He nodded.

The two glanced covertly at their new fiancées to make sure they weren't looking, glanced back to each other, and exchanged a quick high-five.

Oh, what a day for love.


	69. The Epilogue

Warly sat in his office, typing away at his computer. He sent off the email order he'd been working on – five dozen eggs, fresh from the private farm down the road that supplied much of their dairy and all of their chicken product – just as a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," he called cheerfully. One of his employees poked her head through the door.

"Hi, Warly. Sorry to bother you, but we have a customer asking to see the manager. I'm not sure what he wants."

"Ah, well let us see, then!" He said as he stood. Ms. Suzy Crawford, who was one of his favorite waitresses in spite of the difficulties she always seemed to have when dealing with customer complaints, stepped aside to let him pass, and began talking nervously as they walked past the kitchen.

"Um, I'm not sure if it was about the meal, but if it was it can't have been too bad, because he ate all of it. I think I've actually seen him in here before, he complained the last time, too, but he also ate all of his food then, so I'm not sure…"

She trailed off as they emerged into the main restaurant, putting on her brightest smile and a hopeful demeanor. He nodded in approval. Hers was a look that said, 'oh, I'm sure we'll be able to get this all sorted out now! Nothing to worry about!' Very comforting to the customers.

This particular customer, however, did not want to be comforted. Warly could tell that at a glance. This customer wanted something for free.

This didn't bother him. One had to learn how to deal with all manner of customers if one wanted to be a successful restaurant manager. Well, he had, and he was.

"Good afternoon, sir," Warly Belmont said as he walked up to the table, smiling genially. "What seems to be the problem?"

The customer, a skinny man with short dark hair and an easy scowl on his face, waved at the nearly empty plate in disgust and said, "The steak was overcooked. I specifically ordered it rare, and it was at least medium. At _least."_

Warly looked at the plate in what most people would assume was sincere surprise. "Why, you had the steak? With the scalloped potatoes on the side, I believe, and the buttered green beans?"

"Yeah," the man said. Only two green beans remained on the plate, and going by the fork holes in them they'd clearly been stabbed, to be eaten, then scraped back off onto the plate and shoved to the side as though to connote disgust. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Warly put on a most perplexed expression and said, "Why, I'm not sure what I can do about it. You seem to have eaten the whole thing already! Did you enjoy it?"

"Enjoy it?" The man blustered, face flushing slightly pink. "It was overcooked! How am I supposed to enjoy an overcooked steak? Look, I want the meal for free."

Warly now wore an expression of sympathetic distress. "My dear man, whyever did you not call one of our waiters and have it returned to the kitchen? We would have been pleased to have made you another!"

"I didn't want to be a bother."

"But monsieur, we live to be bothered! We love to be bothered! If there's a problem with the meal, please, bother us!"

A couple of customers had noticed the altercation, as well as Warly's impassioned plea, and were now watching with mild interest and perhaps some amusement.

The customer's flush spread past his cheeks and towards his wispy sideburns. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could Warly said, "You know, monsieur, why don't I fetch you a drink? Perhaps a cup of hot saké to calm the stomach, or a nice strawberry dessert wine to wash the meal down?"

"I have to drive home!"

"Then perhaps a dessert, on the house? A slice of peach cobbler? A cup of creamy custard? If you are too full, I would be happy to have it wrapped up so you can take it with you. Or," he added as the customer got ready for one last raging attempt at a free meal. "If dessert does not suit you, why don't I have miss Crawford bring you a voucher for a discounted meal on your next visit?"

The man stood up in a huff. "Forget it. I'm leaving."

Warly raised an eyebrow, and the man's flush deepened. He yanked a twenty out of his pocket, slapped it on the table, and said, "See if you ever get me as a customer again!"

As he stalked towards the door, Warly called, "Well, if you do decide to return, we will be ready with that coupon!"

The man's blush finally made the home stretch, covering his ears in a crimson hue, and he stormed out the front doors.

Warly chuckled very lightly and turned back to Miss Crawford, whom he could see was upset by the whole confrontation. He also noticed one of the customers at a nearby table looking slightly alarmed, and he nodded to her. "Forgive me, madame," he said, noting the ring on her left hand as well as the man sitting across from her. "I hope that altercation was not overly distracting."

It clearly had been, but the woman waved a hand rapidly and said, "Oh, not at all!" And went back to her meal.

Warly and Ms. Crawford made their way back to the kitchen and he called to his dessert chef, "Dion! Would you prepare a dozen peach cobbler samplers, a dozen chocolate brownies, and a few cups of vanilla ice cream? We had an altercation in the lounge, and I don't want my customers leaving with a bitter taste in their mouths."

"On it, sir!"

Warly turned to Ms. Crawford and asked, "Tell me, dear Suzy, what is the first rule in our line of work?"

She gulped. "The customer is always right!"

He nodded thoughtfully, then said, "And what is the last rule in our line of work?"

She blinked. "Um. I don't know."

"The last rule in our line of work is…the customer isn't necessarily _always_ right." He winked at her.

She looked a bit confused at that. "So…what should we do if he comes back in? He kind of underpaid."

Warly's eyebrows shot up, again in mock surprise. "Why, if he comes back? Just let him know that we remember him from last time, offer the promised coupon, and insist very loudly and proudly that whatever he orders will be prepared perfectly, as ordered, and by the head chef himself!"

She paused, seeming to think about that. _He_ was the head chef, and it would be fairly difficult for any customer to argue that the most renowned chef within a hundred miles had botched his meal, however it turned out. The man would be pretty hard-pressed to call for a free meal.

She smiled slightly and said, "Yes, sir."

"Very good," he said. "Oh, and be sure to pick up a peach cobbler from Dion. It is your favorite, yes?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "How did you know that?"

As Dion brought the lovingly arranged dessert platter over, Warly smiled down at his protégé. "Mademoiselle, cooking is my life's great love. And the great secret to making a living out of it is not only preparing the finest meals you can…it is tending to the specific tastes of every person to pass through your doors."

He took the platter and waltzed out the door, leaving Ms. Crawford to enjoy the peach cobbler that Dion had just deposited in her hand.

He made his way first to the woman who had been so clearly bothered by the altercation. "Pardon me, madame; might I offer you a free dessert sample? As an apology for any distress caused by that earlier altercation."

She looked quite surprised and said, "Oh! No, no it's quite…wait, is that peach cobbler?"

He smiled and nodded, and she said, "Well, I suppose…oh, alright then. Thank you!"

She took a sample and the portly man across from her, presumably her husband, happily took a brownie. As Warly walked to the next table to repeat the offer, he heard the man say quietly, "Good service here!"

It was the kind of compliment that was meant to sound covertly whispered, while still being just capable of reaching the subject's ears. Warly smiled. He always enjoyed those compliments. Better than the loud, booming, overt ones – not that he ever disenjoyed those.

He went table to table offering apologetic sweets, and by the time he returned to his office he was thoroughly satisfied that his customers would leave with nothing but a positive memory of the day.  
He reached his office just as Ms. Crawford was heading back to work, having finished her cobbler and resultingly back in her good mood. He had learned that happy customers were not the only thing of importance in this business – happy employees were vital, too.

He still remembered the day he'd learned his lesson about how to treat those who worked under him. He'd been so surprised by poor Allena's flight from his kitchen, and upon reviewing the lesson later he'd also been quite embarrassed. The lesson, however, had been well learnt, and after some practice volunteering for local cooking classes in the area he'd found himself far more effective teaching methods.

He'd opened his own restaurant not long after Allena and Wilson's wedding three years prior, and Constant Delight had quickly risen to become one of the most popular restaurants in the city. He was already considering expanding to another location, perhaps in one of the neighboring cities. He would need to spend a good deal of time away from home to get it up and running, but he thought Webber and Wickerbottom would be able to manage without him for a while.

Ms. Wickerbottom, though aging rapidly, was still quite spry and sharp-minded. He was glad. The deterioration of the mind was one of the most dreadful facets of aging, and it looked as though she would be spared the worst of it. This did not surprise him. No matter how quickly the knowledge might leak out of her head in the coming years, she would no doubt replace it handily with all the books she read.

He glanced at the clock. The restaurant would close in another hour and a half, and then, after seeing all of his employees safely on their way home, he would head back to his own abode. He would pull up the long driveway, waving to Allena and Wilson if they happened to be out on the porch, then pull up to his own home. He would walk in, hang his jacket on the coatrack just inside the door, and head down the hall. Ms. Wickerbottom, sitting in her reading chair in the living room, always reserved, would ask him how his day had been. They would chat for a while, and shortly thereafter she would retire for the evening.

Webber would be even more reserved. Just a year or two ago, the boy would likely have raced to the door to greet him and he would have been tackled in a hug. Lately, however, Webber had been more withdrawn. It seemed that their spider boy was finally beginning to mature. And by 'mature', he meant 'begin the phase of mental adolescence', which also seemed to involve spiking his spider-hair and wearing odd jewelry on his extra legs, as well as clinging, finely-woven sleeveless web shirts. Oh, and listening to 'rebellious music' like Rockin' Robin and Wake up Little Suzy.

Still, Warly always saw the boy's head poke covertly out the window when he pulled up on his bike. His return was always awaited, even when it was awaited quietly.

He catered to paperwork for the last of the operating hours – running a business was not all pancakes and pierogi – and the next time he looked up he realized that it was nearly twenty minutes past closing time.

He went out to see the restaurant mostly shut up, the last pair of customers departing – an elderly man and woman who visited once a week and always came a little late because they enjoyed the evening hush – and the kitchen spotless in preparation for the next day.

Dion finished folding a fresh towel, draped it over the appropriate rack, saw him, waved goodnight, and took off out the employee exit.

Warly meandered over to the front counter where the main greeter was just locking up the register and asked, "I hope all went well today?"

"Well as ever," she said brusquely. Though always pleasant enough to the customers, Caroline Hertz was a sharpish woman when she wasn't on the clock. "Other than that golden ray of sunshine you had earlier. What a tramp."

That's what she called all difficult customers once the day was over and done with – tramps. Warly shrugged and said, "Yes, well, such challenges are to be expected from time to time. We hold up as best we can…and make sure it doesn't spill over onto the other customers. Can't have anyone complaining about the service!"

She rolled her eyes. "The day your customers complain about the service will be the day you die, Mr. Belmont. The sane ones, anyways. Well, that about does it for me. I'm heading home. See you tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow then, Caroline."

She grabbed her things and departed. He had everything ready to go himself; he would just wait a few more minutes to be sure his remaining employees were safely on their way home.

His last few chefs departed, leaving only Ms. Crawford. She seemed to be fiddling with the strap of her purse, and as the door swung closed she looked up, saw that they were alone, and walked over. "Pretty alright day today. I guess you're about ready to head home?"

He nodded. "Time to go get some dinner for myself. A nice chicken bouillon tonight, I think."

"That sounds great," she said, and he noticed that she seemed a little nervous about something. He wondered what it was. Perhaps she was looking to ask for a raise? Goodness knows that was always a nerve-racking request. He remembered one of his first jobs…

Ah, but now wasn't the time to reminisce. "Something on your mind, dear Suzy?"

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Just thinking about dinner myself. That peach cobbler was great, but I'm ready for a real meal."

"Mmm," he rumbled. "Nothing like sitting down to a nice dinner at the end of a long day."

"Yeah," she said agreeably as they made for the exit. "Nothing like it. Always a bit tiring to cook it, though, after a hard day's work. Though I guess it doesn't bother you. You love cooking. I might just pick something up on the way home, myself. Maybe some soup from Panera's."

"Ah, I've always enjoyed their broccoli cheddar. And their clam chowder is quite impressive, when they serve it."

"Oh, they're serving it tonight," she said quickly. "Every Friday, you know? And I know they're still open."

He opened the door for her, and she slipped out. He locked up behind him – the front was already locked, Caroline did that every evening – and paused for a moment to enjoy the cool evening air on his face.

Suzy was still lingering, looking a bit awkward, as though there was something else she wanted to say, but after a long moment of silence she deflated a bit and said, "Well, goodnight Warly."

"Goodnight, Suzy," he said kindly, watching in mild confusion as she turned to leave, walking quickly, head down.

He stared after her, trying to figure out what exactly that encounter had been about, when a possibility clicked in his mind. She'd wanted to get him on his own, asked about his appetite, mentioned a nearby eatery that was still open this late…

He considered. She was an employee, which always held certain risks, but still…

He shrugged and threw caution to the winds. "Ah, Suzy!"

She stopped just before turning the corner to head to the bus stop, and he walked easily over to her and asked, "As much as I enjoy cooking, I'd gladly trade it for some pleasant company tonight. What do you say we get a bowl of chowder together at Panera's? My treat?"

Her face lit up, much to his relief, and she nodded. "I'd love to!"

He smiled back down at her, pleased that he'd read the signs correctly. "Splendid! And I'd be happy, of course, to provide a ride home, as the busses will surely stop running soon."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you," she said, clearly relieved.

He dipped his head and they headed to his parking spot. He opened the rear compartment on his bike, a sleek cobalt Harley-Davidson, and pulled out a guest helmet, the one Allena always wore when he offered her rides into town. He handed it over, hopped on, and a moment later felt her slide onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms solidly around his waist.

"Hold on tight," he said, revved the engine, and pulled out smoothly onto the road.

He felt her arms tighten around him, eliciting a cheery bout of butterflies in his stomach, and he decided that this was alright. His return home would be awaited, yes…but tonight, perhaps his friends could wait just a little longer.

* * *

Wes signed out the next set of instructions to his assistant.

_Could you take care of the audio edits? I'll do the visual effects._

She nodded, signed an update to Tyson, who was in charge of their raw data, and requested that he send all the files she needed to her computer. He gave her a thumbs-up and got on it.

Over the last three years Wes's site had boomed. Pantomime was his biggest draw, but he'd now expanded out to dance, collaborations with other internet sensations, and he also had two very popular series that he sold in sets for a pretty decent price – ASL and LSF (Langue des Signes Française, or French Sign Language)

He'd learned proper sign language since returning from the Constant, as it made it far easier to communicate with the rest of the world, especially given that he still adamantly refused to write. The one exception he'd made in the last three years was for his wedding vows, and that had been well worth it. Winona, as she periodically reminded people, wasn't a cryin' sort of gal…but he wasn't a writin' sort of guy, either; yet, he had written, and she had wept. It had been a wonderful ceremony.

At that moment he was just wrapping up production on his latest piece – a visual rendition of the song Sweet Tangerine by the Hush Sound. He was dedicating it to Allena for her birthday, as that song happened to be one of her favorites and she loved his videos.

He was lucky enough to be able to work mostly from home, though he did go out on trips periodically to record in some of the stunning locations California had to boast. The previous year he'd gone on a tour of the American southwest with Wolfgang, and he'd recorded more than a dozen videos along the way. Bryce Canyon, the slot canyons of Arizona, the Green River in Utah, the Havasu reservation – they'd had to get special permission to do that, as they'd mostly shut it down to tourists just a year after Allena had traveled there in her senior year of high school. After she'd shown him numerous pictures of it, however, he'd gone the extra mile to work it into their trip. What an adventure that had been.

That trip, and all the roughing it they had done, had really brought back old memories – not all of them good. It had also reminded them of how far they'd come, and how much they had to appreciate in their new lives. He'd valued that trip immeasurably.

His audience had also valued it, as he'd been happy to note the collective billion views the series had generated. He'd even been invited onto a late night talk show, which had gone swimmingly and generated a lot more publicity. He'd hated it, and had sworn not to do another, no matter how much they offered him.

That said, those last two windfalls had been enough to get them into a very nice financial situation. Nice enough for Winona to finally start up her business. Although it was still small, it was ragingly successful. She'd made her big bucks not just making and selling appliances, but also with some pretty great advertising. She'd taken a good deal of time researching her competitors, and had managed to uncover some juicy secrets. She'd garnered a lot of attention describing the ways current big names built their appliances to degrade in very specific ways over a set period of time, and boy did they hate her for that. The average Joe loved it, though, as it tended to validate what everyone had been muttering about for years, but no one had been able to prove.

Wes had helped her out with the advertising aspects of her business, as he'd become a pretty big internet name and therefore knew the ins and outs of getting videos viewed and shared – particularly, how to circumnavigate the obstacles big companies like YouTube put in your way when your wealthier rivals slipped a well-placed bribe into their pockets. No way was Wojcicki deranking his Winona.

So, Winona was doing well for herself. Her accounts had run in black for the first time the previous year, and this year business had been skyrocketing. Things were going great.

His employees – he was very proud to be employing a whopping seven people – had all taken off by then, all except for Tyson and Gretchen, his main assistants and two best friends. Aside from the others, of course.

Tyson waved at him and signed, _I sent the files off. Do you need anything else?_

Wes shook his head and signed, _Have a good weekend!_

Tyson nodded, stoic as usual, packed up all his stuff and took off. Gretchen was still tidying up the studio and signed, _What are you going to do this weekend?_

 _Spend time with Winona,_ he replied, smiling happily. Then his smile dropped off a bit. _If she's feeling better._

 _She went to the doctor today, didn't she?_ Gretchen asked.

Wes nodded, now frowning worriedly. He shook it off, though and put a smile back on. Winona was probably fine. She'd just been unusually tired lately, and for Winona, that was very uncommon. When he'd come back from a shoot around noon a few days prior to find her home from work – she had a plant in town – he'd insisted that she book a doctor's visit. They both went in for yearly checkups, and her last one had been ten months ago, so she wasn't too averse.

Gretchen lightly patted his shoulder. _Don't worry,_ she signed. _I'm sure she's fine. Probably just a cold._

Wes shrugged. Winona didn't get sick.

Once Gretchen was all packed up and gone, Wes started meandering around checking the equipment. He headed over to the computer and pulled everything he had to go over, started trying to chart a plan of attack for it all, then sighed heavily. He was too anxious to work.

He changed tact. He would clean up the house. Winona loved coming home to a clean house, but she also hated cleaning. They'd divided up the chores between them, but Wes occasionally took over for her, which she greatly appreciated. Starting up a business was hard work, and he'd already gotten over that hump. Winona needed the extra support just then.

He swept and mopped the floors, which were her least favorite chores, then cleaned the kitchen. He tidied up the bathroom and debated doing the tub, decided he didn't want to, and did it anyways. They were going into winter, and Wes liked his nice long baths in winter.

All the time he did all of this he kept checking the clock. Winona ought to have been home by then, right?

He vacuumed the carpet in their room. Glanced at the clock. Checked the plants on the patio. Dry. He watered them. Checked the clock. Did the dishes. Checked the clock.

The clock wasn't helping anything. He went outside, intent on doing a bit of gardening – away from the clock – and began with sweeping the front walk.

As he did this he heard a metallic _thump, thump, thump_ making its way over to him from the side yard, and he paused and looked up from his work. A moment later, a border collie-sized metal rhinoceros came around the corner.

Wes smiled, set down his broom, and patted the miniature clockwork rook on the horn as it thumped to a halt in front of him. It droned contentedly.

Winona, just a month after they'd settled down in this home of theirs for good, had asked Wes if he wouldn't be opposed to a pet. He'd been agreeable. The next day, she'd shut herself up in her workshop and had spent the next five solid days in there working on something she wouldn't let Wes see. When she'd finally come out, she'd been accompanied by Rotor.

All those years ago in the Constant, back when they'd gone on their expedition to the Ruins, Winona had been unwilling to leave her clockwork friend behind. To that effect, she'd removed its memory banks, carefully stored them away, and had kept them safe until she could build a new body to house them. Well, she had – though it was a much smaller body than the original – and when Rotor had come online, he'd recognized Winona instantly and had been their faithful mecha-pet ever since.

For the most part he just enjoyed wandering around the yard, charging birds and cats and raccoons that wandered onto their property, but at least once a day he or Winona took some time to play with him. Wes decided to do so now – after all, chores weren't really helping him take his mind off Winona's lateness.

He went and got Rotor's favorite toy – a simple red cloak – and went out to the large stretch of open grass where they always played. Rotor whined in excitement the whole way, and immediately took up his spot about fifteen feet away. Wes held out the cloak obligingly, and Rotor charged.

At the last moment, Wes whipped the cloak out of the way, and Rotor squealed in playful frustration, trotting off and turning around for another go. Wes flapped the cloak tauntingly, and Rotor charged it again.

Rotor was very fast, though not very good at changing directions. He'd killed a fair few raccoons and skunks, though cats were far too agile for him. Once, a local burglar had hopped the fence to their property, and Rotor had broken one of his legs and three of his ribs before Winona had come out to see what all the screaming and ruckus was about and called their protector off. The unsavory fellow had survived, and needless to say, had never come back.

Finally, after another fifteen minutes of this, Wes heard a vehicle coming up the driveway. His head snapped around, and he quickly folded the cloak up when he saw it was her. He jogged over to the truck just as it pulled in. Rotor followed him for a moment, then paused when he spotted a stray cat on the edge of their property. Intent on a bit more exercise, he turned around and began stalking loudly over to it, leaving Wes to greet Winona alone.

The truck window was down, and he poked his head in as soon as she'd come to a stop. He was relieved to see that she at least looked fine, and he smiled at her, hoping for a quick answer; but all she did was glance over at him mysteriously. She grabbed a bag of groceries off the seat which he saw contained, among other things, a prescription – that explained why she was late – and rolled up the window as he pulled his head out.

She didn't say anything as she went inside, and Wes's anxiety, which had dissipated upon her arrival, returned full-force. What was wrong with her? Why wasn't she talking to him?

She walked into the house and he was hot on her heels. Before she'd even put her fanny pack down, he was signing at her, but she ignored him as she strode into the kitchen and set her bag of groceries down. She rooted through it for a moment, pulled something out, and turned around to look at him.

She placed a hand on her hip and held up what he saw was a bun, probably from the local bakery. Then she raised an eyebrow at him, tapped her foot, and waited expectantly.

His mind was racing. What did she want from him? Had he done something wrong?

Wait – she was being quiet. Maybe…she wanted to mime something to him? She'd done it before, with varying degrees of success.

He blinked, pulled up a kitchen stool, and sat down with his chin in his hands to watch.

She nodded, satisfied, and she held up four fingers.

Four words. He nodded. _Got it._

She pointed to the bun. That probably meant 'bun'. He gave her a thumbs up.

She walked over, opened their oven, and tossed the bun inside. Then she turned around and looked at him, tapping her foot again.

Huh? Bun in the ov—

His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and his chin fell off his hands.

She smiled sideways at him, pulled the prescription out, and tossed it to him. He read the label. Prenatal vitamins.

He jumped up and started pacing around the kitchen, running his hands through his hair, trying to wrap his mind around exactly what she had just conveyed to him.

She was pregnant. He was going to be a dad.

_He was going to be a dad!_

He whirled around to try to mime this to her, but his hands weren't working. They were shaking. They were shaking so badly he probably couldn't have signed given her a thumbs-up, let alone something like that. Wow. Wow. Wow!

Finally, he settled on a response. He went over to her, wrapped his arms around her, and grinned wildly.

She laughed. "Yeah, to be fair, that's about how I reacted, too. So, you ready to be a dad?"

In response to this he let her go and began jumping around the kitchen pumping his fists in the air, which caused Winona to laugh even harder. "I take it you're happy."

He ran out of the room to the main door, turned around, and did a series of cartwheels down the hall.

By now she was clutching her stomach laughing. _Was he happy? Was he happy?_

He ran back to her, swept her up, and began whirling her madly around the room. A kid. Son? Daughter? Too early to tell, surely, but _wow!_

He paused. They'd need a room. They hadn't really talked much about it, hadn't planned for this at all, but now Wes ran upstairs to one of their extra rooms. It was full of Winona's spare parts and some of the equipment he used for his videos, but it was right next to their bedroom, so that would probably be best.

He pointed at it and, without him having to clarify anything, Winona said, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. You want to spend the weekend getting it cleaned out? I think we can fit at least half of this stuff in the garage, and I can take some of those parts in to work."

He nodded rapidly. A dad. He was going to be a dad.

Suddenly, a wave of worry, so great it could almost be classified as panic, washed over him. He was going to be a _dad?_ How in the world was he supposed to _do_ that?

He looked to Winona, dismayed, and signed, _I don't know how to do this!_

She snorted. "Yeah, I don't either, but hey – how hard could it be?"

_Very hard!_

She sighed. "Yeah, alright, we might be in over our heads. But come on – after all we've been through, I think we can handle parenthood. We'll make it work."

Wes was nodding, though his mind was starting to swim with everything this new revelation entailed.

He leaned against the wall, slightly dizzy, and Winona came over and joined him. They were both looking into the spare room. The room that would belong to the kid. His kid. Their kid.

He was going to be a dad.

They both just leaned there, staring into the room for a long, quiet while. Then Wes came to a conclusion. He rolled up his sleeves, pushed himself off the wall, and stepped forward. This happened to be a case where one of Winona's favorite adages came in handy. If you're feeling scared, anxious, or confused, there's only one good cure for it.

Get to work.

* * *

By the time night fell that evening, the small room was 100% empty. They'd made a list of everything they would need and all the work that it would require – thorough cleaning, new carpets, new paintjob, so on and so forth – but that could wait until tomorrow. For now…

Winona was lying sprawled out on their king-sized bed in her casual blue cotton pajama bottoms and plain white sleepshirt. Wes had just emerged from the bathroom, and as he walked by their laundry basket he tossed his washcloth in. He went through the things like tissues – he could only take the greasepaint off so many times before the cloth needed a run through the laundry.

In years past he'd worn the makeup every day, every night. Even in the Constant one of the first things he'd done once he'd established a secure food supply was find a substitute for his normal face paint – namely a concoction of ground bone and certain types of oil, a berry-based dye for the rouge, and a charcoal-oil mix for the lipstick. One night, however, while they'd been lying together on the cusp of sleep, she'd asked him,

"Why do you always wear the makeup?"

He'd shrugged easily, the same answer he'd always given everyone. She'd rolled over and looked at him sharply.

"Nah, no shrugging it off. Why do you always wear that stuff?"

He'd been surprised, and had signed,

_Does it bother you?_

"No," she'd replied. "I just want to know why you always wear it."

He'd frowned and raised his hands to sign an answer, but his hands hadn't moved.

Why did he always wear the makeup? Not just in public, not just morning to night, but _always._

Winona had fallen asleep shortly after realizing that he didn't have an answer for her, but Wes had lain awake all night. His mind had been drawn back to when he'd first begun the practice, and it hadn't taken him long to remember why he had.

The next morning he'd gotten up early, taken a shower, and washed the makeup off. Face, lids, lips, everything. He'd stared at his face in the mirror, wondering how long it had been since he'd seen it like that.

Winona had been fairly shocked when he'd come out to breakfast with a clean face. He hadn't even removed the makeup for their wedding, after all. Then he'd sat down and explained it to her – why he'd always worn it.

It hadn't struck him as a groundbreaking choice or anything. Not at the time. He'd been used to wearing it most days as part of his routine, but in the later years of his mother's illness, when things had just been getting worse and worse and worse, he'd found it harder and harder to maintain an outwardly cheerful attitude. He never cried in front of his mother; he'd vowed that he would never even show her the slightest hint of his distress. But that promise had been getting harder and harder for him to keep. The day his mother had told him she'd lost her ability to sing had been the day he'd very nearly broken it.

That evening, after he'd shed his tears and stood in front of the mirror for a while, he'd put on his makeup. Then he'd smiled.

He'd realized that it was easy for him to smile while he was in the makeup, because he did it every single day as part of his art. When he was performing, he was someone else. He was someone happier, someone who had to be happier, because his job was to make others happy. While he was in the makeup, joy wasn't an objective – it was the default.

From that point on, he'd begun wearing the makeup every day, all day. His mother hadn't minded. In fact, it had delighted her, which delighted him. He'd worn it to one of his father's fancy political parties, adamantly ignoring all the snickers and whisperings behind his back, and his father had been furious. He'd never invited Wes to another party.

Then his mother had passed. Still, he'd refused to remove the makeup. He couldn't possibly have at that point. He'd worn it to her funeral, and his father had taken him aside afterwards, punched him square in the face, and told him to leave and never come back.

That hadn't been a difficult request to oblige. Maxwell had found him within the hour.

Winona, normally the type to rage and bluster on his behalf at such a story, had just sat there, stricken. Then she'd moved over next to him, laid her head on his shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to go upstairs and put it back on.

He'd signed no. She'd asked why.

_Because I don't need it to be happy anymore._

And it was true. He didn't.

He still wore it daily as he was so thoroughly accustomed to it, and at any rate it was part of the persona he'd cultivated, but now he took it off every night before bed. He still remembered that first night he'd gone to bed with a bare face. Winona had lain beside him, staring at him with avid interest, and she'd spent an hour running her fingers over that newly-smooth skin, soft and sensitive from all the years it had been spared the wear and tear of the elements. It had been a very pleasant sensation. It still was.

He stripped off his black-and-red striped shirt and tossed it in the laundry hamper as well (he had a dozen more in the closet). Then he went over, hopped on the bed beside her, rolled over, and propped his head up so he could gaze at her.

Her mouth stretched wide in a yawn. The she looked up at him, scowled lightly, pushed his face away and said, "Oh, quit lookin' at me with that dopey expression. Honestly, you look that one of those sappy Disney princes from all of Allena's movies."

Allena invited them over for movie night at least once a month, and a few months back they'd done a Disney marathon. Neither of them had ever seen a Disney movie, as the very first one – Snow White and the Seven Dwarves – had come out only a year before Wes had vanished, and hadn't quite made it to France before he had. Or if it had, he'd never seen it.

He rolled backwards off the bed, hopped up, and mimed trotting around the room on a pony, chest puffed out comically. He drew to a halt beside the bed, dismounted, and bowed deeply at the waist with a great flourish of the hand. Winona snorted, unimpressed.

Wes jerked his head up, looked around fearfully, then drew himself up to his full height. He pulled an invisible sword from his invisible scabbard, turned, and began doing battle with an invisible dragon.

Winona snorted again, but this time he swore he heard a bit of laughter in it. He whirled around as though struck by a mighty blow, clutched at his chest, and dropped to the floor right beside the bed.

He heard Winona roll over and he quickly closed his eyes and let his expression go slack as she leaned over the bed to get a good look at him.

"Oh, no, Prince Charming has been slain, whatever will I do?" She said, voice totally lackluster.

He began puckering his lips. _Kiss me!_

Now Winona laughed outright, and the next thing he felt was a pillow landing on his face. "Sorry Prince Charming, no dice. Now get your ass in bed."

Wes hopped up, grinning, and he stretched and yawned before tossing back the blankets and crawling in. He clicked off the lamp beside his bed, Winona did hers, then she said, "You know, I've gotta say – you might not have a dad-ucation, but I think you're gonna do just fine. Goodness knows you'll be able to make 'em laugh."

Wes rolled over and wrapped a friendly arm around her. Then she said, "There is just one thing, though. You got the story wrong."

He felt her roll over and wrap an arm around him as well. Her rough, calloused hand snaked over his stomach, eliciting a sharp breath from him, and she leaned down and said quietly, "In every movie I saw, it's the _prince_ who comes to kiss the _girl."_

Wes smiled in the dark as he rolled over. He couldn't say no to that.

* * *

Maxwell was sitting in the large, comfortable leather desk chair that he frequently spent all day rolling back and forth between his draft tables and his computer, but as he looked at the clock he scowled, pushed himself back, and stood up.

He rolled his neck and shoulders, which were both rather stiff and painful. Not as bad as they'd been in years past – years of regular chiropractic work, as well as a few minor surgeries, had dealt with the worse of the damage that had been caused by a century of sitting in a hard chair. The damnable thing had been made to keep him alive, but it hadn't done much else besides that.

He walked over to the window, pulled the curtain aside, blinked at the glaring summer light, and began scanning the grounds once his eyes had adjusted. It didn't take him long to find just what he was looking for. A figure out in the garden, currently bent over some chrysanthemum. Or were those rhododendrons? Ugh. He could never remember the names of all those plants.

He watched as she stood up, nodded at her good work, picked up a bucket of lilies beside her, and started off in a different direction.

He turned away, checked his work to be sure he didn't need to save anything, and decided he could leave it all there as was. He stepped out into the hall, locked the door behind him – he didn't like the idea of anyone entering his office while he was away – and hastily pressed himself against the door as a couple of handymen came by carrying a massive, ornate cuckoo clock.

"Sorry Mr. Carter," one grunted, slightly red in the face. The clock was solid wood and filled with heavy brass gears. It was worth a small fortune.

"Quite alright," he said smoothly as they passed. There was a time when he might have happily chewed the man's head off, but a few years of domestic life had mellowed him more than he possibly could have expected. He wasn't the man he'd been prior to the Constant, nor would he ever be again…but he also wasn't the man the Shadow had made him into. Not anymore.

He stepped down the regal staircase and scanned the entrance hall. The downstairs was essentially complete, though the hardwood entrance floors had yet to be installed, and they wouldn't be until the major aspects of upstairs construction were complete. No point in installing fine floors if they were just going to get scratched all to hell by the odd clumsy construction worker.

He made his way down the stairs, the railings all cherrywood carved with vines, birds, and serpents, and glanced up appreciatively at the newly installed chandelier. It was one of the old-fashioned designs, all gold and drapes of fine crystal. It was of modern make, though, and the lighting it provided was superb.

He'd been in favor of doing the entire house in darker colors, lots of walnut, but Charlie's tastes ran towards the lighter end of the spectrum. In the end they had found a compromise that satisfied them both, and had decided on a mixture that included a good amount of cherry – a vibrant color, easy to manipulate with proper lighting. Most of the common rooms, the parlor and the dining room, for instance, were done in cherry. The guest rooms predominantly chestnut, a slightly darker shade. Maxwell's studies and his lounge were done in walnut, yet darker. Charlie's sewing room, boudoir, and sun parlor were all done in maple, white oak, and a bit of pine.

The house – though manor was really a better term for it, if not mansion – was decorated heavily with hardwood flooring, paneling, and furniture. Gold and brass fixtures were also very common, and there was a good deal of space for artwork on the walls and sculptures in the alcoves as they acquired them. For now, they were just focusing on the basics. The accessories would come in time. Except for the cuckoo clock, that was. He'd seen it a few years prior when he'd been touring a series of old manors in Massachusetts for design ideas, and he hadn't been able to resist it. It had been in a sorry state, having been left to rot in one of the older manors, but the family of four who jointly owned the property had been having some financial trouble, and he'd persuaded them to sell it to him for a hefty sum in spite of their insistences that it was thoroughly and dangerously haunted. After having it refurbished, he'd put it in storage, where it had been for the last three years. He was glad to see it finally moved in, ghost or no.

He moved down one of the halls to the smallest of the libraries, looked around to be sure no one was watching, and reached for a red-bound tome on agriculture. Pressing it in caused a notable click to come from the hardwood paneling to the bookshelf's right. He walked over, pushed on it, and it smoothly revolved outward.

He stepped outside, smiling smugly to himself, and sent the false wall spinning back to its resting position. Twisting an iron bird perched on a railing just beside the wall's false stonework would reopen it, if he cared to reenter that way. The new home was full of such secret passages – more, even, than Charlie knew about, and she knew it, too. She would enjoy finding them through the years. Just the previous week he'd had to stifle laughter when he'd come around the corner of one of their upstairs halls and caught her gently tugging on a light fixture situated at head-height. She'd seen him, blushed furiously, and explained that she'd just been making sure it was situated firmly. It had looked crooked to her.

He'd accepted the explanation. The fixture hadn't been a secret doorknob, though. Now, had she tilted the portrait to its left, however…

He came out of the house just behind a gazebo on the outer edges of the garden and made his way past it to the main path, all crushed white granite lined with roses. He'd made his preference clear – red roses only – but Charlie had assured him that a wider variety would really be ideal. She'd been right, of course. She always was when it came to gardens.

He eyed a particularly stunning pink rose, a Peace variety, he believed, and considered it. Yes, Charlie had been right. Variety was really the way to go with roses, and how many kinds there were in the modern world of plant hybrids. He'd only ever cared for the red ones, but this pink variety Charlie had found…oh, and the orange ones, too! Truly a work of art. He always brought a bouquet of orange roses to Winona on her birthday when the two of them went to visit, as they were supposed to symbolize blazing energy and enthusiasm and it made Charlie happy to see the two of them getting along. He doubted whether he and Winona would ever really like each other, but they'd long since agreed, through mutual consent, to at least pretend. For Charlie's sake.

He slid a small, sharp pocketknife out of his sleeve and clipped the rose with six inches of stem. He shaved the thorns off and took a quick sniff. Not really the sweet-smelling kind, but its appearance more than made up for it. He'd seen sunsets far less vibrant than the petals of that flower.

Though the grounds were sprawling, he seldom had trouble finding Charlie, hard at work ensuring the sprawl was ordered enough to strike the perfect balance between wild and well-maintained. He seldom had trouble finding her because she often sang as she worked, and now all he had to do was follow his ears to the sound of The Crew Cuts.

There she was, bent over a fresh patch of dark earth, making a home for the stunning golden blooms she'd picked out from the nursery just down the road the previous day. She was digging in time to the rhythm of her song. "Hey nonny ding-dong, alang-alang-alang…boom ba-doh, ba-doo ba-doodle ay…Oh, life could be a dream…if I could take you up in paradise up above…"

"If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love, life could be a dream sweetheart," he finished, causing her to jump slightly in surprise and turn to take him in.

She watched him with dancing eyes as he waltzed up to her, continuing the song. "Oh, life could be a dream, if only all my precious plans would come true. If you would let me spend my whole life loving you…"

"…life could be a dream, sweetheart," they finished together, and as she stood, he swept her up in his arms and whirled her around none-too-gracefully on the narrow stone walkway, careful not to step on any of the plants she had so painstakingly situated already.

She was dressed in scuffed blue work jeans and a long, light green shirt that was already fairly dirty and torn. It had been a long week for the both of them. A wide-brimmed straw hat sat lopsidedly on her head, and as he drew her in, he tilted it back and out of the way so he could steal a quick kiss. It was eagerly returned, and he smiled.

"It's getting on towards lunchtime, m'dear," he said as he let her go and stepped back. "Care to join me for a meal in the conservatory?"

"Lunch time already?" She asked, then squinted up at the sun and whistled. "Wow. It's past noon already, huh? Yeah, I guess we better get something to eat. Hey, what is that you have there?"

He put on a confused expression. "Hmm? Come again? I've no idea what…oh! This?"

He held out the rose to her, and she positively beamed. "A Mardi Gras. Those are my favorites, you know."

He scowled at the bloom as she took it from him. "Mardi Gras. I thought this was a Peace rose. Honestly, Charlie, how do you keep them all straight in your head?"

She laughed, and the sound reminded him of the silver wind chimes that hung all along their back porch. What a symphony they made in the fall. "It's easy enough to remember the name of something when you've been tending it for months. Now, you remember what the orange ones are called?"

His face twisted up as he racked his memory. "Something military, I think."

She nodded. "They're called, 'About Face'. And the yellow?"

"Julia Child. I recall that because I still think of that wretched real-estate agent who sold us this plot every time I look at them."

"Oh, she was just the worst, wasn't she? But we got the property eventually. Okay, how about the really vibrant pink ones?"

"Damascus rose, yes?"

"Damask, technically, but they are from Damascus. And that one?"

She pointed at one that was a very light, light pink around the outsides of the petals, fading to white and yellow on the inside.

He stared at it, hard, then snapped his fingers. _"That's_ the Peace rose.

She squealed happily and jumped up and down a few times. "Yes! You're getting so much better!"

"Who knows, maybe someday I'll be able to tell the difference between a chrysanthemum and a rhododendron," he said drily.

The house was three stories tall, plus an attic and a basement. There were plans for a greenhouse as well, so Charlie could grow certain fruits and herbs and vegetables more easily through the year, but that was a year or two down the road. For now, they were just focused on getting the main house finished and furnished.

It really was a masterpiece, his Magnum Opus. He'd been in the business of home design for just six years by then, but had made an astounding splash in his field. He'd designed a number of large, fairly expensive homes, and he was renowned for two things: one was his efficiency, as his unconventional practices (all the results of hundreds of failed attempts in the Constant through the decades) made his homes cheaper, sturdier, and more ornate than any leading competitor. The other was his aesthetic tastes – he tended to create homes that looked as though they would surely stand firm as haunted, decrepit manors for a thousand years after the families who lived in them had died horrible deaths. He'd once had a client inform him that he was looking forward to murdering his family in their new mansion just so he could have the pleasure of haunting it with them for centuries to come. Maxwell had been fairly delighted, though to his knowledge said family was still living there, happy and healthy and thoroughly un-slaughtered.

This manor, however, topped everything he'd attempted so far. He'd been working on the design with Charlie since their brief school days, and they'd only managed to come across the perfect location for it near the end of the previous year. They'd had some difficulty wresting it from the real estate agent, who had tried to double deal and sneak it off to another buyer for a hefty bribe at the last minute, but they'd gotten it.

Allena and Wilson had dropped by just the previous weekend to see how the construction was coming along, and though Wilson had been thoroughly distracted and enthralled by the prospect of looking for secret rooms – he'd managed to find just one in all the hours he'd spent exploring – Allena had been slightly less sanguine. She'd asked him where he'd gotten the money for such extravagance, and he'd brushed off her question with vague assurances relating to his work, his connections, his savvy business dealings…

The truth, of course, was that he had not earned nearly enough to afford such extravagance. Only Charlie knew where all the extra wealth he'd needed for this mansion had come from.

Back in the early days of his confinement, when the Shadow had still regarded his hope of freedom as merely amusing rather than enraging, Maxwell had recognized that when he finally managed to get home, he would likely find himself destitute. To safeguard against this, he had taken some…steps…to ensure that he would be able to live comfortably upon his return.

The only person alive who knew what he'd done was Charlie, and after some serious debate, she'd agreed to allow him to cash in on his insurance policy. Back when he'd been a relative god within the Constant, he'd created a massive trove of treasures for himself – thick, shining ingots of highest quality gold, bags of fine gems, troves of silk and finest hardwood, so on and so forth. He'd put it all in a room sealed off with a spell. The only way the room could be accessed was with a little spell of his own invention. The Shadow hadn't minded his private hoard. It had never believed that he would escape.

Now, even separated from the Constant and the power of the Shadow, he still had the power to access that room…so long as he was very, very careful. He'd learned what destruction a hastily torn portal to the Constant could wreak. With Charlie's blessing, he had used the spell to open the way to the room and had transported everything in it back to Earth.

The net worth of his trove had turned out to be in the neighborhood of $16.6 million. Mostly from the gold and gems.

He could only liquidate this trove so quickly, of course, but he'd been doing so slowly over the last three years, investing the funds, and the result was that he had more than enough to complete his dream home. Their dream home. They would get back into the business of home design once it was finished, of course, and go on doing that for as long as they cared to, but it was freeing to know that they could settle down for good whenever they wished. He was not a young man, after all.

Still, that would likely be a fair few years down the road. Maxwell loved his job. To create things, monuments to his own art, skill, and mind, structures that would last, and not be torn down in a fit of pique by some greater power…

He'd had enough of chaos. Now was the time for constancy.

"Say, the cousins are coming up tomorrow to see the house, aren't they?"

This surprising bit of news drew him out of his reverie nicely. "Ah, are they?" He asked in surprise.

She tsk'd. "Honestly, Maxy, don't you ever check the calendar? _Yes,_ they're coming up tomorrow."

"Lovely," he said automatically, but already his mind was racing. There was a great deal that would need to be prepared. Was the pool ready? Was construction still going on over there? He would need to talk to the workers…

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I was paying attention. Their rooms are all prepared, as are all of the main floor rooms. I already had the workers clean up all the supplies in the downstairs areas so the twins won't step on anything. The upstairs will be off-limits, and John and Katie will keep an eye on them, I'm sure."

He winced. "Thank you, m'dear. You know how easily these things slip my mind. Is the pool ready? Do you think the girls will want to swim?"

"I wouldn't!" She said, shivering comically. "There's been a winter breeze all day! Great for gardening, but boy would it make swimming a chill-fest! But the pool is all ready, and who knows? Maybe they'll want to swim."

"I don't want them catching a cold."

"Aw, Maxy, you're so thoughtful," Charlie teased. "You're really a great uncle. You're always so great with kids, you know that?"

"Not an uncle, m'dear, and you know full well I'm a sour old grouch."

"You're all bark and no bite. You know it, I know it, and those girls know it, too."

He growled irritably, but Charlie just laughed. She was right enough. While his dire glare could make a traveling salesman run away with his tail between his legs, nothing he ever did could convince those girls that he was anything other than a pushover.

John and Katie were his two closest living relatives, descendants of his long-dead brother, Jack. Wagstaff had been kind enough to put him in contact with them, and although Maxwell hadn't been the least bit optimistic about the meeting, he'd gone into it cordially enough under the assumption that nothing at all would come of it.

The moment the door had opened onto that family, the sight had hit him like a brick to the face. Good God, the degree to which that man resembled his brother…

Then he'd seen the two little girls poking their heads out from behind his back, and the names Abigail and Wendy had sprung to his tongue before any conscious thought had passed, and he'd had to bite down on it to keep those names in. For a moment, his family had been standing before him. The brother he'd never been able to say goodbye to; the nieces he'd never gotten the chance to meet.

Then the man had said, "Hello. You must be Maxwell, yeah? Maxwell Carter?"

He'd nodded. "And you'll be John, then. John Dresden." The Carter name had, of course, been lost. His brother Jack had had no sons, only two daughters. This man would have been the great-some-odd-grandson of Wendy. Abigail hadn't…had any children…as he'd learned from the dossier Foxworth had given him.

"That's me," John had said heartily. "And these are m'girls. Allie? Marly? You want to come out and say hi?"

Marly had shaken her head vehemently and withdrawn, though Allie had poked hers out a bit further, looking up at him curiously, almost challengingly.

Maxwell's hands had started moving before he'd even known what he was going to do, and he'd reached down and plucked a round gold coin from behind the girl's ear. He'd done the same for Marly when she'd been drawn out by her sister's ecstatic giggles, and he'd let them keep the coins as keepsakes. To his knowledge, they still had them.

That was all it had taken. He'd been a part of the family from there on out. Presto-chango. Just like magic.

They'd invited him and Charlie over for just about every holiday, and it wasn't long before the girls had begun calling him Uncle Maxwell, no matter how much he tried to explain that he was only their something-odd cousin however-many-times removed (in those words exactly, which always made them shriek with laughter). Finally, John's wife Katie had mentioned to him one day that the girls didn't have a proper uncle, as John's brother Clint had died just a year after the twins had been born, so he was more than welcome to fill the role.

He had.

Now, despite his worry about them stepping on nails or catching a cold because the heated pool wasn't heated yet, he allowed himself a smile. He truly hoped the girls would enjoy the house. He wondered how long it would take them to discover the hidden passageways in their rooms, how long it would take them to discover all the places they led? To the larder, to the garden, to each other's rooms, of course, so they could go on playing together well past bedtime.

He knew they'd love it. It would be just like magic to them. An entire house of magic.

And here he'd thought he'd sworn off such things.

* * *

Sunlight slanted through the windows of the little shop just off the main road into the city. It hit the dust motes in the air the same way it did every morning, and they glinted like gold. It was always a little dusty in the shop. That was fine. Wolfgang did not mind dusting every morning before opening time.

The delicate feather-duster ran over honey-pots carved with snuffly-nosed bears and over wooden chests carved with larks and rams and twitchy little garden creatures. Large, ornate rocking chairs sporting many designs stood, still and inviting, all along the back wall. One was done with fierce dragon designs, and an entire set of such chairs – dining room type, not rocking – stood in the back room waiting for the delivery truck that would take them off to their new home. Some customer had come in a while back and had been so taken with the dragon-chair, had asked if whole dining room set could be made like that.

_Ding!_

The light chime of a bell rang through the dusty air as first customer of the day came in. Wolfgang set the duster down and poked his head over a tall wardrobe that he had once been told looked like it would take someone to Narnia. He still did not know where Narnia was, but Allena had promised to send him the books of it. Said he would like them. Who knows, maybe he even would!

He did not recognize this customer. Definitely new by the way she looked around, all wide-eyed and curious.

He called out a mellow greeting. "Good morning! Am welcoming you to humble store. Let Wolfgang know if you have any questions, ya?"

The woman looked up, startled, and did a double-take upon seeing Wolfgang's head almost scraping the ceiling. He got many such looks.

"Oh," she said. "Pardon me, I didn't see you there. Uh, sure, thanks. Who's Wolfgang?"

"Is me!" He replied, tapping on his chest. "Is my store. And am happy to help if you have any questions, or are needing to lift any heavy things!"

"Oh," she said again. "Gotcha. Thanks."

She was distracted-looking woman with long blonde air streaked with grey, black framed glasses, and book bag slung over one shoulder. Wolfgang let her wander while he took polishing rag to a chessboard near display window. Always stayed close enough that she would not need to come looking. Not that this was hard – was not a very large store.

Wolfgang had opened Wolfgang's Woodworking five years ago, first as little shop in city, then had gotten bigger shop just outside of city. Was told that it was awful place for a shop, but had done well. Wolfgang had noticed, many rich city people took this road when they left to go to all of the rich-people places on vacation. Lake Tahoe, many national forests, few other big cities. And was right in between big city and large town where his new family lived, so he was able to visit them whenever he liked, and he often brought trinkets for the children.

Last year, for Christmas, Wolfgang had carved one little cousin a beautiful jewelry box, all done with stars and moon, sun and clouds, and two lovely pony princesses from television show she liked to watch. She had been very, very happy. Had shown all of her friends, said they all loved it, too. Another cousin had gotten chess set with carved wooden orcs and knights and such from his favorite game in place of normal pawns and pieces. Said he took it to games club at school every Friday, everyone always wanted to play.

"Pardon me, how much are these puzzle boxes?"

Wolfgang popped out from behind bookshelf covered in small animal figures, came over, and inspected. "Ah! Puzzle boxes! Big ones are seventy, medium are forty, small are twenty, tiny are ten."

"Wow. That's not too bad," she said, still inspecting one with cresting wave designs and little mirror in lid.

"Ya, ya, is good. Let Wolfgang know if you want to see any _biggest_ puzzle boxes!"

She looked at him curiously. "Uh, 'biggest' puzzle boxes?"

He reached up to shelf she had not seen, just over her head, and pulled down large box. She gaped when she saw, and he was quite happy. Biggest puzzle boxes were size of cat carriers. "Have many different compartments, separate puzzle for each one," he explained. "These are two hundred."

The woman whistled, brushed her fingers over a few of the pieces, and began examining. Wolfgang set it down on empty stretch of table. Many people always claimed big ones were far too expensive, more than they could afford, but was surprising how often they came back and got them a day or two later. Always told Wolfgang the same thing about his crafts. 'It stuck in my head!' they all say. 'Could not stop thinking about it!'

Wolfgang left the woman to fiddle with puzzle box, and heard at least few minutes pass until the sliding of a compartment. Then, in low voice, "Wow, this thing is more complicated than it looks…"

He grinned widely for one moment, then went back to polishing.

Phone went off at front counter, and Wolfgang set down polishing rag and went to pick up.

"Good morning," he said. "Is Wolfgang Woodworks. Wolfgang speaking."

"Ah, Wolfgang," the voice replied, and he knew who it was at once. Got many calls from this one.

"Maxwell!" He thundered. "Is good to hear from you. How is Wesson mansion going?"

"Well enough," Maxwell replied evenly. Wolfgang heard few people yelling in background, sounded angry, so 'well enough' maybe wasn't so well. "How is business?" He asked.

Wolfgang glanced over at the woman, who had just gotten second compartment open and was looking quite mystified. "Is not bad. But can always use more. What you want from Wolfgang, eh?"

"A pair of cherrywood front doors set with fogged, ovular glass."

That was one thing Wolfgang liked about Maxwell. Always right to the business. "Bit like oak set you got for last mansion?"

"Quite. But cherrywood."

Wolfgang hummed. Small store did good business, but if Wolfgang was honest, Maxwell was one of Wolfgang's best customers. Got many big orders for the mansions he designed. Doors, handrails, cupboards, wardrobes, crown molding. Many things. Was always great challenge to meet Maxwell's standards. Wolfgang always enjoyed challenge…and Maxwell always paid very, very well.

Wolfgang looked over his to-do list on wall. Clicked his tongue. "I finished with last dining room set, but also have custom bookshelf to do, as well as rocking bench for new married couple in town. Can get the doors done, but will need…eh, three weeks?"

"Three weeks? Fine, fine. Does that include shipping time?"

"No. Wesson mansion is where again?"

"Massachusetts."

"Then factor in shipping time for big doors from California to Massachusetts."

Wolfgang heard Maxwell snort. "Very well. Normal price range?"

He thought for long moment, then said, "Ya, though add on thirty extra for varnish. Cherrywood needs better varnish than oak. And also think about wood cost. And will want to talk about glasswork, too."

"Of course. Shall we talk more after hours? Ah…would seven your time work?"

"Eight would be better."

"How about seven-thirty?"

"Seven-thirty? Is good. Talk to you at seven-thirty."

"Very well. Until then, old friend."

"Ya, ya," Wolfgang said good-naturedly. "Have fun making big houses for snooty rich people."

"I always do…" Then Maxwell lowered voice and said, "And let me tell you, if ever a client of mine could be called snooty…"

Wolfgang laughed and hung up. He had heard yelling in background getting louder and louder. Poor Maxwell. Had to deal with so many yelling people. Wolfgang was lucky. People never yelled at him. Was no doubt because of Wolfgang's always polite manners and good prices.

"You said this was two hundred?" The woman said. Voice sounded bit strained.

"Ya," Wolfgang said. "Biggest ones are two hundred. Also come with warranty. Ever break, just bring back. Wolfgang will fix, be happy to."

The woman hummed, and he could see her stepping away, but he got the feeling that if she lived nearby, she would be back. If she did not live nearby, Wolfgang had business cards. Allena had helped him design. Had lovely little wooden hummingbird on cover. Was nice.

Allena had done much to help Wolfgang get business started, and also helped regularly with tedious legal things. Business license was only one. She helped him understand all the banking things he needed to do, all the legal paperworks for day-to-day things, helped him pay taxes, get health insurance, car insurance, registration for car…registration for business…

Bah. Modern world was too complicated for Wolfgang. Did not like government in his business every day. Saw what Allena meant when she said big government was bad news. And now that he was making good income, having to pay so many, many taxes, Wolfgang saw that maybe socialism was not so good idea after all. Did not want taxes any higher than already they were.

 _Ding!_ Another customer entered. Wolfgang saw old woman who came in at least once a week to sit in his nice rocking chair and read. Never bought anything. Just sat.

He greeted her warmly. "Good morning, Mrs. Dropman! Am always happy to see you. Ready to buy that chair?"

She adjusted her glasses and peered at him, pretending as always that it had taken her a minute to see who had greeted her. "Ah, Mr. Ferh. No, no, I just want to try it out. See if it agrees with my hips."

Given that she sat in same chair every week for two hours, until shop started to get busy and loud, and never complained, he thought that maybe she already knew it was good for her hips. But Wolfgang never said anything. Who knew? Maybe someday she would buy the chair. "Ah, I see! Well, let Wolfgang know if it suits you, eh?"

"Mmm," she replied through pursed lips, and hobbled over to the back wall. She pulled out book with handsome cowboy on cover, and swirly lettering that probably said something like, 'Reigns of Love' or 'Heart of a Stallion', sat down in chair, and began reading.

Wolfgang chuckled. Always same chair, always same books, always same woman.

"Oh, how much are these little rings?"

Wolfgang went over and answered a few more questions on prices, explained a bit about his craft, and gave the young woman a business card before she left. Wished her nice day. She wished him same.

He glanced up at the clock. Would be another hour and a half, maybe, before larger flood of customers came in. His dusting was done, mostly, though maybe some pieces could use more polishing. Still…

He walked behind his counter, with cash register and nice computer he used for all of his business things, and rifled through shelf underneath until he found large, leather-bound tome.

He pulled this out, flipped open to first page, and smiled.

Was picture album. On first page was picture taken six years ago, shortly after first meeting with Wagstaff at the Claim Jumper. They all were gathered in Allena's garage. Wolfgang was in the back, being largest, and Wes and Winona stood next to him, Winona on step-stool. Webber was right in front of him, and Wolfgang recalled noticing that spider-boy's twitchy legs and bristly hairs did not bother him anymore, not even a little. Allena and Wilson stood off to the side, Wortox beside them, and Charlie and Maxwell stood off to other side near WX-78. Wickerbottom stood in front with Webber. Gerald was lurking in back even behind Wolfgang. Chester was in front with puppy. Was nice picture.

Next few pictures showed various scenes at Allena's house, while they'd all been living there. Winona and Wes lounging on couch, Wes smiling at camera, Winona shooing picture-taker. Webber and Wickerbottom sitting at table, working on reading and writing. Wolfgang and Wes feeding rocks to Gerald, who was waving big claw around. Wortox standing in kitchen giving high-five to Allena, who was happy he could use hands without scary curse. Next page showed Charlie and Maxwell in garden, looking happy at each other, not even knowing their picture was being taken. Another showed Wilson on ground, laughing, as Allena tickled him. Then Wickerbottom sitting in reading chair, righting her glasses, looking up at camera with raised eyebrow. Last was Wilson, Allena, Wortox and WX-78 playing Monopoly. WX-78 had won, Wolfgang remembered.

The next picture was of Wilson and Allena at wedding.

Took up whole page, and was very beautiful sight. Next four showed scenes from wedding, including very funny one with Wortox drinking entire bottle of champagne while holding off irritable Warly. Had been nice to see Warly again.

Next page was more miscellaneous photos from time between. Allena and Charlie and Winona having nails done, Wilson and Maxwell sitting in lounge chairs, Maxwell with cigar, Wilson with glass of wine. Chester hopping through nice garden. Allena and Wortox standing in front of young Treeguard in forest, Wilson looking up with very spooked expression. Was funny.

Maxwell and Charlie's wedding.

Pictures still made Wolfgang smile. Maxwell had rushed a bit, done theirs first, just to spite Winona for stealing bouquet at Allena's wedding. Had been second joyous wedding in that year, and Wes and Winona's had followed just two months after. All good times, good music, good food, and good friends.

Several pages of pictures showed years in between from all of his friends, who had taken much time to get used to having camera and taking pictures. Wes and Winona with their little clockwork beasty. Maxwell and Charlie standing in front of first finished mansion. Charlie digging in some garden, face dirty but smiling. Warly at grand opening of his restaurant. Warly and Allena on his bike, looking very cool. Warly and Wilson on his bike, looking less cool because Wilson was terrified of bike. Webber standing in kitchen, covered with peanut butter, holding electrical beater next to big peanut butter jar for some reason Wolfgang still did not know. WX-78, Wagstaff, and Wilson working in shiny new lab. Many, many happy memories. Allena had been kind enough to get all these pictures, print them, and send them to Wolfgang for Christmas two years ago. Sent new ones few times a year. Wolfgang appreciated.

The next page was blank. He flipped several of them, to where the pictures started again, and, as normal, Wolfgang's throat tightened.

On this page were only old, blurry, black and white pictures, and only two pages. Just seven photos in all.

One showed family of four. Mother, father, big son, little daughter.

Second showed the father standing with big group of friends around huge wagon of big pumpkins. Was at some state fair.

Third showed mama-daughter portrait. Fourth…father-son.

Next page. Fifth showed little daughter, now all grown up, receiving diploma for finishing school. Was smiling so big, so hopeful. Was very nice smile.

Sixth showed same girl, now older, standing beside very handsome young man. She was in lovely white dress, him in black suit. Was a wedding photo.

Last showed whole family portrait again, this time the girl – now a woman – sitting with husband, and all around them sat children. Seven children in all.

Today, five were still alive. Wolfgang knew all of them. Knew their children, too.

Pictures were the last thing he had of his family. Of mama and papa…and of Asenka. Little Asenka, who had come to United States on the shoulders of her big brother, so full of hope and light. One hope – to see big brother again – had never been fulfilled.

But how many others had been? To finish education, and to make place for self in new country! To fall in love, find good husband – how happy they had been, and Wolfgang knew because he had talked to so many of their children. And the children! Such big family! Such happy family!

So, she had never gotten to see big brother Wolfgang again. Had so much else to be happy with, ya?

Wolfgang heard creaking as old woman in rocking chair got up, tottled over. Was early for her to leave, but then, sometimes she left early. Maybe chair was not so good on her hips.

She came over to where Wolfgang stood at counter and said, "Now, I must say it's a good deal quieter in here than it normally is around this time, but…oh, goodness me, I'm sorry. Have I interrupted something?"

She was normally rather quarrelsome, but her voice had taken on surprise, concern. Wolfgang did not know why, at first. Then noticed little water drop fall on picture frame.

He dabbed at eyes with sleeve and put on hearty smile. "Ah, no. Is nothing. Am sorry. How can I help?"

But the old woman was staring past him to his album. "What is that you've got there? Those pictures look rather old."

"Ya," Wolfgang said. "Was just looking over old family pictures. That little girl, there, you see?" He turned it around so she could get better look. "That little girl came all the way from Soviet Russia when she was just seven years old. Her big brother, there, carried her off the ship on his shoulders, right into their new home, and told her everything was going to be just fine. She believed it, too!"

Mrs. Dropman looked closely, then nodded. "I see. And was it just fine?"

Wolfgang thought about it, then shrugged. "Was mostly fine. You see, older brother could not find much work where he was living, so he ran off to join the circus. Made good money, sent every penny home to family so little sister could get good education."

"The circus? Well, there were worse jobs to work in those days, and it sounds like he was responsible enough. And look at the size of him! The strongman, no doubt."

"Ya, ya! Was very strong. But, you see, his circus train? It crashed, just as he was on way back home to see his little sister. How he wanted to see her again! He promised he'd come back to her, no matter what."

"Oh, heavens," Mrs. Dropman said. She'd covered her mouth with her hand. "Then he was killed?"

Wolfgang sighed, heavily. "No. Not killed. But was lost. That man, he was lost for very, very long time. By the time he found his way back, little sister had grown up, grown old, and passed along."

The old woman shook her head. "Hmm. Lost, for all that time. Did he ever try to get back to her?"

"Ya! Fought so hard, every single day. Fought desperately, even when the hounds of hell were right on his heels, he fought! But all of his strength, all the strength he'd gathered through his life…not enough. Not enough to get him back to little sister Asenka."

Mrs. Dropman reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, then handed it to Wolfgang. He took it gratefully, dabbed his eyes clean, and carefully wiped the one tear out of photo album. Did not do to get pictures wet. They were the only ones left. "Thanking you kindly."

"That's quite alright, young man. You know," she said. "The way you talk about these people – they must have been very close family. Which one are you?"

Wolfgang smiled broadly. "Eh, you cannot tell which one is Wolfgang? Look close. Maybe you see?"

The woman looked very, very closely at the last picture in the book, the one that contained all of Asenka's sons and daughters. She peered from one face to the next, raised a hand, then frowned. Just before she spoke, Wolfgang saw her eyes dart over to the very first picture, as well as the fourth, and her features stilled.

Wolfgang chuckled, pulled the album back, and closed it. The woman looked at him sharply as he put it away.

She stared at him in silence for a good long while. Then she said, "Thank you for sharing those pictures with me, Mr. Ferh. It's nice to see someone who takes a keen interest in family history."

He replied, "Ya, ya. Is good. Now, tell me – that chair. Is it comfortable on your hips?"

"Hrmph! Just about the most comfortable chair I've ever sat in. You really make all these yourself, then?"

He nodded. "Ya. Is good. Say, do you have young, strong friend or relative at home, can lift heavy things?"

She answered without hesitation. "Oh, yes. My neighbor next door is just a peach. Always sends his son over to help me with my groceries. High-school boy, football team. Always carries everything in a single trip. Heck, carries everything with a single arm!"

Wolfgang said, "Good, good. Is good to hear. Sounds like mighty young man." Then he walked over, lifted the rocking chair she had been sitting in every week for last year or two, and walked it over to the door.

"Ah – now, hey there Mr. Ferh. What do you think you're doing?"

Wolfgang carefully moved the chair through doors and out to Mrs. Dropman's truck. The back had nothing in it, so he carefully settled chair in so it would not rock around too much. Mrs. Dropman was just coming out as he got it situated, and Wolfgang said, "Have gotten many people asking after that chair for last two years, but just couldn't bear to sell it. Is good on your hips, ya? You take."

Mrs. Dropman's lip trembled. "Oh, now, don't be ridiculous. I can't afford that, and those chairs are far too pricey to just be giving away."

Wolfgang shook his head. "No, you take. Please? Make me happy to see it go home with you."

Mrs. Dropman opened her mouth to say more, but upon seeing Wolfgang's face, she paused.

Another car was just pulling into the parking lot, and maybe she didn't want to be arguing in front of strangers, so she relaxed and said, "You're some kind of fool, giving such a treasure away to an old crone like me who'll probably be dead in another week anywho…but I suppose you're a kind fool. Thank you, Mr. Ferh."

Wolfgang nodded. "Is good. Am happy to help."

Mrs. Dropman walked over to her truck and unlocked it, but before she got in to go, she turned back to him and looked at him very, very closely. Then she asked, "And that young man – the one who never got to see his sister again. If you don't mind my asking, did he end up happy?"

Car had pulled up, and now spilled out whole band of little children. As they caught sight of him standing out in front of shop, one of them yelled, "Wolfgang! Wolfgang! Wolfgang!" and ran at him in a great charge.

Another one, little girl in a yellow dress, followed behind, and Wolfgang turned at the last minute, picked them both up, and whirled them around in a great circle until they were hiccupping with good cheer. Was not too often family from town popped in to see him, but sometimes they did, just as a big surprise treat.

Wolfgang turned to Mrs. Dropman, his little grand-niece and grand-nephew hanging from his mighty arms.

He did not answer her question. He only smiled.

* * *

Wickerbottom sat out on the porch in her normal rocking chair, reading a book. This was where she could be found most days in the earlier hours of the morning.

The chair was really quite comfortable – sometimes so much so that she would find herself dozing in it. Her, dozing. She had been doing quite a lot of that since returning from the Constant. It was as though her body was catching up on all the sleep it had ever lost due to her insomnia. Sometimes she wondered whether the Weaver had done her the best of turns, curing her of that tiresome mental disease. So much reading time, lost to sleep.

But then, her health had improved so much since she'd started getting full nights of sleep. What's more, her memory had improved as well. It had been in decline the last few years prior to her trip into the Constant. She firmly believed that had been one of the contributing causes of her being tricked into it. Foggy mind. But then, younger, sharper fools than her had been duped as well. Maxwell, you cunning serpent.

Of course, he wasn't anymore. Cunning, still, perhaps; and brilliant, too. She'd seen his home designs through the years, and had always treated him fairly enough in her commentary on them. Cunning and brilliant as ever, that man was. But a serpent? If he was, he had been thoroughly defanged. That Charlie had done wonders on him. As had Allena, and all the other people he was now able to call his friends.

She was glad. It didn't do to have a man like Maxwell succumb to the calls of villainy. Bad for everyone, himself included.

He'd dropped by just the other day to say hello and chat awhile. She'd shared some interesting tidbits she'd read in her youth about decorative and practical crenellation techniques, and he'd seemed genuinely interested.

She was very surprised by how often he and all the others dropped by or called to chat with her. It simply wasn't normal for a woman as old as she was to get so many visitors. It was the way of things for one to be forgotten once they got up past a certain age, and yet Charlie still called asking for her advice on gardening every time she had a new property to landscape; Wolfgang still popped in with new knickknacks for her, and to perform maintenance on the house whenever it needed it; Winona still called her to knock around ideas for her newest inventions and appliances; Wes still dropped in with all manner of odd books for her, and to show her all of his newest videos; Allena and Wilson were, of course, a daily facet of her life when they weren't off on one of their expeditions; Warly was eternally attentive, though lately he'd been a bit distracted. Not that she could blame him – a new girlfriend was distracting enough for anyone, and she was glad he was finally getting out and seeing someone.

Oh, and there was Wagstaff. That flatterer. Charming as Maxwell and ten times as sincere. If he wasn't bringing her roses and tea, he was bringing her updates on all of the newest research and advancements they were making in that lab of his.

"Gramma Wickerbottom! I'm gonna go play with Gerald, okee?"

She turned to see Webber dashing out of the house with Chester on his heels, a big bag of rocks on his back.

"Ah," she commented as she saw him shifting under the weight. "I suppose you got that new shipment of rocks for him?"

"Yeah!" Webber said excitedly. He reached in and pulled out a couple, and Ms. Wickerbottom examined them.

"Hmm," she said. "Some nice porphyritic basalt there. And is that alkali feldspar granite?"

"Uhh…maybe?" Webber replied confusedly. Ms. Wickerbottom _tsk'd._

"Honestly young man," she said while wagging her fingers. "Remind me to go over those mineral charts with you again next week. You've more than gotten the hang of your plant phyla, but you could use some review on your rocks."

Webber rolled his eyes, an impressive feat since he had so many of them. "Yeah, okee. But that's next week. I'm gonna go play with Gerald now. Okee?"

"Okee, Webber. You have a good time, and remember – don't go getting him overexcited! You know we got a police call from those hikers who were skirting our property last month. Thought there was some sort of illegal mining operation going on."

"Yes, gramma Wickerbottom," Webber replied dutifully. Then he whistled for Chester to follow him and took off towards the quarry. Chester barked excitedly and ran after him.

Wickerbottom watched him go fondly, though, as usual, not without a small twinge of deep concern. The boy was happy enough with her and Warly, Wilson and Allena and Chester and Gerald, but when all of them had passed…where would that leave him?

She sighed and brushed the thought aside. She still had some years left in this world, and Warly, Wilson, and Allena would be around longer still. Even so, she worried for him. He could no more go out and make a life for himself in this world than Gerald could, and he was growing so quickly. Would this safe haven of a property be enough for him forever?

She somehow doubted that it would.

Still, there was hope. She had spoken of it to Wagstaff, Wilson, and Allena several times, and they were in agreement with her. When Webber was a bit older, a bit more learned and mature, he would make the choice for himself. Wickerbottom suspected she already knew what he would choose to do. Honestly, if given the choice he would probably hop on it right then and there. But…

She shook the thought away. He was still happy here. And she was happy to have him. That decision could come later. No use putting the idea on his mind so soon.

She knew they would have to have 'the talk' sooner or later. They'd never discussed her dying in more than a perfunctory sense, but he would have to face the reality one of these days. She was old. He was young. Things wouldn't go on like this forever.

Oh, but how nice if they could! Every day was a new adventure when you had a…well, a _child_ to teach. Not that Webber was truly a child, of course, but still. He was always so eager to learn, so bright and curious and playful. He turned to her when he had questions or fears. He always sought her out when he was bored, to play games or tell jokes or repeat stories he'd heard from his friends online. He relied on her to be there for him…and she dreaded the day when she no longer would be.

She'd never feared death in the Constant. Not in any meaningful kind of way. As she'd learned from Maxwell, that was why the Shadow had been so willing to have her killed by the Deerclops so easily. She just hadn't been giving it the kind of deep suffering it desired of her. Now, however…now she wouldn't mind adding a few more decades to her life.

It occurred to her that she'd been on the same page for a good long while and had not absorbed a word of it. She scolded herself and dove back into the book.

Books had been her life's great joy ever since she'd first learned to read. How astonished she'd been at the idea that knowledge, pure and vast and ripe for the taking, could be so easily stored and condensed. The first time she'd been to a library, she'd felt how a mere mortal must feel upon seeing Olympus, realm of the gods. What wonders might await her? What secrets and powers might exist to be found?

She'd spent all her life pursuing knowledge, and finding jobs that would allow her to go on pursuing more. And it had always thrilled her to help others in the search!

She'd always loved the long trips into the country in her bookmobile. The way the children would run to her, flag her down as though her humble van had been an ice-cream truck. After some time, it got to the point that they would all crowd around in the middle of whatever small town she was scheduled for, or wait patiently outside of their solitary houses for her to drive by if town was too far away. She would swap out books left and right, collect nickel-and-dime late fees, deliver special orders into the hands of delighted youngsters. And adults, too. It wasn't only the children, after all, that'd had difficulty getting their hands on books out in the boondocks.

_Mrrrow!_

She looked aside from her book to see that Barnes, her sweet and faithful Maine coon, was sitting at her feet. She moved her book, and the kitty hopped up onto her lap at once.

He padded at her legs, claws very carefully sheathed, and she smiled and set her book down so she could give him proper attention. As soon as she started scratching the scruff of his neck, he began purring so loudly he likely would have drowned out the sound of Warly approaching on that motorbike of his.

That was the only complaint she had about Warly. That motorbike. So unsafe! Didn't he read the statistics on motorcycle fatalities?

Bah. Well, young men always had a vice or two. Motorcycles were his, and she'd told him that if he had the audacity to die before she did, she would never speak to him again in whatever afterlife they ended up in.

Barnes settled down to sleep in her lap, and after a while longer petting him she reached over to retrieve her book – The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker. Allena had recommended it to her, and she was finding it a truly fascinating read. And she had another book in the same vein, one by Malcolm Hargrove, lined up for when she was finished with this one. And when she was done with that…

She sighed again, but this time it was a contented sigh. She'd caught sight of Webber in the distance, cresting the ridge that led down into the quarry, and she waited to see if he would turn around and try to wave to her before he descended. He often did, as he frequently informed her, though she usually didn't see him.

This time he didn't. With only a glance back to Chester, who had hopped up next to him, he leapt down to make his way into Gerald's home.

She adjusted her glasses and went back to her book. She'd always been the type of person who constantly had to be learning something new, and she was at least moderately well-versed in most topics known to man. Agriculture, ornithology, theology, she knew it all. Learning how to prepare a child for life…well, that had been a first for her.

She only hoped she'd done right by him.

* * *

Webber hopped down into the quarry and stopped to wait for Chester. Chester's short little legs weren't good for long hops, so he went around to the little path he normally used to get down.

Gerald loved the rock quarry. It had been very easy for him to dig himself a little cave into the side of one of the walls, but he hadn't stopped there. Nope. He'd kept on digging and digging and digging, and now his caves stretched all over the place! Wilson had wondered if that might cause some structural instabilities on the property, but they'd all gone down and looked around and everyone figured the caves were stable enough. Gerald was pretty smart about his caves. None of them would collapse, probably ever.

There was a little shelf chiseled into the wall near the entrance, and it had flashlights and little lanterns so no one would have to be in the dark when they went in. Webber grabbed his personal flashlight – it was bright red and shiny, Allena had gotten it for him 'cause red was his favorite color – and clicked it on.

Deeper inside the cave, Webber could hear the cracking, grinding sounds of Gerald digging somewhere far ahead. Before he went further in, he called out, "Gerald! I'm here to play! I'm gonna find you!"

The clacking and grinding stopped, and a loud, gurgling call came out of the cave. Webber figured that if someone else heard it, they'd probably be scared. They'd probably think there was a monster in the caves. But Webber knew better. That was just Gerald saying hello!

The cave got really quiet, and Webber giggled. Gerald liked to play hide-and-seek. That was fine, 'cause hide-and-seek was Webber's favorite game!

He and Chester took off down the rocky halls, and Webber paused to inspect every boulder. There were lots of them around. Gerald left them to trick people, so they wouldn't be able to tell which one was him when he wanted to play, but Webber had gotten pretty good. He remembered which ones didn't move – mostly – and could tell when they were too jagged or too smooth to be Gerald – mostly. Still, he paused every now and then to tap on one, just to be sure it wasn't him.

He ran down the main cave to where it split off to the left and right and straight. He considered which path to take, and asked, "What do you think, Chester? Which way do you think we should go?"

Chester barked and turned around in a circle. Then he sat down and flipped up his lid.

Webber grinned and set the big bag of rocks in Chester's belly. "Thankies, Chester! They were getting a little heavy. Now…"

He looked to the left, thought about it, and nodded. He would go left. That would be easy to check, and it would take him through a big loop back to the middle tunnel, then he could come back and check the right fork. There were more tunnels down the right fork, and they were harder to figure out, 'cause they went deeper, and after a while they started crisscrossing up and down as well as left and right. If you didn't know the caves really well, it was super easy to get lost!

Allena had called it a labyrinth. Webber liked that word. _Labyrinth._ It was spelled funny, and it sounded cool. Wilson was always bringing cool, funny words back from the lab, like 'umbric dissipator' and 'transtemporal calibrator'. He would always try to explain what those words meant, but he'd do it using other words that Webber didn't know, and eventually Webber would just laugh and run away, leaving Wilson to pout.

He saw a boulder that looked just like Gerald up ahead, and it was in a spot that normally didn't have a boulder. Webber grinned, crept up on it, then jumped on it yelling, "Found you!"

But the boulder didn't move. Chester barked up at Webber, tongue flopping around excitedly.

Webber jumped off, shone his light on it, and groaned. "Aw, Gerald! You left another fake you! I'm gonna find you anyways!" He yelled.

He heard a gurgling groan echo through the tunnels. Gerald was laughing.

He took off again, Chester bouncing along behind him, and as he did he thought about how much he would miss his games of hide-and-seek when he left. He knew he would eventually. Ms. Wickerbottom didn't want to talk about it just yet, but he'd overheard her talking to Wilson and Allena a couple months ago.

Webber knew Ms. Wickerbottom couldn't live forever, and he also knew she probably wasn't gonna come back as a ghost again when she died. She'd be gone-gone-gone, and it would be a long time until Webber saw her again then. She'd go to heaven where his mom and dad and grandpa were, and he'd have to wait until he got there, too.

He'd been pretty sad when he'd first thought about it, but he'd also had other things to think about. Wilson had said that, when Webber was older and the property had gotten too small for him, he could go back to the Constant if he wanted to. Not just to spend time with his spider friends and mama long-legs, but also to help the Weaver and to take over Wilson and Allena's job. _Someone_ had to go on the expeditions, after all.

At first, Webber had been a little scared of the idea. He changed when he was alone in the Constant. He used to be okay with what he was when he didn't have Allena and Wilson and others around to keep him…well, _him_ …but now that he was used to being this way, he didn't really want to risk going back to being the way he used to be.

He'd spent a few years thinking really hard about when he was younger, and although he didn't really remember getting eaten by the spider, he remembered what it was like when he'd been living just with his spider friends and spider-mama.

The way he'd explained it to Allena and Wilson and Ms. Wickerbottom was kinda like this. He was Webber, but Webber wasn't the only one there. His spider friend, his _closest_ spider friend, was also there all the time, and that was mostly really good. He couldn't remember a time when his spider friend hadn't been there to tell him how to get food when he was hungry, or how to weave webs to keep the cold out and the prey fresh, or how to fight when bad things attacked him. His spider friend was the one who understood spider-talk, and anything his spider-friend knew, Webber knew, too.

But sometimes, he and Webber had disagreed, like when they used to meet people in the Constant before Allena. His spider friend had always seen people as food, but Webber had always seen people as people. He'd always talked to the people, tried to make friends, but…it hadn't ever worked out. 'Cause the people didn't see Webber as a person, they just saw Webber as a monster. They'd always tried to hurt Webber, and when Webber was hurt…well, when he was hurt, his spider friend was hurt, and his spider friend didn't like being hurt.

So his spider friend would just kinda do all the moving for him. All the scratching and the biting and the wrapping and the eating. At first Webber had cried. He'd cried 'cause he was hurt, and 'cause the people were all mean to him and called him awful names. He'd cried 'cause he didn't want to eat people, and his spider friend would be confused. What was there to cry about when they had a full belly?

His spider friend was very strong. He was very good at being a spider, 'cause he'd been alive a really long time. Most spiders didn't live as long as he had, 'cause they got eaten when they got too big. Mama long-legs always saw to that. Mama long-legs probably would have eaten him, too, except Maxwell had made sure she wouldn't. He'd made sure his mama long-legs would always take care of him. And his spider friend had been just fine with that. That had been pretty okeydokey.

Webber rounded another corner and stamped his foot. He'd made a wrong turn somewhere.

He thought about it for a second, then yelled, "Hey Gerald! Gimmi a hint!"

Webber heard nothing for a minute, then he heard a loud clickety clacking coming from somewhere below him. Ah-ha! So Gerald was in the lower caves!

He took the first path he knew would take him lower and yelled, "Here I come!"

Another gurgling rumble. Gerald was having fun. So was Webber.

Webber liked to have fun. He liked songs and games and rhymes and stuff. His spider friend didn't understand why. What were songs and jokes to a spider?

His spider friend had always gotten impatient with him when he would want to spend time chasing butterflies instead of catching bees to eat. He'd always get pouty and screechy when Webber wanted to spend time weaving his webs into pretty shapes instead of useful nets. He'd always get angry when Webber didn't wanted to eat the nice birds they caught.

Sometimes he'd make Webber do things he didn't want to. He'd make him ignore the butterflies and eat the bees. He'd rip Webber's pretty webs into little pieces and use them for nets and nests. He'd bite the birdies to make them stop singing. It had always been so hard to make his spider friend play nice.

Webber could usually do it in the summer, when they weren't hungry and when webs were plentiful. But in winter, his spider friend had always taken over. Webber would mostly just sleep during winter, and let his spider friend do whatever he wanted to.

It had been winter when Allena had shown up.

Allena had woken him up. He'd been groggy and tired when she'd first come by, 'cause he'd mostly been asleep. At first he'd thought that maybe she was just a nice dream. He dreamt awake sometimes, when his spider friend was doing everything for them. But then she'd punched him and run away, and taken her nice songs and friendly words with her.

Webber had realized that she hadn't been a dream after she'd gone – he'd never gotten hit or hurt by a dream, and she'd hit hard – but by the time he'd woken up it had been too late. He'd cried so much after that.

But then she'd come back. She'd come back to Webber, and when she'd talked about trapping the Deerclops, even his spider friend hadn't been able to ignore her. Too much yummy, tasty meats to be had. And _boy_ had they had meats. They'd had meats for days, and they'd been so full and happy that Webber had been able to wake up and tell his spider friend what for! They wouldn't eat Allena. Or Wilson, even though he'd been kinda mean to them at first.

His spider friend was always quieter when other humans were around. Kinda like he was hiding inside of Webber, hoping the people wouldn't see him, 'cause if they did they might attack, and Wilson and Allena were strong. Much, much stronger than his itty bitty spider friend.

So Webber had woken up, and he'd been much more awake than he'd been in years. He'd made friends, and had remembered what it had been like to have a family that cared about more than just food and webs and territory. And when he'd had to choose between Allena and mama long-legs…

He still missed mama long-legs, but he knew she didn't miss him too much, and that was good. He was glad to know she wouldn't be sad without him. Allena would have been, though, so Webber had gone with Allena.

Now his spider friend spent a lot of time sleeping, but Webber still poked him awake so they could play sometimes. Webber remembered what it was like to be asleep all the time, and he didn't want his spider friend to just waste away in the back of his head. That wouldn't be a nice way to repay him for all the years he'd kept them alive. So they would hunt down racoons and stray cats really late at night when everyone was asleep, and sometimes if a deer would come onto the property Webber would run at it and rip and bite and scratch and claw it, and they'd have some nice, tasty deer meats.

His spider friend appreciated it. Webber didn't mind either. Just so long as they didn't eat Barnes. Barnes was off-limits.

Webber had found a new tunnel, one that he was pretty sure he'd never seen before. It sloped down pretty far, and Webber trilled excitedly.

He ran down the slope, Chester bouncing and skidding along behind, and when he came to the end he gasped. Chester panted.

Gerald had made himself a big huge cavern with a nice winding slope down to the bottom. It was, like, twenty feet from top to bottom, it had a great big support pillar right in the middle, and the whole room was probably as big as Allena and Wilson's whole house. Bigger, even!

There were boulder piles all over the place, and Webber started inspecting each one carefully. He went slowly, looking for the little bumps and lumps of Gerald's claws and tentacles, and at last he stopped at one.

He stared at it closely, then grinned. "Found you, Gerald!"

Big black eyes opened up on the front of the rock, and a stream of tentacles started wriggling as Gerald came to life. He unwound himself and waved his big claw in the air, gurgling happily.

Webber giggled as Gerald's great big pincer came down and began lightly squeezing him in greeting. "Hi Gerald. This place is pretty cool. I bet you've been working on this all month!"

Gerald withdrew his claw and stepped around him. Webber followed. Gerald liked showing off the things he made. Sometimes he spent an hour or more with Allena just taking her along smooth, empty stretches of cavern, gently dragging her hands across the stone he'd carved out. She always indulged him, running her hands up and down and walls, ooh'ing and ahh'ing and telling him what an awesome tunneller he was.

Now Gerald led Webber around the edges of the big cave, and Webber ran his hands along the rock just like Allena usually did. Gerald went by it all pretty quickly, though. He had something bigger he wanted to show Webber.

Gerald took him once around the room, then went to the huge pillar right in the middle and tapped on it. Wilson thought that the tapping was him sending vibrations through the rock so he could see farther into it and up and down. That meant Gerald wanted to show him the pillar.

Webber tapped on the rock, then shone his flashlight on it. He paused when he aimed it at the ceiling, and let out a genuine, "Ooooh."

The pillar stretched out across the ceiling like the branches of a tree, and it looked like it held up the whole cavern. Gerald had probably made it to make sure the cavern wouldn't ever collapse.

Then Gerald tapped on the ground, and Webber shone his flashlight downwards. He hadn't noticed it at first, but all across the ground were smooth, shallow divots. Kinda like nests.

Gerald went over to one divot and began slowly, carefully scraping the back of his big claw over the bottom, smoothing it out even more. Then he went over to another part of the cave Webber hadn't noticed – a big, deep indentation in the wall, like what Maxwell called an alcove in the houses he made. The bottom of the alcove wasn't just normal rock, though. It was like a shallow pool, and it was filled with silty, powdery sand.

Webber ran his fingers through it, wondering what it was for. Webber didn't know what any of this stuff really meant, so he figured he'd just tell Gerald it was cool and leave it at that.

"This is pretty nifty, Gerald! Good job," he said cheerfully.

Gerald let out a deep, contented note, carefully swept a little sand on the ground into the alcove – another nifty word, alcove! – and turned around to leave.

Just then Chester barked, and Webber smacked his own forehead. "Oh, I'm such a dummy! Gerald, I forgot! I brought you something!"

Webber reached for Chester, who popped his top at once. Webber pulled out the rock bag, grabbed a rock, and held it out to Gerald.

"Here you go, Gerald! Ms. Wickerbottom says this one is a granitic basalt. And there's a whole bunch more where that came from!"

Gerald took the rock and brought it to his tentacles. He rumbled, clearly pleased, as he sniffed it, but to Webber's confusion he didn't eat it. He only took it over to a corner of the cave where a large boulder stood. At the base of the boulder was a pile of rocks – not normal, grey wall rocks, but some of the nicer kinds that Gerald always loved stumbling across. Smooth white rocks and soft, crumbly red rocks and multi-colored sandy rocks.

He set the granitic basalt on top of the pile and turned to Webber, looking at him expectantly.

Webber started handing him the rocks one by one, and one by one he inspected them and put them on the pile. A couple of them he sniffed closely then ate, all of the rest went on the pile.

Chester just stood there, panting, as usual. Webber looked at the pile of rocks and asked, "Gerald, aren't ya gonna eat them?"

Gerald let out a high, trilling vibration and began walking away. Guess he wasn't gonna eat them. Gerald began making his way to the path up, and Webber followed him. He really would have to ask Wilson what was going on with Gerald!

Sometimes Webber liked to ride on Gerald's back, and Gerald never minded, but this time he didn't. Something about Gerald seemed a little bit off. If he wasn't eating, maybe it was 'cause he was sick.

They got back to the entrance and Webber asked, "You wanna play hide-and-seek again?" Sometimes they would just play again and again all day, Webber coming back to the entrance while Gerald trundled off to hide somewhere else. Webber could never hide from Gerald. He thought maybe Gerald could tell where anyone was in his caves any time he wanted to.

This time, Gerald make a series of rough, sharp clicking noises. That meant he was done playing. Normally Webber might pout and beg him for another game or two, but he thought maybe this wasn't a good time.

He sighed. "Okee, Gerald. I'll let you get back to making your cave nice. I'll get Allena and Wilson as soon as they're back, and they can come see you and your cave, okee?"

Gerald burbled happily, pinched Webber lightly on the head in goodbye, turned, and went back into the cave.

Webber and Chester stood there watching him go. Once he was gone Webber put his flashlight away and started out of the quarry.

He got to the top of the ridge and looked towards Wilson and Allena's house, but it was pretty clear they still weren't back. They'd probably be back tomorrow, so he'd ask then, but what was he gonna do in the meantime?

Maybe he'd play some computer games. Allena had set him up with some really neat games, and some of them were online games so he could play with other people. He loved playing with Linda and Kat when they were on, and even when they weren't he had a bunch of people he played with normally. They were all really nice, which was nice 'cause a lot of people online were pretty mean. Webber had learned how to deal with those people, though. Just beat them at whatever game you were playing again and again until they got mad and left. That always worked!

Yeah, maybe he would play some online games. Or maybe he would read some books. Or maybe…

He got an idea. He would ask Ms. Wickerbottom if she wanted to do a jigsaw puzzle. They loved doing jigsaw puzzles together, and it had been _forever_ since they'd last done one. And maybe if he asked nicely they could make popcorn and have some hot chocolate, too. It was maybe a little warm for hot chocolate, but who said hot chocolate was only for cold days?

Yeah, that's what he would do. He'd ask Ms. Wickerbottom to play with him. Maybe Warly would want to join in when he got home, too.

He'd thought about Ms. Wickerbottom maybe dying someday. She was his teacher, and his nanny, and his very bestest friend. He figured he'd be really sad, but he would still have other friends. And he'd have a job to do. He'd be okay. He'd miss her a lot, but he'd be okay.

Still, he hoped that it would be a really long time until she died. There were lots of jigsaw puzzles to do, and games to play, and there was a whole lot of things she still had to teach him, like about minerals and plants and history and prose. She had to stick around for a while to teach him all the many, many things he still needed to learn.

She was still sitting in her chair, reading her book, and Barnes was on her lap. He called out to her as he got near. "Ms. Wickerbottom! Ms. Wickerbottom, you wanna do a jigsaw puzzle?"

She looked up and adjusted her glasses. "Hmm. Gerald not up for playing much today?"

"Naw. He's working on a new cave. It's pretty cool. Maybe when Wilson and Allena get back we can all go down and see it, okee?"

Ms. Wickerbottom chuckled. "Okee, Webber. That sounds like a lovely idea. Now, you mentioned a jigsaw puzzle? And here I thought you were getting too old for those."

Webber smiled and shook his head. "Naw. I wanna stay a kid a little longer."

* * *

Wilson stood overlooking the peninsula he had called home for four long years.

Well, three long years. He'd wandered aimlessly for the first, looking for a way out of the wretched world he'd come to know as the Constant. Now, however, he would not have to look far if he wished to return home to Earth. The portal was about fifty feet behind him in the clearing in the Northwood. The Gateway they'd constructed still stood…and was now connected firmly to the _other_ Gateway in Wagstaff's lab back in California.

He and Wagstaff had spent about two years filling in all the gaps in their understanding of the Constant and the manner in which it could be connected to their world. They had believed firmly that it was no longer an urgent matter – only a matter of extreme interest to them and the world at large. After all, with the Shadow defeated, what danger could the Constant pose?

Then the reports had started coming in. Disappearances involving mysterious devices and Voxola radios.

He, Wagstaff, Maxwell, Allena and Wortox had held an emergency meeting after the second reported disappearance – that of a young woman named Willow Devinsky, who had vanished from a small orphanage that sported a Voxola radio in the office of the head administrator. It was noted that Willow was the only person in the building with a name that began with 'W'.

Maxwell and Wortox had been quick to provide their own overlapping theories. They thought that, although the Shadow was defeated, the power the Shadow had represented was still very much there. It may have become unfocused following the Shadow's defeat, but it was entirely within the realm of possibility that it could have either generated a new central figure that functioned similarly to the old Shadow, or else simply retained enough sentience in its diluted form to begin acting on its own.

Either way, people were being drawn into the Constant once more.

That was when Wilson and Wagstaff had refocused their efforts into creating a new, stable Gateway to the Constant. It hadn't taken too long, and they'd only lost a dozen canine test subjects in the process, nine of which had been recovered once the stable Gateway had been created. Allena had been fairly horrified by the idea of Wilson and Wagstaff trying to get back to the Constant, but it had actually been WX-78 who had gone through and done the work on the other side. He'd been able to use Winona's necklace, which she'd been happy to part with after all the help it had afforded her starting her business (she still wouldn't tell them exactly what it had done, only that it had something to do with her understanding of her competitors' intentionally faulty appliances). The necklace had provided him with a wealth of information on how the laws of physics differed from the Constant universe to their own. With the necklace, a metric ton of high quality equipment and food supplies, and the remnant of the Gateway they'd first used to get home, WX-78 had been able to rig the Gateway in such a way that it would always form a stable bridge between the Constant and Earth.

And the best part was that the bridge was both spatially and temporally stable. No more risk of daytrips that would last five months in Earth time.

When the day of the first trip had come, Wilson had stood beside the portal sweating bullets and feeling vaguely sick to his stomach. Then Allena had come in to stand beside him. She'd been carrying a backpack full of supplies, as well as a few weapons on her hips. She'd told him that there was no way in hell that she would even take a chance of losing him to the Constant. If he was going back, she'd be right there with him.

He'd reminded her of their wedding vows. Hadn't he promised he would always return to her, just as she had for him? But she'd responded in kind, reminding him of her promise to always stand strong beside him.

They'd gone together. Nothing at all had gone wrong, and they'd both been back in time for dinner. After all that emotional bluster, it had almost been a shame. Both of them had been unfathomably relieved, of course.

The two of them, along with WX-78, had started shipping a stable base's worth of supplies and materials over. The goal was to create a reliable base from which they could branch out and begin searching the Constant. They'd begun building it on the remains of the old base. They hadn't gotten very far when the Weaver had come upon them.

The Weaver had been surprised to see them there, and they'd sensed a certain strain on him. He'd wanted to know what they were doing in the Constant yet again, so they'd told him that people from Earth were being drawn back into the world and trapped. They were there to rescue them.

They'd asked the Weaver if he could perhaps help them, but the Weaver's response hadn't been very encouraging. Evidently, his plans to purge the shadows' influence from the Constant and remake it hadn't been going as well as he'd assumed it would. The shadows weren't give up so easily. He was fighting just to maintain what he had managed thus far.

Wilson and Allena had been very unnerved to learn something. The Shadow's minions had been the ones producing the monsters that had regularly assaulted them during their stay. On its orders, they'd made everything from the hounds to the Dragonfly. In the Shadow's absence…

Well, it was kind of like that old clip from Fantasia. The one with Mickey Mouse as the wizard's apprentice? He needed to carry water from the well to the pool until it was filled, but he was lazy, so he stole his master's magical hat to enchant the brooms to do the job for him. Then he fell asleep. When he woke up, it was to the realization that the brooms had kept on working long after the job was done in the absence of their enchanter's orders, and by the time Mickey realized what was happening it was too late to stop them. They just kept on going and going until they flooded the whole castle.

Long story short, the Constant was swarming with monsters.

Without the Shadow to throttle and direct the flow to a level that would keep its prisoners challenged and fearful without overwhelming and killing them too quickly, the shadows were absolutely going to town. Hound mounds had popped up in clusters all over the place, Vargs were scattered here and there, and almost every single swamp was now seething with tentacles, spiders, and those strange fish-men that they'd decided to christen Merms. The Weaver even believed that they were well on their way to making Dragonflies and Deerclops, though he wasn't sure where they were getting the resources needed for them.

Wilson hadn't been overly happy. That meant the new survivors were in at least as much danger as the old survivors had been. There went his hopes of a few easy expeditions.

Ah, well. It wouldn't have been the Constant if there wasn't at least a moderate risk of death. That just made their goals – to locate and extract the survivors – even more urgent.

They'd gotten a full map of the Constant from Maxwell, who had cheerfully wished them luck on their suicide mission upon learning that the Constant was still plagued by the shadows. The reaction hadn't been at all surprising to Wilson, who did not begrudge the man his disdain.

What _had_ been surprising was how everyone else had reacted. With the exception of Wickerbottom, who was enjoying her retirement, and Webber, whom they'd all agreed could accompany them if he chose to once his education was a bit more complete, every single one of the others had offered immediately to come along with Wilson and Allena to find the new survivors.

They'd both been touched. They'd also both been adamant. Wes, Winona, Warly, Wolfgang…they'd all been through more than enough. They'd earned their new lives, and Wilson and Allena weren't going to see them uprooted by the shadows again.

That said, Wortox had proclaimed he'd be thrilled to partake in some expeditions himself. The Treeguards were doing just fine on their own, and he rather missed the magical atmosphere of the Constant. As much as he loved simple forest life, he was not only a nymph. He was also half demon, and that demon needed a fair bit of spice in its life.

So, Wortox's job was to Hop around the Constant looking for the survivors. When he found one, he offered them aid and information, reported their location to Wilson and Allena, and the two of them would come and extract said individual.

Of course, this was easier said than done.

As Wilson stood watching the butterflies flit around the field and the bees make their way steadily through the flowers – the flowhive was still standing, and in excellent shape – he heard the distinctive _bzzZZZAP!_ of the Gateway activating. A few minutes later, the person it had deposited approach him.

He glanced over his shoulder and said, "Ready for another trip, my love?"

Allena stood there in her full expedition gear. Hiking boots, heavy protective clothing, weapons, and a backpack full of supplies. "Yup. So, which way are we headed this time? Out to sea to rescue that poor sailor, or up north for that woman…what was her name? Wigfrid?"

"Yes, and the man calls himself Woodlegs. And nothing else."

"I still refuse to believe that's his real name."

"You'll have to take it up with him when we see him, I suppose."

Allena looked towards the base. Toga was dozing just in front of it, but neither of them called to him. He would delay them a good deal in his excitement. Sadly, they didn't get to see their little Vargling as often as they wanted to anymore, because he wasn't so little anymore. Without the anti-aging spell Maxwell had placed on him in the mansion below, he'd grown up into a full-sized Varg - possibly even larger than the first one. Thankfully he was every bit as loving and sweet as he'd been as a puppy, so he wasn't a danger to any of them, and they even took him with them on some of their adventures to provide protection and a comfortable ride; but he was too big for the property back home. He had to live in the Constant full-time now.

Allena's gaze turned from the base to the shore, and she looked unperturbed. There was a time when at least the ghost of apprehension would have crossed her face as she regarded the task before her – a journey into fairly unknown lands, rife with monsters and natural dangers, from which they might not return. Now, however, confidence and focus were all he could see in her gaze.

He knew where it stemmed from. Being forced by necessity to undertake such an expedition was one thing. Undertaking it by choice, because someone else was depending upon you…that was quite different.

Wilson adjusted his pack and said, "I believe we'll want to tackle Woodlegs first. He's an older man, less sturdy, and from what Wortox has told me the woman is quite capable of taking care of herself. A warrior woman from the sound of it. Like the Valkyries of old."

Allena grimaced. "Awesome. Another trip out to sea."

Wilson clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Afraid so. Still, at least we have more experience this time. You're certain you don't want to stay behind, though?"

Allena shook her head. "No, it's fine. I brought better waterproofing this time. And seasickness tablets. I'll be okay."

Wilson nodded as they started towards the island. On the far side of it was the dock they'd built when they'd first learned that the archipelagos were in play. They'd rescued a surfer woman named Walani from them roughly five months prior, and Allena had been fairly miserable the whole time. Sailing played havoc on her stomach, and she couldn't stand getting wet. Said it very nearly drove her mad.

The Constant hadn't been entirely kind to the Walani woman, and though she'd seemed largely unperturbed by her plight when they'd found her, she'd been quite happy to get home and put the Constant behind her. The first woman they'd recued, Willow, had been utterly indifferent to their rescue, interestingly. Earth had never treated her with any more kindness than the Constant had, but Wagstaff had taken it upon his shoulders to make the world a bit more welcoming to her. The few others they'd rescued had held up to varying degrees. One woman among all the survivors had really stood out, though.

"Wilson! Allena! Taking off without saying goodbye?"

They both turned to see the woman who had just come out of the Northwood a short ways away. Going by the spear in her hand and webs clinging to her sleeves, she'd been killing spiders.

Allena grinned and called, "Wheeler! Thought you were still off with WX-78 touring the caves?"

"Eh," She said, adjusting her light brown backpack as she came to a halt a few feet from them. She had short, wavy brown hair, a striking red jacket and yellow ruff of fur, and baggy grey-brown cargo pants tucked into black combat boots. Her resting face was a small, cocky smile. "He came across a dig site and decided it would be a good idea to come back and let our big green friend know about it. Personally, I woulda loved to stick around, maybe do some digging myself. I've knit a few bones in my time."

"I don't doubt it," Wilson said cordially. "Though I imagine that if the bones belong to its kin, the Weaver will be grateful to prioritize their extraction himself. I'm sorry to hear your expedition was cut short, though."

Wheeler shrugged, but Wilson imagined she was still likely irked. The woman enjoyed her expeditions.

They'd found Wheeler about three months prior. She'd been flying a hot air balloon over an African rainforest when her radio – a Voxola, shockingly – went on the fritz. Her balloon had crashed…and it had done so in a truly astounding place, even by the Constant's standards.

When Wilson and Allena had returned from it and asked Maxwell about it, he'd been shell shocked. Evidently, he'd long ago created an entire race of pigmen of a considerably higher caliber than the ones in the lower Constant. These higher pigmen, found in a part of the Constant than was both tropical and high-altitude, had forged an entire civilization for themselves under Maxwell's reign. He'd grown bored of them, however, and decided to wipe them all out in an…Aporkalypse…before leaving the region in favor of the less humid lowlands.

Well, he'd assumed the pigmen had all been killed, but evidently, they hadn't. In fact they'd not only survived; they'd thrived to some degree, creating entire cities where they'd lived fairly peacefully. As peacefully as one could live in that deathtrap, at any rate.

Wilson had been astounded that the woman, Wheeler, had survived by herself for so long. Everything in that highland hamlet seemed to be venomous, the raw materials were harder to find and harder to harvest, the lands were disjoined and difficult to traverse, and there was no grassy knoll upon which one could form a stable base.

But survive, Wheeler had. And more than that – she'd uncovered many, many secrets.

Though the pig civilization had only existed for some ninety-odd years, they'd accomplished a great deal in that time. They'd built and abandoned temples, crafted relics, and made monuments to their history. It was in one such monument, found in an old and long-lost temple, that Wheeler had discovered the secret to their survival, though she hadn't been able to make full sense of it at the time.

It was Wilson and Allena who had deciphered her drawings. The earliest one had depicted a figure that could only have been Maxwell, crafting a pigman out of shadows. The pigman had knelt before Maxwell, who had showered it with gifts.

The later pictures showed the growth of the pig empire, all beneath the watchful eyes of Maxwell. The following tablets had been more morose.

Maxwell casting venomous snakes down out of the trees. Maxwell making thunderous birds rise from the earth. Maxwell sending vicious bats raining from the sky. All of these to torment the pigmen, who did not understand what they had done to merit the punishment. Then, finally…the Aporkalypse.

Constant night due to a forced solar eclipse. Throngs of bats and mad beasts. And when it had begun, a new race had risen from the earth – an army of warrior insects, not unlike praying mantises. These were called Mants.

Then Maxwell had vanished, leaving his creations to perish. Just as all hope had seemed lost, however, a new being had risen.

Neither Wilson nor Allena could tell precisely what it was, but their best guess was some sort of massive shadow creature. Huge and slithering, like a snake, with a crimson shawl, sharp pincers for hands, and a large swirling crest like a horn atop its head, it had come to the pigmen in the time of their greatest need.

Three pictures had told the story of the Aporkalypse's end. In the first, the pigmen had gone out to kneel before the great shadow. In the third, the shadow had waved its hand above a great, round stone object of some sort, and the Aporkalypse had ended.

The second panel, which must have shown what the pigs had done to appease the shadow, had been destroyed. Knowing the Shadow, Wilson and Allena shuddered to even guess at what it had depicted.

They had thanked Wheeler profusely for her discoveries, and had assured her that they would get her home, safe and sound, right away. Wheeler, however, had not been interested.

The woman, as it happened, was an explorer. An adventurer. The months she'd spent in the Constant had been exactly the kind of thrill she'd been seeking for her entire life. It had been a dream come true for her, in spite of all the perils and pains. That, coupled with the fact that she really had nothing to go back to on Earth, had meant that there was only one path forward for her.

She wanted to stay in the Constant.

Wilson and Allena had brought her back to the main base. There were still many things she didn't understand about the Constant, and she'd needed a bit of medical care, so she'd agreed to coming back under the condition that she would be allowed to go on exploring eventually. They'd agreed, and had been showing her the ropes ever since.

"So, you guys going to rescue that old kook with the wooden legs?"

Allena nodded. "Yeah. Not much of a sailor myself, but hopefully this'll be a short expedition. So, what are your plans?"

Wheeler shrugged again. "Gonna study up on some survival techniques until WX-78 is ready to set out again, then he's thinkin' we'll head back to the caves for some training. Personally, I'd rather just head straight down into these Ruins you've talked about, but…"

Wilson shook his head. He admired the woman her pluck, but the Ruins were no laughing matter. "Consider a Ruins expedition your final exam, and one you'll want to study hard for at that. It will pay to be prepared for them. As for the caves, I wonder if you two wouldn't consent to waiting until we got back to tackle them? Allena and I need to make a trip there ourselves."

"Oh, really?" Wheeler asked. "What for?"

Allena's eyes lit up. "We're looking for a lady lobster to bring back for Gerald. You see, he's been a little bit melancholy lately, and we think it might be because he's lonely. Most of the rock lobsters are still living in the caves, even though they have free reign to go wherever they want now, so we're gonna head down there and see if we can't get one to come back with us."

Wheeler snorted. "Wow. You think that's a good idea? Not worried about breeding up a legion of rock monsters on Earth?"

"They'll behave," Allena said hastily.

Wilson wasn't overly worried. The rock lobsters were such peaceful beings, humanity would get along with them just fine if their population did take off. The Treeguards, on the other hand…

Ah, well, that wasn't his concern. That was up to Wortox and Wagstaff. And the US Forest Service.

"Whatever you say," Wheeler said. "Anywho, I won't keep you any longer. You two get out there and save yourselves a pirate."

Allena grinned. "Will do. Stay safe, Wheeler. Oh, and you remember what we talked about last week? You're still interested?"

Wheeler nodded. "You know I am. In fact, if you're not much of a sailor yourself…"

Allena waved a hand. "No. Stay here, work with WX-78. I'll be fine. Next time for sure, though."

Wilson looked between the two in confusion. He wasn't sure what they were talking about. What had Allena asked of the woman?

Ah, he'd find out later. They had an expedition to be embarking upon. "Farewell, Wheeler. Best of luck in your studies."

Wheeler waved goodbye to them as she turned on her heel to head back to base. "Yeah, best of luck on your trip. Bring back a souvenir."

"Will do! Oh, and be sure to take Toga for a run while we're gone, if you get the chance!" Allena called, then said more quietly to Wilson, "Maybe you could bring her back some spiderlings."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Every spider on those God-forsaken islands is probably venomous. I rather think I'll just bring her back some doubloons, or maybe a parrot."

"A parrot? Bet she'll like that."

"So long as it isn't the talking kind, I'm sure she will. Those are absolute beasts. No manners at all."

Allena laughed, and Wilson's spirits lifted abruptly. Another adventure with Allena. They had them so often, now, and he had no complaints. Before this had all begun, when it had just been him working days at the labs and Allena staying home to work on her writing and help with Webber's education, Wilson had been afraid that they'd been growing a bit distant. There were times when he'd come home at three in the morning to find her asleep on the couch, having been waiting up for him for goodness knew how long. There had been a few fights, some tensions…

Who would have thought that, after all they had been through, domestic bliss would be among the greatest challenges their love for each other could possibly face?

Yes; in a way, things were easier for them in the Constant. The Constant forced them to trust one another and cooperate every single day. Close quarters were the rule rather than the exception, and they functioned best as a couple when they were working together towards a common goal.

And yet, there was fear. Discomfort, pain, doubt, danger. On their second expedition Allena had been bitten by a venomous snake, and Wilson's emotional agony, watching her lay there sweating and shaking and weak, had been comparable to Allena's physical agony. He could really do without the lethal aspects of their lives.

They had founded their relationship on a hard life, and an easy life was something they would need to become accustomed to. Wilson had underestimated how challenging that would be. He would not do so the next time it came to that. He wanted them to be able to settle down eventually without having to worry about growing apart. Whatever it took – a cut to his hours, relationship counselling, anything – he would do it.

When it came to that, anyways. For now…

They reached the edge of the island and looked out on the plain that had once been a swamp but was now a pleasant grassland once more. On the far side, out of sight over the lip of the island, bobbed a boat that would take them into danger once again.

Allena was at his side. He was ready for it.

* * *

Allena had been growing seriously worried about their new lifestyle, up until about three months ago. When they'd met Wheeler, Allena had been thrilled. An adventurer, someone who wanted to spend her life in the Constant. Someone who didn't really have prospects of a life outside of it…unlike Allena.

Not that she complained about her job. So many people were winding up in the Constant with no means of escape, and they couldn't just sit there and do nothing about it. Wilson had been her knight in shining armor – now all these people needed one as well. One or two. Who was she to deny them?

They needed help. As long as there was no one else available, she and Wilson would provide it.

"Why, it looks like we have another friend here to bid us adieu," Wilson said while nodding off to Allena's right. Then he called, "Hail, Weaver!"

 _Hail,_ a slow, deep voice responded in their minds.

Allena looked to see the Weaver making his way slowly over to them from the island's wood, which they'd decided to call the Spiderwood. It still had a sizeable arachnid presence, after all, including a queen.

Allena and Wilson both detoured to meet him, and Allena curtsied where they met. "Hello, Weaver. How are you?"

The Weaver had grown accustomed enough to their speech that they could now communicate verbally. The Weaver still communicated telepathically, though, as this was much easier for him. Now, for instance, he conveyed a deep, piercing weariness and mild frustration along with his explanation.

_The spiders are breeding too quickly, and they threaten to overtake the plains if they keep expanding. I vowed they would have a place in this world, but with the shadows causing such ruckus it is becoming problematic for me to keep the queens in check._

Allena hummed thoughtfully. She could sympathize with this. He'd expressed some serious anger with the spiders about a year ago, and she'd caught him considering just wiping them all out to simplify things. Allena had been worried, but Wilson had taken a moment to convey his sympathies to the Weaver, as well as add his own two cents in. He'd briefly summarized their own encounter with the first spider queen, Webber's mama long-legs, and how Allena had insisted upon sparing it even at great risk to themselves. The Weaver had been touched by the story, and had resolved to uphold his promise.

Still, mercy was always one of the hardest paths to take, and it wasn't always a luxury that could be afforded. If you were clever about it, though…

Allena decided to voice an idea she'd been mulling over. "You're worried about them expanding beyond the confines of the forest, right?"

_Yes._

"Well," she said. "Have you considered maybe bringing back a portion of the swamp? I know terrascaping is a bit of a challenge, but in the case of the spiders, it may be worth it."

 _Swamp?_ The Weaver asked curiously. _Why swamp?_

"You can use the tentacles to keep the spiders in check," she explained. "If you have a strip of tentacled swamp between the forest and the rest of the island, the spiders will never be able to cross, not without sustaining serious damages."

 _Tentacles,_ the Weaver said doubtfully. _These are the shadow's beings. I do not care for them._

Allena's nose twitched. "Oh, trust me, I don't either. But they can be a useful tool. After all, they can't extend beyond the swamps, so there would never be a risk of them spreading too far like with the spiders, they're tough enough to take on a myriad of threats, and they're really easy to avoid if you know how. Ultimately, they're a boon for the clever and a danger for the mindless. We used them to great effect several times during our stay."

The Weaver responded with genuine interest. _Easily contained…a boon for the clever…how intriguing. Very well. I will test the usefulness of these creatures in containing the spiders. If they work so well, perhaps they can be employed as bulwarks against a number of mobile threats…_

Images of hounds, spiders, and clans of pig warriors popped into Allena's head. She was pleased that she could be of help. The Weaver sensed this. He reached up, plucked a crimson flower from his great, verdant mane, and held it out for her. _Go with peace and good fortune,_ he told them.

Allena took the flower and tucked it behind her ear as Wilson bowed and said, "Many thanks to you, Weaver. We wish you the same."

The Weaver dipped his great horned head and turned back to consider the Spiderwood gravely. They made their way over to the far side of the island.

WX-78 had chiseled a small flight of stairs down to the dock for them, since the island was still six feet above sea level, and they took these stairs down to the large wooden platform. It was expertly constructed with materials from both the Constant and Earth, and was sturdy and broad. On it was anchored their own craft, the Seaworthy.

She was a simple boat with red leather seating and a good amount of cargo space. Long rolls of tough canvas could be unrolled to provide them with a fair amount of shelter in the storms or the mist. A modern, high-quality searchlight was affixed to the front, as well as a large lantern to the rear. The wheel stood near the bow.

Although she was in part a rowboat, the oars were really only for an emergency. The thing was powered with an engine, designed by Winona and constructed by WX-78, and it was fashioned out of Thulecite and some gems. It would function for long periods of time without fuel, and when it started to wear out a single lightning bolt would completely recharge it. They had a lightning rod for that.

Presently, it was at full charge. They could take off whenever they wanted to.

Wilson started loading their stuff into the boat, and Allena started getting everything else ready. She sang quietly while she worked.

"I'd swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning…and gladly ride the waves of life…"

"…if you will marry me," Wilson finished.

She glanced over, surprised, and he chuckled. "You sing that song often while we sail. Sometimes I think you don't even notice it."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess I sing whenever I'm feeling a bit seasick. Shouldn't be a problem this time, though, with the medicine."

Wilson feigned a pout. "Oh, phooey. Does that mean I won't get to enjoy your singing this time around?"

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. "Come now, grace me with a few more lines? Please?"

She sighed…but acquiesced. She'd long since grown used to singing for Wilson. He really did love it. "No scorching sun nor freezing cold can stop me on my journey, if you will promise me your heart…"

"…and love me for eternity," Wilson finished again.

"My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me. But I've no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me…"

She went on singing, and he'd pop in every now and then and finish a line for her. They sang some of it together as they prepared for their latest adventure, and by the time the song was done they were ready to go.

Wilson hopped off the boat and began untying the rope that bound them there as Allena sat down in the back. "Ready to go, my love?" He asked as he looped the rope up and stepped over to the engine.

She didn't answer. Not right away. Instead, she just looked back towards the island.

She could sense Wilson watching her questioningly, but he didn't ask again. Instead he sat down beside her, silent and patient. He'd become very good at telling when she had something heavy on her mind.

They both sat, vaguely facing the island, for a few minutes. Some short while later they heard a loud, rumbling _BOOM,_ and the entire island shook slightly.

Both of them jumped in their seats, and Wilson said, "My, I suppose the Weaver is already getting to work on that tentacle idea. Do you think there will be a new swamp when we get back?"

"Could be," Allena said. There was more on her mind just then.

Before Wilson could ask, she said, "I talked to Wheeler last week. Asked her how she would feel about taking over for us. You know – rescuing survivors and all?"

Wilson replied, "Ahh! That's what you two were talking about. And I take it she's interested?"

"Yeah," Allena said. "Once she's a bit more Constant-savvy, I was thinking we could try sending her and WX-78 on an expedition. Or maybe just bring her along with us on the next one, to get her used to them."

Wilson seemed agreeable. "That sounds like a good idea. Though in all fairness we're probably being a bit overly-cautious with her. The woman isn't exactly a glass flower! Surviving in that jungle hamlet for so long…"

"Yeah. That place was crazy. I think she'll do just fine out here. And I'm really glad we can count on her, because…"

She trailed off. After a moment Wilson suggested, "Perhaps you're getting a bit tired of these trips?"

Allena shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's just that I want to…"

She swallowed heavily. This question had been weighing on her mind a lot recently, and she'd been waiting for a good time to ask him about it. She hadn't been able to find it until Wheeler had come along. Now, when they had an imminent out to their obligations, was probably as good a time as any.

Wilson once again tried to guess at what was on her mind. "You want to be able to really settle down again? I understand that. And I know that things got a little rough for us after a certain period of time, but this time I think we'll be able to handle things better. You mentioned counselling once, and I think that would be a good idea. After all, we shouldn't need to regularly be facing some great challenge for our marriage to work. We just need to put in a bit more effort to adjust to the quiet life!"

"What if I wanted a life that was maybe a little _less_ quiet?" Allena asked.

Wilson looked confused. "Ah. How so? Perhaps semi-regular trips to the Constant? Or swapping off with Wheeler and the others from time to time? Or—"

Allena slid over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned her head against his chest, held him close, and said, "Wilson, I want children."

Immediately, she heard his heartrate stutter…then skyrocket. "Children?"

She nodded. "Children. What do you think?"

Wilson let out a shaky breath through his nose. "Well, our life certainly would be a little less quiet. Ah. Children. Hm."

She stayed close to him. She'd been thinking about it a lot lately. _A lot_ a lot. She'd found herself making mental checklists and financial plans, picking up books and magazines about parenting, watching her diet and health a bit more. She thought she was ready. All she needed was…Wilson.

He was silent for a few minutes, and finally Allena couldn't take it anymore. She looked up at him, eyes wide, and asked, "Wilson, will you give me some children? Maybe after this expedition, or after the next one? Wheeler and WX-78 can take over the rescues. I just want to settle down and start a family. What do you think of that? Do you think we could…?"

A smile spread across his face that she hadn't seen in a while. It wasn't his normal smile. It was that slow, odd smile that he got when he'd just stumbled across a truly astounding idea in his musings. It was the smile of epiphany, the smile that marked a momentous leap forward in the way he regarded the world around him.

His blinked a few times. Then he shook his head slightly, as though clearing some water from his ears, and his smile split into a full grin. "Yes, I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Children."

He turned around and started up the engine. As it roared to life beneath them his smile widened. "Children. That will certainly keep things from getting dull. Ha!" He kicked a leg out excitedly and stretched. "Children. You once said you wanted four, yes?"

Allena was feeling deliriously happy. She'd been so worried, given how much their lives had changed since they'd first discussed it, that he would react to her question with a frown, creased eyebrows, pessimism and critical consideration. Instead, the idea seemed to delight him just as much as it did her. "Yeah, four would be nice. Hopefully two sons. August…"

"And Avriel!" Wilson exclaimed. "That's right. You said you loved the name Avriel."

The boat was still picking up speed, and the ride was fairly bumpy. Allena smacked her forehead and pulled out their life jackets, handing one to Wilson. "Yeah. What about girl names? I don't know if we ever talked about those."

"I was always partial to Silvia. What do you think?"

"Silvia? I had an old cousin named Silvia. It's never sounded like a young person's name to me, but it really does have a graceful ring to it. Silvia. What about Lily?"

"Lily! Not a bad one, though my mother could never stand people who named their children after flowers. We had the prissiest, most stuck up neighbors in the world growing up, and they had five daughters named Lily, Magnolia, Rose, Tulip, and Petunia. Mother despised all of them, and forbade us from ever even talking to them."

"Did you?"

"I didn't, though my brother briefly dated the middle sister, Rose. Only time my mother was upset about his romantic pursuits."

"How'd that end up?"

"Rose, it turned out, was a cheating trollop, so not well."

Allena laughed. "Alright then. What about Anastasia?"

Wilson's face lit up. "Anastasia! I love it. That's definitely one for consideration. Hope?"

"I love Hope. Let's add it to the list. Just one thing."

"Hmm? What's that?"

Allena looked back at the land they were leaving behind and said, "No names beginning with 'W'."

Wilson threw his head back and laughed. "In that, my love, we are in perfect agreement."

The boat had picked up speed and was now cutting smoothly and merrily through the waves. The horizon was hazy, and soon they would come upon the wall of mist that would take them on to their next adventure. It would surely be one of the last. The mist was cool, dark, and mysterious in the extreme, but eventually they would end up in a brighter, sunnier place. And in the meantime, the world was crisp and clear about them, the wind rushed cleanly through their hair, and the speed of their travel threw fine sheets of mist into the air behind them. The sun, still somewhat low in the mid fall morning, hit it at just the right angle and turned it to flaring gold.

Then the mist was upon them, and Wilson sighed and went up to the front of the boat to steer. Allena followed, braced herself against the cold of the fog bank, and put a hand on the small of his back to help brace him as well. He smiled down at her, and she up at him.

They went together into the mist.

* * *

_You'll remember me when the west wind moves_   
_Upon the fields of barley_   
_You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky_   
_As we walk in fields of gold_

_So she took her love for to gaze awhile_   
_Upon the fields of barley_   
_In his arms she fell as her hair came down,_   
_Among the fields of gold_

_Will you stay with me, will you be my love?_   
_Among the fields of barley_   
_We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky_   
_As we walk in fields of gold_

_See the west wind move like a lover so,_   
_Upon the fields of barley_   
_Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth_   
_Among the fields of gold_

_I've never made promises lightly_   
_And there have been some that I've broken_   
_But I swear in the days still left_   
_We'll walk in fields of gold_

_Many years have passed since those summer days_   
_Among the fields of barley_   
_See the children run as the sun goes down_   
_Among the fields of gold_

_You'll remember me when the west wind moves_   
_Upon the fields of barley_   
_You can tell the sun in his jealous sky_

_When we walked in fields of gold_

_When we walked in fields of gold_

_When we walked in fields of gold_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That's it. All done.
> 
> Dearest readers, I really, truly hope you enjoyed the story. I hope the ending was to your satisfaction, and I hope that everything was wrapped up that needed to be wrapped up. I'm thrilled to have gotten it all done without any large breaks or gaps. There were a few times when I wanted to move on to something else, but I'm glad I didn't. It's really something to be moving on from such a big project, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. I'm looking forward to future projects.
> 
> Thank you for all your feedback. It's made this story a thrill to write. If it's not too much trouble, please, leave one last review. Let me know if you were satisfied. The one great regret of my last story was that I received no feedback on it at its conclusion, and my top reviewer, Jay Foren, de-favorited and un-followed both me and my story, so I can only assume he didn't care for it. I sincerely hope that isn't the case here. So even if it's only a quick, "Not bad!" please let me know. And criticism is also entirely welcome - if you noticed anything glaring or even a bit off kilter, in this chapter, any old one, or in the story overall, I'd be thrilled to get some tips. After all, my goal is to improve my writing.
> 
> If you have any questions or concerns, please let me know. If there's anything I failed to address, I'll be happy to cover it one way or another. And, one more time -
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your support and interest. It has made each and every minute spent typing worth it. 100%.  
> Until next time, dear readers.
> 
> Sincerely,  
> The Topaz Dragon


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